A Ghost is Born
Widely credited as the pioneers of the genre which has become known the world over as alt. country, Wilco have redefined their own musical parameters in recent years, concentrating on the alternative and ditching much of the country influence that characterised the classic albums of Woody Guthrie material they made with Billy Bragg. Personally, I find the new Wilco more than a bit frustrating.
John Walshe, 25 May 2004
Widely credited as the pioneers of the genre which has become known the world over as alt. country, Wilco have redefined their own musical parameters in recent years, concentrating on the alternative and ditching much of the country influence that characterised the classic albums of Woody Guthrie material they made with Billy Bragg. Personally, I find the new Wilco more than a bit frustrating.
A Ghost Is Born has much to recommend it, including at least two moments of almost transcendental greatness, in the shape of the sparse ‘Hell Is Chrome’ and the truly gorgeous piano-driven ‘Hummingbird’. Jeff Tweedy’s voice sounds as fragile as a day-old kitten on the former, while the Beatles-esque latter tune is as brilliant as anything they’ve produced to date. Similarly, the simplicity of ‘Muzzle Of Bees’ and ‘Wishful Thinking’ (once it gets going) are infused with an inherent tunefulness that characterises Wilco’s best work.. Or there’s the slightly honkytonk Dylan-meets-the-Stones shuffle of ‘Handshake Drugs’ or ‘Theologians’, the Pavement-like discord of ‘I’m A Wheel’ or the toe-tappingly addictive ‘The Late Greats’.
What stops this from being a classic Wilco record is the fact that some of the songs feel like extended jams which seriously outstay their welcome. ‘At Least That’s What You Said’ starts promisingly, all simple acoustic guitar and Tweedy’s reedy vocal. However, after three minutes, the vocals dry up and instead we’re punished with almost two and a half minutes of meandering, distortion-heavy self indulgence. Similarly, the electronic-sounding ‘Spiders (Kidsmoke)’ is a reasonable idea that’s just not strong enough to hold the listener’s attention for almost 11 minutes. Maybe it’s the fact that I expect so much from Wilco albums that any slight deviation in quality is a massive disappointment. Or maybe Jeff Tweedy & Co. really are trying so hard to become the rootsy Radiohead that they’re turning their back on the things that made us fall in love with them in the first place. Whatever the reason, the end result is an album that is merely admirable when it could and should have been amazing.
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