The Art Of Intro: Wilco's Opening Tracks

By Marcus Gilmer in Arts & Entertainment on Dec 13, 2011 7:00PM

Earlier this fall, Chicago alt-rock heroes Wilco released The Whole Love, the band’s eighth proper LP and their first release since forming their own record label (though ANTI- is distributing it) and it’s already heralded as the band’s best album since 2002’s Yankee Hotel Foxtrot. The band also self-produced the album and there are certain flourishes - dense layers of organ and percussion - that separate the album from previous efforts even as the band continues, overall, to sound like, well, Wilco.

Perhaps most noticeable is the opening track, “The Art of Almost.” It’s a whirring, spinning track of shambling percussion and orchestral swoons, bleeps and blips. To hear it as your first exposure to The Whole Love, it wouldn’t be surprising to find yourself wondering if this was really Wilco, at least until Tweedy’s familiar croon kicks in. It's as experimental a track as the band has done in their career and yet they pull it off with aplomb as the new album's most adventurous tracks is also one of its best. In his review of the album, Tankboy said of “The Art of Almost”:

And then, right when you think you've reached the end of this ride and things have wound down to a pleasing conclusion, the guitar squalls up to eleven and the drums move room complicated subtlety to a crashing eruption that carries us out of the song on a tidal wave of sound you don't want to end.

And you realize that Wilco is capable of recapturing that live magic in the studio while still indulging their more experimental sonic inclinations. The raw power can be channeled. And here's what we view as the real stunner of an unanswered question; why is this song first? If "Art Of Almost" closed the album we would have exited repeated listens with the feeling of a soothing road trip through familiar lands that suddenly added with an unexpected and surprisingly rewarding left turn.

It’s an interesting point but one I've ultimately come to disagree with. I love the song as an album opener—it certainly hooked my attention—and it was a point that sent me hunting through Wilco’s previous albums and taking a closer look at the first track’s of all their albums. The intro track is the first impression listeners get of the album that’s to unfold, their first sounds of a new album yet to be heard. And going through their discography, it's clear that Wilco is a fantastic case study in the art of the opening track. And, going even farther, looking at the opening tracks of the band’s discography ultimately reflects the band’s own development and artistic ups and downs, a microcosm not only of each album but of the band as a whole, an entity that’s continued to evolve over time both physically and artistically.

As the band has kicked off a week-long hometown residency, hitting five different venues across seven days to promote The Whole Love, now is as good a time as any to explore that evolution.

“I Must Be High,” A.M., 1995

Most know the band's origin story; Wilco was born out of Uncle Tupelo, a trio originally comprised of Jay Farrar, Jeff Tweedy, and Mike Heidorn (and would eventually include future Wilco members Ken Coomer and John Stirratt). That trio was one of several bands (including Jason and the Scorchers, Whiskeytown, and The Old 97's) credited with making Americana - typically referred to as “alt country” - popular again. Uncle Tupelo's imprint is clear here; A slice of sterling alt-country rock with a little stomp, the song encapsulates a similar overall sound of the album, repeated on songs like "Box Full of Letters," "Casino Queen," and "Should've Been In Love." But just as on the excellent album closer "Too Far Apart," "I Must Be High" has more of a hint of rock and sounds, if anything, a bit like Tom Petty, setting the stage for their follow-up, Being There, in which the bands pushes this "alt-country" sound further into rock territory. Lyrically, the song is straight forward, a spurned lover leaving (or, to some fans, the split of Uncle Tupelo), dark subject matter set to a bouncy, uptempo melody that's as easily hummable as any hook Uncle Tupelo wrote.

