Posts Tagged ‘Nels Cline’

Wilco - Star Wars

On July 16th, Wilco shocked their fans in the best way possible: by releasing Star Wars, the band’s first album in four years, for free on their website, with no advance warning. The album is Wilco’s best in at least a decade, full of loose, poppy rockers like “Random Name Generator” and “The Joke Explained.”  After recording the basic tracks himself in the Wilco loft in Chicago, frontman Jeff Tweedy brought in the other members of the band separately to play on them. The process has proved so productive that Tweedy says he’s already halfway finished with the next Wilco album. “I have a whole lot of material,” he says.

It’s kind of an extension of the thought process behind, I don’t know, staying in touch with some sort of wild energy as much as possible and some sort of an irreverence. But that painting of that cat hangs in the kitchen at the [Wilco] loft, and every day I’d look at it and go, “You know, that should just be the album cover.” Then I started thinking about the phrase “Star Wars” recontextualized against that painting — it was beautiful and jarring. The album has nothing to do with Star Wars. It just makes me feel good. It makes me feel limitless and like there’s still possibilities and still surprise in the world, you know?

“What’s more fun than a surprise?” Jeff Tweedy asked cheekily on instagram as he introduced us to Wilco‘s ninth studio album. In a year when fans of another Star Wars were being incessantly teased, this album dropped out of nowhere, no endless teaser trailers required. Instead it was free to download,

The album’s got a great sound—jagged guitar (courtesy Nels Cline), distorted vocals—but a critical shortage of great songs. “You Satellite” rules and “Random Name Generator” is formidable enough to make Jeff Tweedy feel like a shapeshifter rock star, but much of the album feels unfinished, like sketches for something that might’ve been great, a perception that’s fairly amplified by the album’s brief length and lazy title. The best thing you can say about Star Wars is that it injected some spontaneity, some aggression back into Wilco’s music. The album thrilled fans when it was surprise-released for free in 2015, following the longest gap between Wilco albums to date. But it’s already been eclipsed by the superior Schmilco. Wilco’s weakest effort isn’t bad at all, justwell, underwhelming

Kitsch kitty cover art and silly title aside, the fuzzed up, lean rock on Wilco’s most concise album in years took plenty of unexpected turns. Tweedy worked largely alone, the band adding the gloss and grit to finished arrangements and basic tracks. The result is at times wild and weird but always Wilco.

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Few bands have managed to stake out a career as creatively compelling, long-running, and vital as Wilco. Where in their catalog do you start? . For 23 years, Chicago’s Wilco have explored the intricacies and contradictions of American rock’n’roll . Wilco has released ten studio albums, a live double album, and four collaborations: three with Billy Bragg and one with The Minus 5. with a once-in-a-generation songwriter, and a killer live show. It’s not too late to hear what you’ve been missing out on.

While you might have trouble naming some songs, you’ve probably heard of Wilco. It might be because your best friend put them on a mix CD or your guitarist friend can’t stop raving about Nels Cline or maybe you saw some smug comment on Twitter refer to them as “dad-rock” and you wrote them off. If you dismissed them for any one of those reasons or just haven’t gotten to it yet, you’ve been missing out, because few bands have managed to stake out a career as creatively compelling, long-running, and vital as the band Wilco.

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Now in their 23rd year, the Chicago mainstays have amassed ten albums that constantly tweaked and sometimes reinvented their distinctly Midwestern brand of rock’n’roll. Sometimes they took from roots and Americana (1994’s A.M. and 1996’s Being There), other times they drew inspiration from Jim O’Rourke and Chicago’s vast late ’90s-early aughts experimental scene (2002’s Yankee Hotel Foxtrot and 2004’s A Ghost Is Born) while elsewhere, they found a solid palate in golden ’70s rock (2007’s Sky Blue Sky). Despite all the dabbling in other sounds, whims, and moods, Wilco have always been consistently themselves thanks to bandleader and frontman Jeff Tweedy’s affecting, humane, and sometimes cryptic songwriting.

