Wilco

By now, you probably know the story. Wilco rises from the ashes of the late, great Uncle Tupelo, the group that (for better or worse), critics and fans alike claim helped define a weird hybrid of country/punk/rock in the ’90s.

For the uninitiated, Wilco emerged from the painful breakup of Uncle Tupelo in 1994 with a lineup that contained four former UT members (co-founder and co-front man Jeff Tweedy, as well as John Stirratt, Max Johnston and Ken Coomer) all of whom joined Tupelo for their swansong, Anodyne, which, coincidentally, was the band’s major label debut. (Johnston departed Wilco after the Being There sessions.)

After a month or so in the studio, Wilco released A.M. to the usual critical hosannas, and of course, equally typical minor commercial success. For the 200 or so live dates that followed, the band was joined by Jay Bennett (Titanic Love Affair, Tommy Keene). They toured, as Spinal Tap put it so eloquently, “the world and elsewhere,” playing every smoke-filled hole-in-the-wall from Iowa City to Oslo, finally wrapping things up after a blurry summer on the roving cloud of pot smoke and pointless 20-minute jams now known as H.O.R.D.E.

After that, the band went away for nine months. Nary a peep was heard. Members worked on side projects, tried desperately to resume having lives, and Jeff Tweedy’s wife Susan Miller gave birth to their son, Spencer. From the outside, all appeared well.

Then, out of nowhere comes Being There, the two-record set that accompanies this so-called artist bio. And while it may seem painfully out of fashion o a double record from a band with no substantial commercial base and a concept record featuring a concept that’s quite literally impossible to fathom o it remains the soundtrack to a period in the life of a rock band, and in particular, in the life of Jeff Tweedy, Being There’s sole songwriter. It is, as Tweedy puts it, ” a look at the emotional experience of songwriting from the inside out.”

“I wanted our influences to be right on the surface on this one, because I don’t hear many people doing that anymore. I really wanted it to be, ‘Wilco quotes from their, or maybe your, record collection,’” Tweedy adds.

So what have we here? Nineteen new songs. From the dissonant pop angst of “Misunderstood” and “Sunken Treasure” to the pure, joyous rock ‘n’ roll of “Monday” and “I Got You (At The End Of The Century)”; from the Beach Boys-infected “Outta mind (Outta Sight)” to the live-in-the-studio trash that is “Dreamer In My Dreams,” and the “sure, we can still do this” country-rock of “Forget the Flowers,” Being There is nothing if not ambitious.

As for an explanation, Wilco leaves that to you. Suffice to say that as we face the end of the century, we’re all fighting our private battles and demons. Some of us do it alone, on the dark side of the room. Others throw them out there for public consumption. Dig it or not, you gotta admire the gall. In an age where disposable guitar rock bands are raised to the level of cultural icons, Wilco and Reprise Records took a chance and actually tried to create something of value. Whether it will get swatted back in their faces remains to be seen. To quote Tweedy’s “Misunderstood,” “We’d be remiss if we didn’t add that they’d like to thank you all. They’d like to thank you all for nothing at all.”

Say what you will; Wilco didn’t make the same record twice. They did, however, make two records at once. And now they await your verdict, and however uncool it may be, yeah, they give a damn.