“Misunderstood,” Being There, 1996

The first track on the band's sprawling sophomore album Being There is a study in duality as it begins with a distortion-heavy rolling thunder intro, the first signal of something different and a departure from the “alt country” sound that dominated A.M.. The song settles into more familiar, folky elements—a gentle piano and strumming guitar—even as Tweedy's murmur of nostalgia goes through its own distortion filter, underlining the rage and alienation that bubbles underneath for the song's narrator. This explodes over the song's final two minutes with more guitar squelching, crashing percussion and Tweedy's gentle vocals raised to a scream as he yells, "I'd like to thank you all for nothing at all," a cataclysmic catharsis that comes to full fruition in a live setting when Tweedy has been known to scream the word "nothing" dozens of times.

The song takes Wilco's "sound," tweaking and twisting it into something familiar yet something askew of that previous formula, a distorted folk with a layer of angst. While it's misleading to say it signals a full change-over for the band—the following track, "Far, Far Away," while beautiful, returns fully to the A.M. sound—it does signal a change that's evident in fits and starts. The band goes into balls-out, full-on rock mode with "Monday," and "Outtasite" as well as "I Got You," which adds more underlying burbling to the mix for sonic layering. And the album closer, "The Dreamer In My Dreams" heads straight for Dylan & The Band territory. Still, even as the band grew its approach and pushed itself between genres, the shifts were subtle even as a bigger shift was on the horizon.

“Can’t Stand It,” Summerteeth, 1999

This time, the bands pushed wound up towards summery pop. Chiming bells, whirling organ, and electric keyboards, gives the song a distinct Beach Boys feel. Sonically, the song is a dramatic move away from the country-fried rock of their previous efforts and deeper into pop, a result of studio tinkering done by both Tweedy and band cohort Jay Bennett. Soaring pop melodies found elsewhere on the album—"I'm Always In Love" and "ELT"—aren't so much the band cutting ties with its past as experimentation in sound, keyboard tweaks and buzzes abound. Beneath the sunshine musical accompaniment are dark lyrics of desperation and hopelessness—"Your prayers will never be answered again"—a dichotomy found throughout the album. Alienation is once again at the forefront—"Struggle to find your skin" and "Speakers are speaking in code"—as desperation sinks in. The easy-going nature of "I Must Be High" is gone, replaced by a sense of the world spinning out of control.

"Can't Stand It" was allegedly remixed by the band to make it more radio-friendly at the label's request. While the album didn't make a splash commercially, it was still a critical hit, a sign of things to come for the band even as they displayed a willingness to push out of their comfort zone. Tweedy and Bennett experimented with new sounds and techniques in the studio, even at the risk of alienating fans (which this album certainly did, especially in light of the more "Wilco-esque" Mermaid Avenue collaboration with Billy Bragg). The funky electric keyboards during the bridge of "Can't Stand It" are a far cry from the slide guitar of earlier efforts and the ringing bells and whistles take the song right to the edge of over-production but never tumbles over. The reward to this risk, though, was a finely-tuned pop album that both paid homage to its influences while establishing Wilco as a formidable pop-rock entity both willing and capable to turn its own successful formula on its ear.

“I Am Trying To Break Your Heart,” Yankee Hotel Foxtrot, 2002

By now, the story behind this album is the stuff of legends. But beyond the story of the behind-the-scenes wrangling—and personnel changes that saw the departure of founding members Jay Bennett and Ken Coomer—is an album that stands as the greatest artistic triumph of the band's career to that point (and still to this day). While not as opaque as, say, Dylan's "Desolation Row," "I Am Trying To Break Your Heart" is no less a sprawling, epic folk song, the tale of a disintegrated relationship seemingly told in reverse by a self-destructive (possibly alcoholic) narrator. It strongly resembles "Misunderstood" in both structure and darker subject matter. This time, though, there's a sense the song's subject has accepted responsibility for his actions; the blame is aimed inward, not outward.

The song's resemblance to "Misunderstood" is an indication that even though the band reached its creative apex (again, to that point in their career), it still had a foot in the past even as it stretched its sonic experimentation beyond anything the band had produced to that point. Beyond the guitar squelches and layered percussion, the band's musical roots never strayed from their strengths: the ramshackle roots rock of "I'm The Man Who Loves You" and the melodic pop core of "Kamera" and "Heavy Metal Drummer" are still easily traceable to previous efforts. But both are heralded in "Heart's" layered percussion that hides a beautiful - even elegiac - melody.

