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$15.99 CD
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WILCO
A Ghost is Born
(Nonesuch)
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"At Least That's What You Said"
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"Spiders (Kidsmoke)" |
If I write this review do I have to choose sides? If you believe
everything people tell you, Jeff Tweedy and Co. are without a
doubt one of the greatest, most startlingly original, inspirational,
honest, overrated, mediocre, lazy and dull bands alive. Is it
possible to be brilliantly boring? Well if anyone can do it, Wilco
can!!! Oh, sorry for the snide rock-criticism-criticism. I know,
get to the point.
The point is that Wilco are back for the follow-up to their breakthrough
2002 smash hit Yankee Foxtrot Hotel. Without stagnating,
in many ways A Ghost Is Born is a similar record to that
album, featuring a similar line-up of musicians (a small surprise
for a band that has continually evolved since the breakup of Uncle
Tupelo), including your favorite stuffed bunny producing (and
performing on nearly every track), Jim O'Rourke. The band has
fallen into an interesting niche, not foregoing their country-rock
roots, but also unafraid of dissonance and other distinctly different
sounds.
At the core, Tweedy's songs are plain and moody singer-songwriter
excursions, and although they are often a little light on the
catchy choruses, he still calls to mind classics like Nilsson
or David Crosby. But the curve ball Wilco so effortlessly lobs
at us comes in the secret little pockets hidden in nearly every
song; you only need to listen to the first minute or so of the
first track ("At Least That's What You Said") for a
glimpse of their trickery. The gentle piano chords and Tweedy's
melancholy vocals (and lovely poetry) are interrupted first by
a distorted yet melodic guitar scratch, which is soon overwhelmed
by the discordant crash of the band battling for airspace, as
the lovely ballad becomes a battle, between soaring melody and
leaden bombast, judged at the end to be an even tie.
And thus the grudge match begins, between Tweedy's sweet sad melodies,
and the band's inspired left-turns and sharp edges. From laid-back
country, to percolating pop, to the Neu-ish (Kraftwerkian?) chug-chug
of "Spiders (Kidsmoke)", complete with circular grooves
and off-balance guitar freakout, Wilco has again managed to construct
a coherent and moving album out of their many and varied musical
passions. And I'm steadfastly refusing to love 'em or hate 'em,
but instead am quite content to like them a lot. [JM]
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