Each Friday I pick a song–new, old, borrowed, blue–that’s been on my mind and in my ears, and write a short post about it.

This is “Raining in Darling” by Bonnie “Prince” Billy:

Sometimes a song only needs to very simple things to create an unsimple effect. Softly-strummed electric guitar,  bass notes (guitar? or bass?) playing only once a measure or so, a piano that joins on the second verse, which isn’t separated from the first verse by a chorus; bridge, crescendo to chorus, one extra line. Finish.

This is the type of song I usually think of as “hit it and quit it,” though usually I associate the technique with punk, and although I could make a case for Will Oldham as a punk musician, I won’t.

“Raining in Darling” doesn’t do anything for any longer than it needs to be done, or for any more times than it needs to be done. Nothing is repeated. The lyrics are delicate yet assured. The whole song explodes in that beautiful melody of a chorus, and oh, the longing, the longing it leaves you by only expressing itself once, and extending just that little bit beyond when the singer sings, “I know you do.” My breath leaves my lungs, but I forget to inhale.