By: Michael Hernandez/Columnist
We usually place predisposed expectations on something. When it comes to Wilco, we have experienced a full circle of music that expands from Americana, to intricate pop melodies, to airy, light folk fare.
They have done it all exceptionally well, so we would not be remiss to think that after “Wilco (The Album)” they had created a final culmination of all their past creations and complete the wide-ranging music saga they constructed.
One thing you can expect from Wilco is that you will always be surprised by their next move. This is the case with their new LP, “The Whole Love,” the first album on their own label dBpm. It is a fresh, invigorating album that differs away with the casualness of their last two LPs.
Opening tracks usually set the mood and the sonic direction of an album, but “Art of Almost” is a fragmented opener.
Static sounds swirling around an unconventional drumbeat with robotic sounds and rain drops have leadman Jeff Tweedy creeping in with: “No, I froze, I can’t be so far away from my wasteland.” Orchestral string slide in the background and hits the crescendo with a full-on rock jam filled with clattered guitars.
It feels like they are teetering on the edge of critical mass by the end of it, with enough frenetic force to show everyone that the daft “dad-rock” genre that has been given to them has dissipated.
There is a wider scope on “The Whole Love,” and Wilco manages to expand on all their past soundscapes. The lead single, “I Might,” chugs through with its crunchy, distorted bass line, courtesy of John Stirratt.
It all simmers together with lively organs and slashing guitars. Even when Tweedy is referencing Slim Jim pies and him potentially setting kids on fire, it is still enjoyable, catchy pop that Wilco excels at.
Beatles-esque songs like “Sunloathe” and the jumpy, synthy waltz of “Captiol City” are still entirely Wilco but contain a ‘70s-inspired sound that you can instantly notice.
Something else that is noticeable is Tweedy’s ability to dig into deeper emotions, like with the catchy “Born Alone” where he openly sings “sadness is my luxury.”
Much like the album, Tweedy forgoes the thought that deep-rooted music cannot be enjoyable and engaging at the same time.
And although he is earnest, on “Black Moon,” Tweedy soulfully croons about being an old shoe, waiting for an awakening.
It sounds like self-introspection, laced with a beautifully paced steel pedal and acoustic. The 12-minute folk closer, “One Sunday Morning,” shows Tweedy sympathetically singing the heartbreaking narrative of a grieving son over his dead religious father that never accepted him.
All of the layered instruments of rain drop-like keys, ghostly-sounding pedal steel guitar, and melodic acoustics that is as pleasant to the ear as it is emotional.
It is a fantastic closer for an album that is as organic and fleshed out as anything they have created.
Wilco is able to create an album that is as enjoyable to blast through your car stereo as it is with detailed listens through your headphones.
Their penchant for crafting adventurous, colorful music is still in tact, and a big “folk you” to anyone that expected middle-aged men to fold.
Radiate Reviews is a weekly music review column. Look for it every Wednesday this fall.
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