If someone asked me from a historical perspective what is the best way to describe pop music in 1999? The only answer that I would give is to listen and digest Britney Spears’ hit single, “Baby One More Time.” That particular hit single was the beginning of a pop music explosion that occurred during that year. If you were a staunch listener to top 40 singles, 1999 was the year that made you smile from ear to ear. 1999 was the year the country went “pop.” After the grunge explosion of the early 90s, people wanted to hear something that was a little more, “sunny.” Chances are that the soundtrack of 1999 hasn’t left anyone. I’m quite certain that there is some poor shmuck humiliating himself in a dank Karaoke bar to the tune of “Mambo No. 5.”
While pop maestros were crafting an unforgettable soundtrack for that year, the Chicago based group Wilco was going through an evolution. Their 1999 release “Summerteeth” was a “Pet Sounds” like recording that shifted the band’s focus from song-crafting to “sounds.” Their next album, the now classic Yankee Hotel Foxtrot was avant-garde experimentation at its most brilliant. 2004’s “A Ghost Is Born” was a strong follow-up to “Foxtrot,” establishing the group as one of the most adventurous in pop music during the first decade of the 21st century.
Their next two albums, 2007s “Sky Blue Sky” and 2009’s “Wilco (The Album)” had some fine moments, but the group sounded as if they were playing it safe. It appeared they were trying to run out the clock on their already successful career. Most critics and fans accused the group of recording “Dad Rock.” The band’s motivation throughout its career isn’t to give fans and critics what they want, but rather to challenge the tastes of anyone who spends about 40 to 45 minutes listening to a Wilco album. Their latest album, “The Whole Love”, which has been released on their new Independent label, dBpm, is a record that tries to split the baby. On one hand, there are tracks that have them indulging in the creative experimentation that have garnered them the respect that they deserve, on the other hand, there are songs that recall their period when the primary focus was song-crafting.
The first half of the over seven minute long opening track, “Art of Almost,” is saturated with sounds that include static, guitar licks that sound like gunfire, and gorgeous keyboard work. As the song progresses into 4:47 mark, the drums kick in, albeit not too violently, and Nels Cline polishes off the track with some of the most incredible guitar playing he’s done since joining the group. The lyrics are both poetic and a tad ridiculous. “I froze/I can’t be so/Far away from my wasteland/I never know when I might/Ambulance/Hoist the horns with my own hands/almost/almost.”
The final track of the album is the 12 minute epic, “One Sunday Morning (For Jane Smiley’s Boyfriend).” Quite possibly the most beautiful song that Jeff Tweedy has written for the band he’s led for almost 20 years. The recording recalls Wilco before “Summerteeth” and “Yankee Hotel Foxtrot”, both very simple. With a pretty guitar lick that is warm with a country flavor added to it, modest piano chords, and a touch of that sonic ambience in the background. Tweedy’s lyrics delve into the complexity of the father-son relationship. “This, I learned without warning/Holding my brow/In time he thought I would kill him/Oh, but I didn’t know how.”
Other tracks include the straight rocker “Standing O.” “Born Alone,” is another rocker with a guitar lick that would make Tom Verlaine and Richard Lloyd of Television proud. Tweedy’s lyrics again range from poetic to head scratching. “Reverse a riddle for my health/I’ll unwind strange rinds overpowering/Toss the chimneys in the sea/I believe I’ve seen/The finger divine extremity.”
If there’s a possible clunker on this record it would have to go to the track, “Capitol City.” The song reeks of Randy Newman. That isn’t to say that I don’t have a fondness for Newman, it’s that Jeff Tweedy, who is a great songwriter in his own right, does a bad imitation of Newman’s songwriting ability. It’s like Tom Waits trying to be like Jeff Buckley. Despite the 4:06 that I probably won’t get back after listening to “Capitol City,” The Whole Love is a near perfect album that illustrates Wilco at the height of their creative apex.
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