Because there’s decades of material packed into ten proper studio albums, not to mention a wealth of live material (2005’s Kicking Television is one of the better live albums since the start of the millennium), a handful of full-length collaborations with UK folk troubadour Billy Bragg, and a treasure’s trove of B-sides, outtakes, and unreleased material in 2014’s box set Alpha Mike Foxtrot: Rare Tracks 1994-2014, it’s a probably intimidating to ask to dive right into Wilco’s catalog without any help. So in honor of Jeff Tweedy’s first solo album Together At Last, a cheekily-titled collection of re-recorded acoustic Wilco cuts as well as selections from his other projects Golden Smog and Loose Fur that’s out now via Anti- Records. 

One thing’s for certain and it’s that most fans will probably have a different answer on which Wilco album to start with: some will argue to just go from the beginning with A.M. and Being There, others will recommend Sam Jones’ revealing 2002 film I Am Trying To Break Your Heart which documents the laborious and obstacle-filled making of breakthrough 2002 album Yankee Hotel Foxtrot, while certain people will just tell you to listen to the guitar solos on “Impossible Germany.” Wilco’s a very accessible band so all these answers would get you on the right track (on albums alone, I’d say start with Summerteeth or Yankee Hotel Foxtrot).

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But, breaking their discography into distinct sides of the band shows how multi-faceted Wilco have been over almost a quarter of a century. Because they’re a group that still plays their entire discography live (no, seriously, they play near every song at their yearly Chicago “Winterlude” residencies), this obviously isn’t a complete list your favorite song might not be on here. Also, even if you’re not going to figure out what Tweedy meant when he sang “take off your Band-Aid ’cause I don’t believe in touchdowns” on “I Am Trying To Break Your Heart,” you’ll hopefully consider yourself an “American aquarium drinker” by the end of it.

The earliest Wilco albums— A.M.,Being There and Summerteeth—contain songs that still rank among their most energetic and undeniably infectious.

Wilco formed in 1994 out of the breakup of Uncle Tupelo, the still-influential but long-defunct Belleville, Illinois alt-country band Tweedy started with songwriter Jay Farrar (who went on to front Son Volt) and drummer Mike Heidorn. Other Tupelo members like bassist John Stirratt, latter-day drummer Ken Coomer, and guitarist Max Johnston joined Wilco while Heidorn reunited with Farrar for Son Volt’s first album Trace. Wilco’s A.M. rollicked with a countryfied stomp, songs like “I Must Be High,” “Casino Queen,” and “Box Full of Letters” standing out. But it wasn’t until Wilco’s sophomore double album Being There that the twangy rockers they were churning out really began to pop: “Monday,” “I Got You (At The End of the Century,” and “Outtasite (Outta Mind)” are still fierce and fantastic.

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While Wilco would trade much of gritty, rough-hewn twang for synths and Beatles-indebted pop exuberance on their third album Summerteeth, the energy from their earlier oeuvre never left. Where the bubblegum melodies of “I’m Always In Love” and “Candyfloss” anchored Summerteeth, Tweedy’s ear for a good hook kept going: few things are catchier than “Kamera” off Yankee Hotel Foxtrot or the underrated “The Late Greats” off A Ghost Is Born. We could keep going on and on to Star Wars and Schmilco too.

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Wilco can do the overdriven as well as any American rock band, often times the highest points of the band’s catalog are found in the quieter moments. “Misunderstood,” the first song off Being There, is probably one of the best encapsulations of the inclusive and relatable nature of Wilco’s songs. Tweedy’s opening lines, “When you’re back in your old neighborhood/The cigarettes taste so good/But you’re so misunderstood” couldn’t be a better outcast calling card. Elsewhere, on another Being There highlight like the cathartic “Sunken Treasure” he earnestly sings, “Music is my savior, and I was maimed by rock and roll” and it undeniably works.

Throughout Wilco’s albums, the softer songs have always been the emotional centerpieces from “Via Chicago” or “How To Fight Loneliness” on Summerteeth and “Ashes of American Flags” on Yankee Hotel Foxtrotto just name a couple. Live, no Wilco set would feel complete to certain fans without the the Billy Bragg collaboration “California Stars” to close the set or the inclusion of one of the two most subtle stunners on A Ghost Is Born: “Company In My Back” or “Muzzle of Bees.”