Even as the album appeared to be a sonic left-turn, it was, in actuality, the next logical step as the band took more strategic control over its sound (bringing in producer Jim O'Rourke to massage the tracks, bringing in percussionist Glenn Kotche as its new drummer). "I Am Trying To Break Your Heart" is, at its core, a dark folk song of self-destruction and heartbreak, just as "Misunderstood" was. This was both a new Wilco and the old Wilco, a band coming into its own even as it experienced growing pains, shedding some of the shackles of the past while refusing to chuck out its roots wholesale.

“At Least That’s What You Said,” A Ghost Is Born, 2004

Ghost was the band’s first full effort without Bennett or Coomer, following the tumultuous period that encapsulated and followed YHF. The tumult continued as the album's release date was pushed back two weeks and a short spring tour to promote the album was scrapped as Tweedy entered rehab to deal with an addiction to painkillers. Among the typical pop chestnuts ("I'm A Wheel," “Late Greats”) are plenty of examples of experimentation, distortion, and noise which serve as a reflection (whether intentional or not) of a seismic shift within the band. And the chaos is captured on this track, particularly in the guitar solo at the end of the song, which, by Tweedy's own admission, is the musical embodiment of a panic attack (a technique which would repeat itself later on the album on the track "Less Than You Think.") The theme of separation is again present, as it is on every other opening track, building on the theme of the disintegration noted in "I Am Trying To Break Your Heart" with a hint of bewildered bemusement thrown in.

The band continued to stretch its creative legs, most notably on "Less Than You Think" and the Kraftwerk-inspired, ten-minute "Spiders (Kidsmoke)," one of the albums songs that signaled yet a further foray into art-rock the band had established with YHF. When put alongside quieter moments like the acoustic hush of "Muzzle of Bees" and "Wishful Thinking," there's also a sense of an identity crisis as the transition continues. "At Least That's What You Said" stands as the song that best serves as a microcosm of Ghost, and possibly the band, as whole: chaotic, discordant, and unstable.

“Either Way,” Sky Blue Sky, 2007

A breezy intro to an overall languid effort, “Either Way” is the first sounds of a new lineup for the band (the same core six-piece lineup the band has today) and of a band catching its breath after a rough stretch, like the sunny morning after an overnight squall, the world washed clean. The experimentalism of YHF and Ghost were reeled in, exchanged for a more conservative, melodic pop approach. One can't help but think back on the quieter moments on A.M. and Being There when listening to the shuffle of "Sky Blue Sky" or the gentle, acoustic whisper of "Please Be Patient With Me." The album also returns to a more direct lyrical approach (perhaps as a result of lyrical collaboration amongst the band), something seen in "Either Way," with Tweedy declaring, Maybe the sun will shine today / The clouds will blow away / Maybe I won't feel so afraid / I will try to understand / Either way."

Nothing on Sky is necessarily adventurous, as "Either Way," indicates, but there are still moments of bliss, "What Light" the best among them. The "glass-half-empty" crowd viewed Sky as a mundane effort, the band exhibiting as much indifference as Tweedy sings on about on "Either Way." But to those who took a more positive view of the album, it was the sound of a band getting a second wind (or third, or fourth...) after a nearly 15-year career of rotating members, illness, addiction, and record label battles, readying itself for the next stage in its continuing evolution. Four years and two albums later, in the context of the band's career, this view fits more than it did previously, knowing where the band has ended up. It's not the most exciting entry in the Wilco catalog but it's no less charming and beautiful.

