How's this for an opening line: "I once loved a girl, but she couldn't take that I visited troublesome houses." Few hearts could. So begins The Wonder Show of the World, the Kentucky sage's first tandem outing with guitarist/Cairo Gang chief Emmett Kelly. Historically, the former has always displayed wolverine instincts when it comes to selecting creative partners, and this is no exception. In addition to beautiful contributions on both The Letting Go and Lie Down in the Light, Kelly's furnished a sturdy CV exploring folk music's boundaries on his own. As a pair, Kelly and Oldham are a very natural fit. Amongst the shadows and amber, ambient hook of "Troublesome Houses", his voice and Oldham's fold into one another like lovers. The rest of their trip is as inviting as that first step.
The Wonder Show of the World is a perfectly titled look at the ways in which we all tangle ourselves up with one another-- as friends, fathers, mothers, daughters, wives, husbands, and on and on. All of Oldham's takes on love and companionship here are worth the price of admission, but what makes the album really stick is the way each tale is mirrored by its sonics. Spontaneity still being Oldham's jam, this is a clear move away from the country-based records of recent years, and this record's much more about space and on-tape interaction than it is any strain of American sound. Whether the arrangement is full-bodied or spare, upended folk or gospel, you can really sense that these two are reacting to one another as though the song's coming to them for the very first time. Kelly's guitar work here spans a long list of genres, gathering ingredients from blues, jazz, country, and Spanish guitar. And no matter the flavor, Kelly does well to buttress Oldham's zigs and zags, never overwhelming any of his verses. He just lets him do his thing and vice versa.
This is arguably Oldham's most austere record to date, but there's much to dig into. From the aforementioned opener onward, the first half is quiet fire. In "Teach Me to Bear You", Oldham gets down on his knees and begs for honest answers from a woman, combining with Kelly for some gorgeous church vocals before the latter tears open a blues solo that'd make John Mayer sweat. Much less direct, "With Cornstalks or Among Them" is a rapturous, reverb-y showcase for Oldham's singing voice, which has only continued to evolve along with his eye for erotic detail. On "The Sounds Are Always Begging", Oldham awakes to his wife chopping up their bed, his dick too hard for him to be scared. That line's inclusion feels like a total put-on, but the album's most memorable doesn't at all: During the "That's What Our Love Is", a seven-minute centerpiece, Oldham wails to his lover that the smell of her "box" is still on his mustache. It's as intimate and daring a note as any songwriter could make, the kind of observation that leaves you slackjawed. But not just because it throws your balance or because he isn't Lil Wayne, but because few songwriters feel so comfortable going there. In full, this outing feels as close to that sentiment as any. Not just comfortable-- honest.
