_Wilco - The Whole Love (10/12/2011)
The ability to make complex music sounds almost childishly
simple is a skill that few artists possess. Wilco reign as kings of this odd,
yet appealing quirk. The Whole Love sounds
like an alternative rock/country record interpreted for children, then
reinterpreted for adults whereby the final product differs starkly from the
original composition. Each song is a carefully calculated submergence into
musical mayhem. It’s structured lunacy and it’s frightfully compelling.
The album opens with the abstract, electronic jungle, Art of Almost, invaded by rising strings and ruptured abruptly by Jeff Tweedy’s smooth vocals. The percussion and various electronic tones emit an animalistic vibe, sounding like bird calls and animal wails.
Everything is dangerously unexpected in I Might, as it lashes out wildly in all directions. Ironically, this song is the least challenging on the album, despite it volatile lack of direction. The catchy acoustic guitars and children’s xylophone renders is oddly comforting, despite being structurally untamed. It’s wild like a glorious stallion, whose silhouette against a misty night sky is an enchanting vision, but whose potentially brutal nature is masked by an unrivaled elegance.
Sunloathe’s eerie piano morphs instantly from chillingly ominous to delightfully juvenile, while Dawned On Me is a fantastic pop song, but is considerably less inventive than Wilco’s previous releases. It seems trite and lazy, but is enjoyable nonetheless. It’s feverishly catchy, with a monstrous guitar that sounds like an enraged man’s voice.
Tweedy attests that “we’re too old for clichés”, yet Open Mind features an almost formulaic acoustic guitar and frustratingly flamboyant country sing-a-long. It’s a magical love-song, however, with Tweedy sweetly declaring that he could “base [his] whole existence on the cherry strands of your hair”.
Capitol City displays a marching band bassline that sounds like a subdued tuba. It’s charmingly simple, yet charismatically complex. Standing O is a brazen contrast to the earlier songs of the album, and thus, feels somewhat contrived. Wilco are notoriously genre benders, but this feels completely off.
The album closes with One Sunday Morning. This is how a Wilco album should really sound. “I fell in love with the burden holding me down”. It’s moody and self-indulgent and it’s exquisite.
Wilco continues to push genre boundaries, and the lack of consistency on this album is almost unsettling. Each track is commendable, but the album is disjointed. There’s no flow. It’s not Wilco’s finest effort, but it’s a stimulating and pleasing album.
Lara Moates
The album opens with the abstract, electronic jungle, Art of Almost, invaded by rising strings and ruptured abruptly by Jeff Tweedy’s smooth vocals. The percussion and various electronic tones emit an animalistic vibe, sounding like bird calls and animal wails.
Everything is dangerously unexpected in I Might, as it lashes out wildly in all directions. Ironically, this song is the least challenging on the album, despite it volatile lack of direction. The catchy acoustic guitars and children’s xylophone renders is oddly comforting, despite being structurally untamed. It’s wild like a glorious stallion, whose silhouette against a misty night sky is an enchanting vision, but whose potentially brutal nature is masked by an unrivaled elegance.
Sunloathe’s eerie piano morphs instantly from chillingly ominous to delightfully juvenile, while Dawned On Me is a fantastic pop song, but is considerably less inventive than Wilco’s previous releases. It seems trite and lazy, but is enjoyable nonetheless. It’s feverishly catchy, with a monstrous guitar that sounds like an enraged man’s voice.
Tweedy attests that “we’re too old for clichés”, yet Open Mind features an almost formulaic acoustic guitar and frustratingly flamboyant country sing-a-long. It’s a magical love-song, however, with Tweedy sweetly declaring that he could “base [his] whole existence on the cherry strands of your hair”.
Capitol City displays a marching band bassline that sounds like a subdued tuba. It’s charmingly simple, yet charismatically complex. Standing O is a brazen contrast to the earlier songs of the album, and thus, feels somewhat contrived. Wilco are notoriously genre benders, but this feels completely off.
The album closes with One Sunday Morning. This is how a Wilco album should really sound. “I fell in love with the burden holding me down”. It’s moody and self-indulgent and it’s exquisite.
Wilco continues to push genre boundaries, and the lack of consistency on this album is almost unsettling. Each track is commendable, but the album is disjointed. There’s no flow. It’s not Wilco’s finest effort, but it’s a stimulating and pleasing album.
Lara Moates