On first listen, I hated this record. I hated Will Oldham. I hated his pomposity, his faux mystery-man pose, his pretentious lyrics and his boring music. On the second listen, I discovered the kernels of some very good songs — but I still hated his reedy, whiny voice. I wished someone else was singing his songs. On the third listen, I didn’t mind his voice so much. My hate, I realized, was receding. By the fourth listen, Joya had somehow evolved into a compelling record.
Joya is Oldham’s first record under his own name, after several outings billed as various bastardizations of the band name Palace. Here, he incorporates slightly invigorated rhythms, snaky guitar lines and even a sly, funky keyboard into what could at times be mistaken for a Velvet Underground demo.
The exquisite moments Oldham provides are small ones. “Antagonism” is what would happen if Pavement played mournful indie country. “Gator” delivers a muted big cymbal worth the price of the song. “Open Your Heart” is done up as a 1950s ballad.
The big songs on this record are “Be Still And Know God (Don’t Be Shy)” and the closer, “Idea and Deed”. The former is VU spiced with keyboard funk and a chorus that, by the end of the song, becomes surprisingly catchy. “Idea and Deed” is an instant Oldham classic that can properly be described as Dylanesque.
The record has a few snoozers, a few songs on which the vocals are out of Oldham’s reach, and, like any Oldham project, more than a few moments when it sounds like a mere collection of half-finished songs abandoned to the listener. But with each spin of this record, I realized just how delicious that can be.
