Wilco (the Writeup)

Nels Cline belongs in Radiohead. Somehow the best in Americana rock got lucky in the guitar draft and snagged Cline from his rightful place shredding for the UK's most alienated and that's their loss and Wilco's gain and our gain to boot.

Wilco the Album and, I'd say, to a lesser extent, Sky Blue Sky have given the band a new purchase after Yankee Hotel Foxtrot—an album that any lesser band might consider a classy, definitive statement. And Cline is the factor that has them moving forward. He's got an appealing, thrash style of soloing (displayed mightily last night at Wolf Trap) that is never jammy (this is crucial). As a composer, he writes some incredible contrapuntal lines: I find the best moments on both of Wilco's most recent records to be when Cline is playing right over Jeff Tweedy's verse. Any other guitarist would railroad the vocal; Cline makes it work.

I'm willing to believe Tweedy when he says that the band isn't all about Tweedy any more (contra what Chris concludes, in a meatier review here). I'm not sure Tweedy believes the band isn't all about Tweedy, though. In the Wilco concert DVD Ashes of American Flags, Tweedy peddles some bullshit about the band's mythology and spins the centrality of each of the players to the Wilco sound and vision—which goes to illustrate that Tweedy is the band. But I'm not sure that's the case going forward, having heard Cline absolutely tear it up on "Bull Black Nova" and "Impossible Germany" last night.

Anyway, neither of these setlists is correct, but if you add a bit of the latter to the bulk of the former you get the right idea.

And yes, Wilco started the show with "Wilco (the Song)." This is an unforgivable offense and to let them walk is better than they deserve. It reminds me of a story that Martin Amis tells in his autobiography (stop me if you've heard this one before): His pop Kingsley Amis is reading Money, one of a rare few instances (maybe the first) that Martin is aware that his father is reading one of his books. This is worrisome to Martin, for Money finds Martin introducing Martin Amis as a character in the text—a breach of manners that would have landed Martin over Kingsley's lap were he younger, I'm sure. So as Amis Sr. reads, Amis Jr. looks on secretively, paginating the moments as his father thumbs toward the pivotal point. And of course, Kingsley Amis throws the book across the room.

This is exactly the right response and I hope that those of you fortunate enough to receive a review copy of Wilco (the Album) did the same. Maybe that's why Wilco decided to livestream the album before its release?