The Brave and the Bold

“The Brave and the Bold” is, first and foremost, utterly confusing. As a collection of covers ranging from Devo to Don Williams, chosen for the first collaboration between shambler Bonnie ‘Prince’ Billy (Will Oldham) and math geeks Tortoise, both weird in their own ways, how could it not be? Still, as I listened through again and again, trying to put my finger on what exactly goes wrong, I found myself enjoying it more and more: confusing and confused as it is, there is something here, perhaps accidental, that manages to make it work.

At first listen, the styles of the two groups struggle for supremacy and find little middle ground. ‘Cravo É Canela,’ a Milton Nascimento tune sung, bravely, in Portuguese by Oldham, finds him squarely on Tortoise’s turf, sounding nothing like the quiet musings or heart-rent ramblings one finds on “Ease Down the Road.” The very next song, a dirge-like take on Springsteen’s anthemic ‘Thunder Road,’ is sung with a more familiar half-smiling sorrow, but something still seems amiss. With the image of Springsteen in mind, fist pumping and voice rising, the song carries a unique ironic appeal, but on its own it seems constrained and impotent, as if forced on the musicians by someone else.

The album has its moments, however, and they tend to be those that are, ironically, a little less brave and bold. ‘Daniel,’ perhaps the best of them, is a dreamy cooperation between the two sounds, neither band pushing too far beyond its limits, Tortoise swelling up and down while Oldham’s falsetto peaks out through layers of effects. ‘Daniel,’ ‘Pancho,’ and ‘The Calvary Cross’ all allow Oldham’s fragile charm to shine through, offset well by softer instrumentation from Tortoise, avoiding the dissonance and conflict between the two styles that occurs on tracks like ‘It’s Expected I’m Gone.’

Staunch Oldham fans, used to the threadbare Appalachian melodies of Palace Music, might not find all they are looking for here: “The Brave and the Bold,” with all its distortion and metallic twittering, is a far cry from the bony beauty of any other Oldham work. The most striking loss is Oldham songwriting itself: there is something about the lyrics he pens under each of his many musical monikers that sets him apart. Here, faithfully sounding out the words of other writers, listeners miss out on the subtle Oldham ironies and bizarre turns of phrase that make him loveable. The Tortoise faithful receive a more familiar sound, missing out instead on the studio experimentation that brings computerized complexity to their deft instrumentation.

It would be hard to satisfy traditional fans (if any exist) of either of these bands, as they hail from opposite sides of the indie-musical spectrum. Oldham, who often relies on bare, folk-like musical backing for his back-country confessions, is here nudged towards the technologically deviant complexity of Tortoise, who are in turn obliged to accommodate Oldham’s tendency for a quieter style of shoe-gazing. Still, both groups are accomplished and thoughtful, and when both make concessions, they lend some old tunes some new bipolar beauty.

—Staff writer Henry M. Cowles can be reached at hmcowles@fas.harvard.edu.