Down With Wilco
Wilco’s latest album, Sky Blue Sky (out May 15), so far appears to be polarizing fans and critics alike, who either love or loathe the group’s meandering, rootsy direction. In the spirit of dialogue, here are two takes on Sky from two longtime fans — one enthusiastic and one, well, not so much.
“What Light” by Wilco, from Sky Blue Sky (Nonesuch)
YEA: If Wilco put together a greatest-hits album, it would probably only contain two or three songs from Sky Blue Sky — and that’s mostly a testament to the band’s already-impressive body of work. Whereas 2004’s A Ghost Is Born was a tad unfocused and jam-heavy, Sky is far more song-oriented and less Krautrock-influenced than it is informed by legendary folk acts such as the Band.
However, despite the album’s laid-back feel, it’s still unquestionably a Wilco record. “Impossible Germany” is reminiscent of “Jesus, Etc.” from 2002’s Yankee Hotel Foxtrot, save for a jaw-dropping jazz-fusion guitar solo courtesy of recent addition Nels Cline. “What Light” is a Dylan-influenced, acoustic-driven number that recalls Wilco’s early material. And the stripped-down “Please Be Patient With Me” displays a side of frontman Jeff Tweedy so vulnerable that the song will break your heart as fast as it’ll embed itself in your brain.
Lyrically, Sky Blue Sky is far less cryptic than the band’s latest. And though there are no ghosts being born, songs such as “Hate It Here” manage to put a familiar theme (getting over a breakup) in a fresh context. And that very thing is what made most of us love Wilco in the first place. — Jonah Bayer
NAY: Yankee Hotel Foxtrot opens with a couplet of swaggering beauty: I am an American aquarium drinker/I assassin down the avenue. The beginning of Foxtrot‘s follow-up, A Ghost Is Born, isn’t quite so evocative, but it grounds that album’s emotional and psychological torment in specific detail: When I sat down on the bed next to you/You started to cry.
But Wilco’s new disc opens this way: Maybe the sun will shine today/The clouds will blow away/Maybe I won’t feel so afraid.
On Sky Blue Sky, Jeff Tweedy trades poetry for banality, introspection for navel-gazing. The sighing narrators of these songs yearn for someone or something, yet never with any urgency. Even when they get what they’re after, they aren’t thrilled or happy so much as content.
Meanwhile, the band ambles along behind Tweedy, giving a competent performance — the worst insult imaginable for these guys. Nels Cline unleashes a few wicked solos, but these don’t feel organic to the songs; instead, it just seems like Tweedy pointed to him at that moment.
Fans turned off by the studio experimentation and occasional self-indulgence of Yankee Hotel Foxtrot and A Ghost Is Born may welcome the less obtuse lyrics and pleasant melodies. And after hashing out his personal issues on those two albums, it’s understandable why Tweedy may want to step back from the precipice. Sometimes, when you’re back in your old neighborhood, the cigarettes really do taste so good. Sometimes, though, they just taste like nasty-ass cancer sticks.
