In a world absorbed in chaos, Wilco deliver a cohesive and effortlessly confident masterpiece. It's an album crafted by a group of souls that have found a common thread which weaves a sound of pure emotion, exuding sheer joy and hope in current times when such feelings appear out of reach to many.
If you are coming to Wilco for the first time, then buy with confidence.
If you are a well travelled fan, this album, for the very reasons above, could feel lightweight on first hearing. The groove that connects the members of this group etches an album void of the jarring and dischordant edges that have been the trademark of Jeff Tweedy's merry men over their albums in the `Noughties'.
If intial listening to `Summerteeth' and `Yankee Hotel Foxtret' required an element of perceptive re-tuning of how one listened to a Wilco record, then `Wilco (the album)' almost requires a perceptive de-tuning when listening to it. In strictly Wilco terms only, it's their `Wilco Lite' record. On the surface at least.
Their prior albums have spanned such a kaleidoscope of sonics and styles, albeit rooted in Tweedy's infused sense of American musical heritage, that to even suggest the notion that Wilco's 8th album could possibly offer anything approaching a fresh experience for their established fans would seem far fetched. Yet somehow, ths album does exactly that.
The album opener is a congruent rocker. A manifesto proclamation that now that Wilco - the band - have found a peace within themselves, they can offer a musical 911 / 999 service to their fans and spread the good vibes! How charming. It is alarming infectious.
But the lead `radio' track on this album is `You never know', surely a homage to George Harrison's `All Things Must Pass' era, consciously or not, which insists you play it on repeat.
`Bull black nova' is a Loose Fur-esque screamer.
`Deeper Down', `Country disappeared', `Solitaire' are fine mid-tempo Wilco tracks.
`You and I' (the duet with Feist), `I'll Fight' and `One Wing' are sing-a-long-ingly sweet`n'sour love songs.
The album closes with the affecting `Everlasting Everything', which unintentionally will no doubt carry an intensity for long term Wilco fans, who may find it hard to not listen to the soul baringly straight talking lyric ('Everything alive must die...') and avoid having a thought or two for the former Wilco member Jay Bennett, who died last month.
Whilst this record neither displays emotions of uncontrolled angst, nor laconic aloofness, it is a record that is hard not to listen to over and over again. Wilco have delivered a damn near perfect album.
Buy and enjoy.