WILCO > Wilco (The Album)

Many reviews for Wilco’s latest LP have remarked upon the new disc’s perceived lack of experimentation — and yet the experimental spirit which Wilco is now famous for is still evident on (Wilco) The Album, only deeper down.

WILCO

Wilco (The Album)

(NONESUCH)

[Rating: 4 stars]

Many reviews for Wilco’s latest LP have remarked upon the new disc’s perceived lack of experimentation — and yet the experimental spirit which Wilco is now famous for is still evident on (Wilco) The Album, only deeper down.

For one thing, would Jeff Tweedy have written and released “(Wilco) The Song” in 2001? It’s doubtful. This is also the first time they’ve used a guest vocalist on an album. And the now-solidified roster of sick, simpatico musicians lay down arrangements that are as imaginative and as layered as the ones found on any Wilco record that’s come before.

(Wilco) The Album begins, appropriately, with “Wilco (The Song).” Not since the Beatles donned the mantle of Sgt. Pepper’s and “Hey, hey we’re the Monkees” has a band been so self-referential. It’s been way too long. As a “jokey” piece from a serious band, “Wilco (The Song)” might have fallen flat or come across as trivial, but arch lyrics and a melody that refuses to conform to convention elevate it to prime song status. The words convey what it means to be a music lover, a subject Tweedy has explored over and over again, from “The Lonely 1” to “The Late Greats.” “Are you under the impression, this isn’t your life? Do you dabble in depression? Is someone twisting a knife in your back? Are you being attacked?”

“You and I,” a folksy duet with Canadian Indie rock great Feist is a novelty — a love song that celebrates keeping things at a distance. “Oh, I don’t wanna know, everything about you,” they sing together, sweetly. No one plays the same part for very long on “Deeper Down” which could be about a boxer, or a lover who’s not a fighter. “Underneath the ocean floor, a part of who we are, we don’t explore,” sings Tweedy knowingly.

“You Never Know” is a lyrically weird song, but it rocks hard enough to make sense. “Come on kids, you’re acting like children, act your age, get back to black metal and pearls.” It soon disolves into the drowsy melancholy of “Country Disappeared,” arranged to sound like rain. This leads into the audio ambien of the repenter’s anthem “Solitaire,” which starts as a folk song and ends as an acoustic rambler a la Loose Fur’s “Chinese Apple.” Musically, it captures the sound of the sun coming up, of steam rising from the forest floor.

“One Wing” is the album’s emotional centerpiece. “You were a blessing and I was a curse. I did my best not to make things worse for you,” sings Tweedy darkly, then counters with, “that isn’t true.”

Tweedy is ready to wrassle on “I’ll Fight,” which sounds like another unearthed Woody Guthrie song come to life. “Sonny Feeling” presents a tale of alternate realities, a good feeling rock song about a bad feeling thing. And the taut, blood-spilling “Bull Black Nova” takes you for another fun spin on Wilco the Ride.

All in all, a fine recording of new Wilco tunes. Who loves ya, baby?