Wilco

Wilco (the Album)

[Nonesuch; 2009]

Links: Wilco | Nonesuch | Purchase on Insound

Posted by Elias Isquith on 30 June 2009

In some ways, Jeff Tweedy’s had a rough career. Beyond the normal anxieties and pressures of a struggling musician, Tweedy’s had to endure a remarkable degree of instability – he not only survived the implosion of his first band, the almost-legendary alt.country group Uncle Tupelo, but has similarly continued to put out top-shelf work despite his current band Wilco’s seemingly countless personnel changes. (To be fair, from all available evidence, it appears that Wilco’s many alterations have been Jeff’s doing.) On top of this, add Tweedy’sown well-publicized struggles with depression and addiction. But, following the group’s A Ghost Is Born and a successful stint in rehab, Tweedy added virtuoso jazz guitarist Nels Cline to Wilco and embarked upon what is in hindsight clearly the band’s second act. When Wilco pt. II began touring in 2005, Jeff Tweedy was one of only two* remaining original member, but nevertheless, the band had a comfortable, natural on-stage presence, and played so fluidly and creatively, it was as if they had been playing together for years. That lineup remains intact today, making it the longest-running – and finest – version of Wilco yet.

By Wilco (the Album), their seventh and newest release, the band has reached a point where they no longer have anything to prove. Wilco (the Album) is, if nothing else, a confident record, The group has taken a break from exploring radical new sonic pallettes or deconstructionist arrangements – instead, Tweedy et al choose to let their songwriting and playing speak for itself. It does so from the start – in the third person, even. Opening track “Wilco (the song)” is about as tongue-in-cheek as its title implies, but tucked between its winks and smirks, the track’s chugging “Werewolf of London” guitar, and the Summerteeth-referencing church bells is a sentimental heart. “Is someone twisting a knife down your back?/ Are you being attacked?,” Tweedy sings on the chorus, and although his refrain is comforting – “Wilco will love you, baby” – the song’s precarious balance between paranoia and contentment remains throughout the record. Even on the ostensibly feel-good first single, the George Harrison-aping “You Never Know,” darkness creeps in as Tweedy sings “There’s a lone, heavy Hell/ I don’t care anymore” for the chorus. There’s a melancholia that seeps through the otherwise breezy “You and I,” a Beatles-like duet with Feist, while the gorgeous ballad, “Country Disappeared” merely almost masks its (seemingly) post-apocalyptic sorrow with a melody that harkens back to the golden era of AM radio.

But fittingly, the record’s most emotionally unsettled song, “Bull Black Nova,” is also its most aesthetically challenging. Riding a twitchy, nervous beat – one not unlike the band’s previous “Spiders (Kidsmoke)” – Tweedy and Cline trade frantic spasms of guitar while the rest of the band continues to roll steadily, anxiously forward. Atop this aural unease, Tweedy delivers one of the finest vocal and lyrical performances of his career, detailing the thought processes of a man who has just murdered his lover. “If I’m the one/ Blood on the sofa,” Tweedy sings through cleched teeth, “Blood in the sink/ Blood in the trunk.” As he mournfully sighs, “This can’t be undone/ This can’t be outrun,” each time more desperately than before, the song slowly builds in intensity, eventually reaching a fever pitch of whirring guitars, anguished feedback and incessantly plinking piano. The song ends with Tweedy screaming (for the first time in a while on record), “Pick up!/ Pick up!” The song is a masterpiece of mood – like a classic Edgar Allen Poe story, it causes the listener to inhabit a horrible and frighteningly plausible reality. It’s a gem – one of the band’s best yet.

Elsewhere on the record, whether on the Television-like guitar ballad “One Wing” or the subtle, shapeshifting “Deeper Down,” the group’s level of craftsmanship – its songwriting, performing, and producing – is comparably high. And while it would be inaccurate to say that the dark “Bull Black Nova” is the clear standout here – much less the record’s definitive track – it would be equally wrongheaded to assume from the record’s superficial aura of ease that Jeff Tweedy and Wilco have, now comfortable and contented, run out of things to say. With Wilco (the Album) and 2007′s Sky Blue Sky, many Wilco fans are no doubt enjoying this period of tranquility – but pay attention to the chorus of the delightful Big Star country-rock of “Sonny Feeling” – “The sunny feeling is taken away.”

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