Most Helpful Customer Reviews
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95 of 112 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars
Not your older brother's Wilco..., April 28, 2002
Once every couple of years, an album comes along that almost-automatically merits consideration as a "Classic" in its genre... I offer you Radiohead's "OK Computer", Lauryn Hill's "Miseducation of...", and (on the ever-growing World stage) Natacha Atlas' Transglobal Underground-fueled "Ayeshteni" as evidence for this trend. 2002's "Yankee Hotel Foxtrot", by Wilco, is the latest album to merit inclusion in the "instant landmark" category. Jeff Tweedy's band has made a record so jaw-droppingly complete, eclectic and satisfying that it would make both Harry Smith and Brian Eno proud. Though often described as a "Hillbilly OK Computer", YHF goes farther, muuuuch farther beyond mere pigeonhole-ization. This is a record of a uniquely sobered sensibility... the studious innocence of Uncle Tupelo's early recordings and "Being There's" sense of wide-eyed optimism are both gone. In their stead, we find a narrator than can, alternately, drink you under the table ("I Am Trying to Break Your Heart"), celebrate Rock 'N Roll without sounding trite ("Heavy Metal Drummer"), and be patriotic without being obtuse or jingoistic ("Ashes of American Flags"). One has to feel somewhat sorry for Jay Farrar... on the same year he releases a sensational solo effort ("Sebastopol"), and in which Uncle Tupelo's greatest-hits compilation comes out, Tweedy outdoes him, again, though this time more severely than ever before.As for several pundits' charge that this record tries hard to be pretentious and "artsy", I will, actually, heartily agree with whoever states that claim... Nevertheless, I strain to remember any album consistently placed in most critics' "Best of All Time" shortlist, which did not initially strive to be "important": "Sgt. Pepper's", "Pet Sounds", "Highway 61", "Born to Run", "Nevermind", etc. ALL were clearly about their respective creators' attempts at critical respectability and, ultimately, historical weight. Tweedy can hardly be faulted for doing the same, particularly in an era of such fluffy, unimportant sonic trifle, courtesy of a conference room-ful of three-piece Swedish suits who write music for thirty-plus men posing as "boy" bands, and for bleached blondes with no vocal talent other than aping faux-R & B mellismas. Wouldn't you just HATE to be that poor sap from Wilco's former record company who told Tweedy and co. to take a walk... with this master-piece in tow?!?!?!
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49 of 57 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars
Wilco's Continuing Migration, April 24, 2002
By A Customer
Four records in and we find wilco further yet from their freshman effort, A.M. First off, at this point in their career to call Wilco alt-country is akin to calling Donna Summers heavy metal. Yankee Hotel Foxtrot takes the listener on an existentialist trip, with the band creating a loose sonic meditiation on distance and love, using random radio signals as a metaphor. This isn't to say that it isn't fun as well - afterall, anyone who's ever seen Wilco live knows that they are spry and playful onstage - and they can rock out with the best of them. With songs like Kamera, War on War, Heavy Metal Drummer (a beautiful ode to youth, innocence and Ray Davies), I'm the man Who Loves You, and Pot Kettle Black, Tweedy and Co. provide enough radio-friendly pop to make you scratch your head at the Reprise execs who said this record was a "career-ender". The world would be a better place if War On War and I'm the Man Who Loves You were booming out of car stereos this summer. That said, this album is chock full of darkness and weirdness as well. Kicking off with "I am Trying to Break your Heart" lyricist Jeff Tweedy takes a haiku-like approach to describing drunken lovesickness. Yeah. And Radio Cure reminds me of noneother than Radiohead, its glum, moody, intriguing and ultimately cathartic. Jesus, Etc. has a great rolling feel accented by a slippery fiddle line and strings that hum out of nowhere and nearly assure that this will lodge in your ears and remain there for a very long time. Ashes of American Flags might make you shiver, its a cold poem on the state of affairs out here in the west. Reservations ends the album eloquenly, gorgeously, and ultimately grounds an album that is dissecting untruths, misundersatandings and miscommunication with one important truth. You have to get there through the album to truly appreciate it. What links the songs is a sonic pallette full of blips, radio pops stops and starts, guitars, horns strings, all forms of odd sounds and fillers pushed through filters, a rhythmic complexity never achieved on a Wilco record, and the poetry, which is VERY non-linear and disassociative, but, taken as a whole, beautiful and imbued with a codified consistency. Its an experience. Its a band that is changing, both in personnel and sound. Its an experience. Its a leap of faith. Take it with them.
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15 of 16 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars
An album in the truest sense of the word., April 25, 2002
In talking to fellow Wilco fans, I've noticed something that I don't often see in fans of other bands - an excitement about change. And let's face it - Wilco's sound has definitely benefitted from a lack of permanent grounding, and YHF takes the biggest steps from the often-repeated stories of Uncle Tupelo this and alt-country that and all the other hogwash.So we can talk about labels and history and the like, but I'll leave that to the music critics. The history only matters if you're already a Wilco fan, and if you're like most Wilco fans, the change from the past isn't even that big a deal. The question is, what merit does this record have on its own? YHF is an album for our times - the human spirit confronted with the modern world is one way you can look at both the songwriting themes and the sounds employed in this album. Put headphones on to hear the organic, typical instruments doing battle with the swirling noise and layered arrangements; this added "noise" is not an afterthought, but a carefully mastered part of the album's whole sound. The feeling you get listening to the way sound is arranged should be a clear indication that there is something deeper going on here, whether or not you're a fan of the noisiness that Jim O'Rourke brings to the table (and even though I usually don't care for this style, I am instinctively drawn to, and pleased by, its execution in YHF). On top of this is Jeff Tweedy's touching songwriting. This is an album to read along to (or sing if you're luckier than I am), so keep the liner notes handy. Tweedy sings songs about the same love, unpredictable and wonderful and painful, in a strange world that is either always changing or always the same. Honestly, I don't know and I'm not going to try any harder than that to say what Tweedy says so much better with lyrics like, "tall buildings shake, / voices escape, singing sad sad songs / tuned to chords strung down your cheeks, / & bitter melodies, turning your orbit around." As he sings this in Jesus, Etc, Tweedy continues to talk about the night sky, and at the same time violins sweep through the air in a jagged, computer-challenged way that feels like the night sky is falling apart. That's just one of thousands of intangible beauties that this album has, combining music and sound and word and thought (pardon if I sound like a hippie) into a truly special album, one that is reborn upon each listen. I have had this album for months thanks to the Internet, but nothing could have prepared me for my first CD listen, w/ liner notes, on headphones. It was an experience I'll never forget. Buy this album.
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