In 2006, the UK singer-songwriter Steve Adey slowed the song to an absolute crawl, and he sounds like a lone congregant singing in an empty church. Perhaps for that very reason, “I See A Darkness” can take on different weight and shape in different hands. And I think I thought the latter - an essentially evil person who tries to do good in the world.” As Oldham told Pitchfork in 2001, “T here was a girl once in high school that said there were two ways of painting yourself, or seeing yourself: one was as an essentially good person who tries to do evil in the world, or as an essentially evil person who tries to do good in the world. The song hints further that it may be a moral darkness, the “opposition” to the great love he feels: a dire rage, a darkness in the brain that will erupt in violence. Obviously there is the idea of death itself, the obvious and inevitable darkness, a reminder that Oldham and his companion must “stop our whoring and pull the smiles inside.” There is also the chance that it may be less personal than public: a darkness shared among Americans, some flaw in the national character that reveals itself in lynchings or mass shootings or simply in the indifference we show to one another everyday. Perhaps even more mysterious is the very idea of darkness, which seems to shift constantly during the song. It was a stab at identifying specifically one audience member and singing to him, rather than the usual open concept of audience.” I can remember where I was sitting as the song came out. Oldham himself provided a vague hint during an interview with the music blog of the Royal College of Psychiatrists: “Recently I found the three or four little yellow post-it notes onto which the lyrics for ‘I See A Darkness’ were originally written. They could be a pair of touring musicians, even a musician and his listener. Who exactly are these people? Who is speaking, and to whom is he speaking? The song is a one-act play, waiting to be restaged with cowboys along a wagon trail, or Confederate soldiers deserting their ranks, or itinerant workers splitting rails. The popularity and longevity of “I See A Darkness” may lie in its ambiguity. Then the song ends, somewhat abruptly and unceremoniously. A nagging something, all the more frightening for being unnamable, and the most specific he can get is to confess, “I see a darkness.” The delicate beauty of that melody, however, belies the bleakness of the thought, turning the song into a hymn to his last tatter of hope. He addresses a silent, unseen companion - “my best unbeaten brother.” He toasts the good times they’ve shared - the drinking and whoring, the carousing - with minimal regret, and he declares a deep “love for everyone I know.” And yet, doubts persists. The verses are quiet and slow, less sung than spoken in a halting clip, as though Oldham’s narrator is steeling himself to get these words out of his mouth.
On its surface, the song is as unadorned as Shaker furniture.
Oldham withholds as much as he discloses, and in doing so has crafted a song that somehow accrues more mystery with each listen. With its simple structure - just two verses and two choruses - and its sackcloth ambience, it’s a deeply haunting tune, not easy to figure out and impossible to shake off. It’s certainly his most popular tune, arguably his best, and one that is covered by a range of artists on a fairly regular basis even fifteen years after its release. “I See A Darkness,” the title track off Will Oldham’s first album under his Bonnie ‘Prince’ Billy alias, has become a weird sort of American standard.