Wilco

In search of the band that incorporates everything I am not alone in fastening on Wilco. Over the years after they started out as a straight ahead country-ish rock group and through a phase of experimentation to the present day they have travelled an arc which has been at times infuriating but never dull. Today, they seem to have reached a creative peak that will leave them still largely unknown by the vast majority of music customers, decried by some who see them as selling out their Americana roots but embraced by those, like me, who enjoy bands that never rest on their laurels and who offer that rare combination of the cerebral and the visceral. My Morning Jacket are another such outfit  and while many more aspire to this level of accomplishment, without the creative vision of an enigmatic band leader there will always be a gap that separates them from this small 


I was at two of their recent UK shows  – Manchester and London. On the back of their album ‘The Whole Love’ they are showcasing a clutch of new songs which extend their open-minded template even further (one track is even called ‘Open Mind’) but which are still rooted in the classic pop sensibilities that make their live concerts such air-punching events. For those that prefer the reflective to the celebratory, both these shows were pivoted around daring moments of introspection  - the signs of a group with confidence in themselves and their audience and in the powerful live connection which they have established.

So, claiming a band to have ‘everything’ is a wild overstatement of course. It’s a pointless task trying to convert anyone to anything but if ever a body of work can stand up to that claim it is that of Wilco. Their sound derives from no single souce but from an amalgam of influences that include the Velvet Underground, Neil Young and Radiohead. The leader and songwriter – Jeff Tweedy – has a warm, velevet voice quite similar to Neil Finn but lyrically he is on his own. He said recently that his writing is now about getting older and dealing better with ambiguity and the songs on the new album absolutely reflect that. Nothing is literal, the intelligence is oblique, the message is personal, there is a human uncertainty with which I identify. A psychoanalyst would have a field day with a set of his words but the imagery he uses to adorn them defies interrogation. He will offer a chink of light, only to slam the door on your foot. Even a seemingly straightforward ode to happiness (‘Whole Love’) contains shards of self doubt that casts shade on the light. Wilco’s albums have got steadily happier, reflecting Tweedy’s personal circumstances. When he lets go of the songs and gifts them to the band, they acquire a substance which adds weight and substance to the recorded material.

The London show starts with the 12 minute, largely acoustic ‘One Sunday Morning’ – a reflection on the relationship between father and son. It has a repetitive guitar figure that gradually spirals around my brain, dreamy and rhythmic. Each syllable is fat with meaning. The stage is bathed in purple light and the huge Roundhouse venue is like a church. 


As the set gathers pace we see another side of Wilco – the pop group which revels in the power chord. All is executed with rare panache – Nels Cline is a gripping sight, wringing the notes from his guitar, entirely zoned-out, seemingly on the verge of an epileptic fit. The three-pronged electric guitar denoument to ‘Impossible Germany’ is a powerful and exhilarating highlight – every component part locking into place. The drumming of Glenn Kotche ranges from the skittish and delicate to the animalistic. Both he and Cline are renowned avante garde musicians with extensive solo catalogues and you get the feeling that whatever Tweedy throws their way will be taken comfortably in the stride. There is no contradiction in Wilco’s electro/ country contradictions, only that they are able to straddle those extremes and the genres in between with a confidence that defies convenient definition.

At both shows the gorgeous melody of ‘Via Chicago’ is buffeted by sequences of percussive turbulence that finally give way to uplifting harmonics that just soar to the ceiling, and what can only be described as detonations which seem to threaten the fabric of the building punctuate the Krautrock influenced ‘The Art Of Almost’ – a song that encapsulates the Wilco thing of occupying the spaces in between, the unsaid, the unknown. This is where the indefinable magic is made - where the ambiguity is brought into the light and new ground is broken.

Towards the climax the pace is unrelenting and the encores just fly by, with pop veteran Nick Lowe joining them for a song in London. Both shows have seen them up the ante from their tour 12 months ago. The new songs have added texture and elegance and enabled them to span the commercial and experimental opposites of their repertoire without compromise. Both audiences respond enthusiastically to the old crowd pleasers – ‘A Shot In The Arm’, ‘Heavy Metal Drummer’, ‘I’m The Man Who Loves You’  - and spine-tingling as these power pop nuggets are I’ve found my own highlights in new songs such as ‘Rising Red Lung’ and ‘Open Mind’.

So Wilco are the whole package, the whole love. Tweedy isn’t an especially endearing figure but he has integrity and honesty. He is also the leader of a band who are setting the bar for live music experiences, steering the juggernaut down an unambiguous path to greatness.