“Wilco, The Song,” Wilco, 2009

As if to cement the idea that Sky Blue Sky was merely the band catching its breath and preparing for the next step in a long career, "Wilco (The Song)" has Tweedy declaring, "Wilco will love you, baby," a reassurance that, no, the band isn't going anywhere. In fact, from the opening notes of Wilco, the band sounds as strong as ever, the sounds of albums past congealing into a roots-rock album that encapsulates the band's career while exhibiting a new-found confidence as the band gets its groove back, the result of its new lineup finding its footing.

The resulting album is more playful, the album feeling like the result of Tweedy continuing to feel more comfortable with the band's current incarnation. While there's still some of the breeziness from Sky bleeding over (the Feist duet "You and I"), and stronger ties to early Wilco, the album is still infused with elements of the band's more experimental phase, evident in the sonic layering and underlying squelching guitar line of "Wilco (The Song)" and on the pulsating "Bull Black Nova," which sounds like a more polished remnant of something from Ghost-era Wilco, a bridge between the band's past and present.

“Art of Almost,” The Whole Love, 2011

If Sky Blue Sky was the breezy opener to a new beginning and Wilco was the new lineup finding its groove, than The Whole Love is that lineup, now fully confident and comfortable, stretching its sound and pushing its boundaries. It’s no coincidence that many critics heralded the album as Wilco’s best since YHF; The Whole Love is the first time the band also sounds comfortable enough in its own skin to take the risks necessary for artistic growth. The refreshed confidence and freedom is evident on “Art of Almost,” a slice of pulsating, jittery art rock that winds its way through a skittering percussion intro before easing into Tweedy’s vocals, not unlike “Misunderstood” or “I Am Trying To Break Your Heart.” (In fact, “Art of Almost” follows the same formulas of those songs: cacophonous intro -> gentle Tweedy singing -> instrumental chaos -> subdued fade out.)

Just as on Wilco, the band's past and present combine on Love, the band building on its previous artistic achievement (the punchy "I Might") while staying in touch with its identity ("Sunloathe" and "Open Mind" would feel at home on just about any of the band's albums).

"The Art of Almost," ironically, contains a sense of almost having the courage to create something—be it love or, literally, art—that is apart from the narrator's personal status quo. It's ironic because, with this song, Tweedy and company have proven their ability to push themselves beyond their previous comfort boundaries. While there are plenty of hints of the past on this new album, this singular track is, as I mentioned earlier, the most experimental thing they've ever produced and, yet, it's a rousing success. You can call Wilco many things derisively if you don't like them—"Dad Rock," art rock, boring—but you can never call them complacent.

As for the way "The Art of Almost" it opens Love in a similar fashion to the aforementioned albums, it's worth nothing that it each of those three openers also happen to open the band's three most critically lauded albums. That the openers are similar is probably coincidence; that these are the band's three most notable albums thus far is less so. Each of those three albums—Being There, Yankee Hotel Foxtrot, and The Whole Love—serve as milestones for the band's career, marking major points in the band's evolution as the albums in between, particularly the stretch between Foxtrot and Love, serve as smaller examples of growth on the band's trajectory.

Over that career, as seen in the above tracks, the band pushed the limits of its sound, never happy to settle permanently into one mold, always trying to tweak and improve their formula with varying degrees of success. And yet they never wandered too far from what they do best, never completely abandoning their core sound even as they were willing to push those boundaries. Not only is it admirable, but it's pretty rare; few bands (the recently disbanded R.E.M. among them) were able to do this over the duration of an entire career, constantly tinkering with their sonic identity to grow even at the risk of commercial failure.

There's still plenty of music to come from Wilco; That much is evident, particularly given their constant run of sold-out theater tours across the country and the high quality of their recorded output. And given the growth the band has shown, this willingness to experiment with a winning formula to make something better, there's reason to be excited about what's still to come.

Wilco continue their week-long hometown run with a show tonight at The Riviera, at The Vic on Thursday December 15, at The Metro on Friday December 16, and at Lincoln Hall on Sunday Dec. 18. All shows are sold out.

Marcus Gilmer is an Associate Editor at The A.V. Club.