Heroes are tricky. Especially when it comes to rock, where you could just as easily worship at the feet of a clean-cut, eccentric songwriting genius with self-destruct buttons constantly half-pushed (see Brian Wilson, Rivers Cuomo, Nick Drake) as sacrifice domesticity for a tormented life following the every move of misfits and dysfunctionals (way too many rockers to mention). And we lowly ignoble insects are left expressing our admiration any way we can.
I knew a Phish Phreek that followed Trey Anastasio around for two years. Even two flipped vans and a weeklong vacation to a Canadian hospital couldn’t cull his obsession. But who would’ve thought that the rabid download junkies of today would ever even consider paying for the music they “steal.”
Wilco has once again caught the music industry by surprise. After its new album, A Ghost is Born, was leaked massively in March, the group did something that never even crossed Lars’ mind. It asked for money from their fans. It asked fans to donate the money they would’ve paid for the album to Wilco’s favorite charity, Doctors Without Borders (www.doctorswithoutborders.com). The band set up a site for people to donate in compensation for their illegal find, and within the first day the site brought in $1500.
This is unthinkable in post-Napster slacker-ville. Who are we to actually pay back the artists we love? Obviously we care more than the RIAA will acknowledge. If a band deserves it, its fans will eventually show their loyalty. Rock and roll, especially since the days of heavy-metal bootleg tape trading (’70s-’80s) and the indie-rock explosion of the ’90s, is a loyalty game. Fans play favorites and get freakishly upset when their artists are attacked (be it by another band or a classmate — I used to be vicious to anyone who didn’t like Bad Religion when I was in junior high).
And now Wilco has postponed the album’s release even further after main man Jeff Tweedy checked into rehab for an addiction to pain medication for migraine headaches he’s suffered since childhood. And even a frothy-mouthed fan base already in possession of the album doesn’t mean that no one will show up on June 22, which is A Ghost is Born‘s official release date. Although Wilco’s previous effort (the one that propelled the group to near-god status) had been readily available online for 11 months, the fans still bought Yankee Hotel Foxtrot in droves, slamming it into a No. 13 debut on the Billboard charts, Wilco’s highest position ever.
And a similar outcome will no doubt happen with A Ghost is Born. The album kicks off with the painfully slow melancholic “At Least That’s What You Said,” until the song trips out and bashes itself in with fierce guitar licks and an unrelenting bass drive. The everything-but-the-kitchen-sink ambience of Yankee Hotel Foxtrot is gone, replaced by a live clamor of guitar experimentation and lush slices of waterfall piano.
The 10-and-a-half-minute dweeb dance of “Spiders (Kidsmoke)” is a hypnotic ode to current musical trends (the punk-disco factor of !!!, the Rapture and LCD Soundsystem) with an unremitting song cycle and the usual quizzical Tweedy lyrics.
“I’m A Wheel” is the album’s metric rock-along, where clean-tone guitars rock faster and harder than most radio-rock. But within the album’s context, it is a lighter moment in a phalanx of acoustic-driven tracks. At the crest of the song, Tweedy’s voice becomes an indistinguishable howl, sounding more like a furiously whistling teapot than anything else and sustaining until the chorus begins to threaten, “I’m gonna choke on you!”
The rest of the album demonstrates Wilco’s close ties with Chicago’s post-everything movements, from post-rock to jazz-fusion to blues.
So as Wilco continues to prove itself a heroic musical fixture, full-fledged with rehab visits (although in a different way than the usual rock-star fare) and countless line-up changes, the band’s fans prove that the RIAA is at fault for its own problems. With Wilco’s case, we have a band that’s proven itself over the years, defied record-label influence and been able to drive a slab of its music into thousands of hearts. And people love them for it.
The RIAA and the countless mass of self-involved musicians should take note. Wilco was never in it to sell compact discs, and in the long run it’ll definitely end up on top.