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The tumultuous recording process surrounding Yankee Hotel Foxtrot has long been Wilco mythology: the label drama, the conflict between then-member Jay Bennett and Jeff Tweedy, how the band pioneered streaming culture by putting the album on their website months-in-advance, etc. But perhaps the most important factor into the album was largely not focused on in Sam Jones’ excellent documentary I Am Trying To Break Your Heart and that’s Chicago experimental mainstay and Loose Fur cofounder Jim O’Rourke, who ended up mixing and changing the whole direction of the project. Thanks to O’Rourke as well as Wilco’s new drummer Glenn Kotche (also a member of Loose Fur and an local experimental music veteran), the songs became deconstructed, a little weirder, and a little wonkier. O’Rourke would go on to co-produce Wilco’s next album “A Ghost Is Born,” which darkly expands and deconstructs even more the studio experiments and successes from Foxtrot. It’s the most brooding Wilco album and a lot of Wilco fans will say it’s their best.

While that album’s “Spiders (Kidsmoke)” is undoubtedly one of the most ambitious songs Wilco have drawn up, with its 10 plus-minutes of a cathartic, Krautrock-freakout, the band continued to keep that adventurous spirit alive in their later albums. “Bull Black Nova” off Wilco (The Album) accomplishes this with smoldering guitars but perhaps the best encapsulation comes from “Art of Almost,” the bonkers opener from 2011’s The Whole Love. Jeff Tweedy explained that song last year, “‘Art of Almost’ is this strange combination of all the different members putting their mark on something and having it still somehow hold up and be a thing. Live, it just gets kind of more and more intense.”

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On the 2007 press cycle for Sky Blue Sky, Wilco’s sixth album, Jeff Tweedy talked with the Wall Street Journal about his favorite albums from the ’70s citing Wings, Bob Dylan, Nick Drake, and the Clash. In previous interviews, he’s also mentioned his love for Television’s Marquee Moon, T. Rex’s Beard of Stars, and Talking Heads’ Fear of Music. You can find traces of each throughout Wilco’s discography but it was on Sky Blue Sky, the first studio album with the current Wilco lineup (adding guitarist Nels Cline and multi-instrumentalist Pat Sansone), that was their sunniest, most ’70s-inspired effort yet. While not as frenetic as the twang rockers from their early catalog, these tracks like “Handshake Drugs” and “Impossible Germany” are just as compelling even though they unfold in a much more relaxed way. These kind of Wilco songs with warm guitars and lush arrangements are found throughout their 10 albums, with songs like “The Whole Love,” “Hummingbird,” and “Dawned On Me” rounding it out.

Wilco’s latest offerings, 2015’s Star Wars and 2016’s Schmilco, not just in their goofball titles alone were as close a sonic equivalent to Jeff Tweedy’s stage banter as you can get: irreverent and to-the-point. They dropped Stars Wars without warning releasing it for free on their website and its album cover was a painting of a cat that hangs in the kitchen of the band’s Northwest Chicago studio The Loft. 

Compared to the rest of Wilco’s discography, these two albums are slightly off-kilter (a curveball blast of dissonant noise called “EKG” kicks off Star Wars), but there’s an energy that channels the reckless nature of their beginnings. Star Wars highlight “Random Name Generator” exudes some T. Rex-indebted swagger while the wonky “Common Sense” boasts perhaps the most subtly challenging arrangement of Wilco’s catalog, showing a band still able to change it up. But most importantly, the current iteration of the band has been locked in for a over a decade. There’s an effortlessness and fun to these new songs that were hinted at during some of the band’s highlights like Foxtrot cut “Heavy Metal Drummer” and the suburban sad-sack rocker “Hate It Here” off Sky Blue Sky.While the band’s come a long way from the cigarette-tinged twang that coloured A.M., the Wilco of 2017 shows no signs of letting things get stale.

