Sky Blue Sky

The release of a new album from Jeff Tweedy and Wilco is usually something to be celebrated, but Sky Blue Sky is likely to disappoint long-time Tweedy aficionados. Gone is the experimentation that characterised Yankee Hotel Foxtrot, A Ghost Is Born and even the classic Being There, to be replaced by a very polished, produced sound, more akin to middle-of-the-road ‘70s rockers than a band heralded (alongside Lambchop) as the most innovative alt. country act of their generation. It’s just too ‘nice’.
Take album opener, ‘Either Way’, a gentle ballad where Tweedy waxes poetical about nature and relationships, taking a very laizzez faire que sera sera attitude. No lyrical barbs, no caustic couplets, not even a witty aside. By the time the twiddly guitar solo enters into the equation after two minutes, the alarm bells should be caterwauling. Normal service is not resumed.
‘You Are My Face’ is better. While it does come on like a soft-rock tribute (the musical equivalent of Cameron Crowe’s Almost Famous anybody?), at least there’s a hint of Tweedy’s wordy worthiness, proof that there’s a smart mouth behind the whorish lipstick. And when they keep it acoustic, the album has a simple, wide-eyed charm, as evidenced by the delicacy of the title track, the gorgeous ‘Please Be Patient With Me’, the life-affirming ‘What Light’ or the quietly charming ‘Leave Me (Like You Found Me)’.
But then there’s the duelling guitar solos on ‘Impossible Germany’ or the rawk-by-numbers of ‘Walken’ that bring the album squarely into the realm of musical masturbation, pure pomp rock in all its yawnsome gory (sic). Or what about the orchestral bridge that turns ‘Side With The Seeds’ into a Queen wannabe, the monlithic chug-a-lug boogie of ‘Shake It Off’ or the truly execrable ‘Hate It Here’?
There’s certainly a warmth at play throughout Sky Blue Sky that recalls everyone from The Band and Neil Young to Creedence in their heyday and Tweedy being Tweedy, there are still a couple of real gems hidden amongst the dross. From anyone else, this kind of homage may be welcome, but when it comes from Wilco, from whom we have come to expect so much more, it smacks of laziness or, worse still, a band running out of ideas. The uneasiest of easy listening experiences.