 

For over 20 years, Chicago Americana troupe Wilco has been a band of depth and intricacy. Singer-songwriter Jeff Tweedy has served up his personal insights on the mic as a revolving backing band of ace multi-instrumentalists dressed them in the Alt-country repose of A.M. and Being There, the ‘70s pop sheen of Summerteeth, and the minor symphonies of Yankee Hotel Foxtrot. By 2007’s Sky Blue Sky, the band settled on what would be its first stable lineup: Jeff Tweedy and his former Uncle Tupelo bassist buddy John Stirratt, experimental drummer and percussionist Glenn Kotche, guitar god Nels Cline, knob twiddler Mikael Jorgensen, and alt-country session hand Pat Sansone. The lineup honored Wilco’s commitment both to country and to pushing the envelope of this genre, but 2009’s Wilco (The Album) and 2011’s The Whole Love, the pair of full lengths that followed Sky Blue Sky, maybe fizzed when they ought to have popped.

Last summer’s surprise free release Star Wars was an attempt to redirect the band’s energy. At just over 33 minutes long, it’s the shortest Wilco studio album.

The songs were two- and three-minute pop-rock confections that pulled off the difficult feat of sounding both thoughtfully arranged and off the cuff. This month’s Schmilco seeks to extend the streak, revisiting the wiry energy of Star Wars over a dozen quiet acoustic tunes. Most of the new album’s songs were conceived around the same time as Star Wars, but Tweedy made the peculiar decision to split the fertile sessions in two: “The alternative to making two records would have been to spend another year really honing everything, all of it, getting it all right for that kind of release.”

The irony of the Star Wars/Schmilco project is that the decision not to whittle everything down to a single body of work is its saving grace.

If the major strength of Star Wars was getting Wilco, a band whose finest albums are also their busiest, to strip down, Schmilco’s is figuring out how to stash six players into the quiet of a backyard jam. “Normal American Kids,” introduced at a live show earlier this year as a solo Jeff Tweedy cut, gets a studio version that sneaks sweet, meandering electric guitar from Nels into the background. A few songs later “Nope” crams stuttering bits of riffs into the margins, the lead guitar coughing and spitting over the tune like Blur ax-man Graham Coxon did on “Coffee & TV.” “Nope” slowly unravels as it trips along, its personnel expanding to no less than three guitarists and two drummers. (Tweedy’s son Spencer lends Kotche a hand on Schmilco’s drums.) Between these extremes is a tapestry of shaggy guitar shuffles like the laconic “Happiness,” the demented, atonal “Common Sense,” and the muted punk blast of “Locator.”

Schmilco’s subtle intricacies provide cover for a series of vignettes of dreamers in various degrees of resignation. From the song titles — “Nope,” “Cry All Day,” “Someone to Lose,” “Shrug and Destroy” — down to the lyrics, Schmilco bleeds sadness. The deceptively titled “Happiness” opens on a devastating observation: “My mother always says I’m great, and it always makes me sad / I don’t think she’s being nice, I really think she believes that.” Album closer “We Aren’t the World (Safety Girl)” devilishly subverts the chorus of the star-studded ‘80s charity single “We Are the World” into a dart about settling: “We aren’t the world / We aren’t the children / But you’re my safety girl.” As a lyricist, Tweedy loves his abstractions. (“I am an American aquarium drinker / I assassin down the avenue”?) So Schmilco’s snap focus on dejected character studies, like the hopeless barfly of “Quarters,” who sweeps the place for quarters to play music on the jukebox, is jarring, but like the elegant arrangements that swirl and sputter underfoot, it feels like the work of a tightly wound unit taking chances. Wilco’s willingness to embrace risk and change at a point in its career where peers often retreat into comfort and self-parody suggests there could be another couple of decades of life left in this 22-year-old enterprise.

Despite playing the game for over two decades, the 49-year-old singer-songwriter has hardly ever sounded so intimate as he does on Schmilco, grappling with the never-ending angst of knowing that you never really can escape yourself. On album standout “If I Ever Was a Child”, he vividly paints this feeling, singing: “I slump behind my brain/ A haunted stain never fades/ I hunt for the kind of pain I can take.” The Chicago rockers add some color to each of the album’s 12 tracks by stripping things down to its core essentials.