Albert Tatlock

Ireland 21 Wales 23

I heard that when Superman goes to bed, he sleeps in Bbop pyjamas.

How The Brits Rocked America: Go West (Episode 1)

 

Another great BBC documentary.

Friday night from 9 to midnight is music night on BBC4. After that they showed this.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vlg4AWW8ogI

As a UK resident I can catch up on BBC iPlayer, but I think it's all on YouTube in chunks

Why can' t you just stack the macaroni straight?

A reminder to myself about how great this series of 10-15 minute episodes was. To those wo have never heard of it, the premise is that a bunch of famous people 'retire' to a suburban street in the UK. All are played by the brilliant Sessions & Cornell. The clip above collects most of the bits featuring Mick & Keith, who now run the corner shop.

Search YouTube for some more clips to set yourself up nicely for the weekend. Enjoy!

http://aidinvaziri.blogspot.com/2012/01/pop-quiz-wilco.html

 

Wilco's Jeff Tweedy gets more comfortable

Aidin Vaziri

Sunday, January 22, 2012

 

Wilco is playing a bunch of shows in the Bay Area next week. So we tracked down the group's front man, Jeff Tweedy, 44, at his home in Chicago to talk about potential special effects, surviving life on the road and once again changing things up with the group's eighth album, "The Whole Love," released on its own label, dBpm Records.

Q: Your kids recently went to the Kanye West and Jay-Z show. Did you tag along?

A: I was on tour. I missed it.

Q: I was curious how your attendance would affect future Wilco concerts.

A: Well, it's not like I live in a cave - I would have a fairly good idea what to expect. It sounds like it was a massive production. They thought I should just get a lot of lights.

Q: Every photo I saw from that tour just showed a lot of people staring at a huge white light. I don't think Kanye West and Jay-Z were even onstage.

A: Yeah, exactly. Just blind everybody for two hours. There must be some scientific way to burn your image into someone's retina so they think they saw you.

Q: Would you take advantage of that technology?

A: Not all the time. Maybe half the time. It would be a Tony Clifton thing. You would never be quite sure whether you would get Wilco or not.

Q: So after 20 years of doing this you don't mind going out there?

A: It's gotten more comfortable. The difference between touring 20 years ago and now - it's about as different as you can make it.

Q: Is the band less fun now that you're not a tortured artist?

A: I would always argue we are a band of guys that are fairly restless and curious musically. I believe rock 'n' roll means liberation. It means you should be able to draw from anything and make it something.

Q: People want you to change everything with every album. Doesn't it get exhausting at some point?

A: I don't think we've ever made the exact same record twice. At the same time I feel like people have (made a) much bigger deal of the differences than are really there. If I'm playing a solo acoustic show, it's pretty difficult for someone who isn't well versed in Wilco lore to tell what songs are from what year. They all sound alike. They sound like the same band, the same guy. It's not important to us to reinvent the wheel.

 

http://www.sfweekly.com/2012-01-25/music/wilco-nels-cline-jeff-tweedy-nels-cline-singers-the-warfield/

 

 

 

The Wizard of Wilco: A Conversation with Guitarist Nels Cline

 

By Ian S. PortWednesday, Jan 25 2012

 

 

Nels Cline is extremely lucky, and he knows it. Widely regarded as one of the world's finest living guitarists, Cline came up playing styles of music whose audience is sadly shrinking: jazz, improvisatory, and avant-garde. If those were the beginning and end of his interests, you probably wouldn't be reading this article. But throughout his career, Cline, 56, has kept one foot on in the pop music world, collaborating with artists like Mike Watt, Sonic Youth, and even Willie Nelson. Still, none of those associations raised Cline's profile as much as joining the celebrated Americana rock outfit Wilco in 2004. Now, Cline gets to lend his virtuosic wailing to some of our era's finest rock — and play for large crowds all over the world — while working with his own experimental trio, The Nels Cline Singers, on the side. Ahead of Wilco's three Bay Area shows this week, we spoke with Cline to find out how that all works out.

 

At what point does your guitar work figure into the writing of Wilco songs? Are you improvising leads when you're playing through demos? Do you add those later?

A lot of stuff's added later. I tend to at times become a bit of a rock classicist, so I start going with some more familiar sounds, or things that I consider to be more of a classic sound. And that's not really what everyone's looking for — I mean, that's not what Jeff [Tweedy] is looking for most of the time. I seem to have some kind of a reputation for strange noises and whatnot, but these aren't my first impulses.

 

I was going to ask whether you end up pushing the music of Wilco in a more avant-garde or experimental direction. But it sounds like sometimes they push you in more of an out-there direction.

The idea that I'm pushing the band in any direction is not an accurate one. I think live there are certain things that I've added since I joined that have to do with my own kind of world of sound design, with controlled feedback and looping. Maybe I've ramped up the energy on a couple of the solo spots. But overall, no, I have not in any way tried to push the music in any direction — frankly, I think I take direction.

 

You've played with a ton of people — Mike Watt, Charlie Haden, Thurston Moore. What do you like about playing with Wilco?

There are a lot of things. There is a kind of ability for Wilco to tap into this sort of prolonged adolescence that I've been living in, but at the same time still be a very sophisticated and — dare I use the word "adult-leaning" — ensemble for a rock 'n' roll band. We don't have to play hit songs, because there aren't any. The baggage of Wilco is sort of lost on me. It's lucrative, meaning that I get to work a lot, but also it doesn't feel like work because we're playing rock 'n' roll. And crucially, there's good band chemistry and good personal chemistry, so that it's actually a pleasure to go out and play. I don't really have much of an ability to get my own music out there and live or die by it at this point — it was too hard. I get to do it now in between Wilco activities ... so it's kind of having the best of both worlds for me.

 

How has being in Wilco changed the profile of your solo work?

Well, I think that I might sell a couple more records. But it's certainly made an impact on my live playing. More people come to the gigs because I'm the guitarist in Wilco.

 

What's your sense of how the audience for jazz, avant-garde, and improvisatory music has been holding up?

This is a tough topic to talk about, because frankly, I think we're in a period of struggle in general with culture in our country. I go back to a time when there weren't so many formats and labels on artistic endeavors as there are now. There was a lot more experimentation, a lot more interest in that. So whereas a lot of the music that I was listening to and influenced by in the '70s may not all have been super successful, for the most part the people who were performing it were able to play in decent venues and be paid attention to, sell some records, have careers. That these people would not have record label deals now or not be playing decent halls is an obvious fact.

Now there's the idea that music is essentially free, that you can just get it for nothing. Part of me is completely reconciled to the idea that we just have to keep playing live. But for a lot of people — particularly, I think, small underground artists — the idea of playing in the United States of America as the only option is an impossibility, because it's too expensive to tour. So I would like artists in general to be able to thrive ... but I'm also not going to whine about it. There's always going to be curious young people to check it out and to create their own music. It's just harder.

 

What newer artists are you listening to these days? What are you listening to in general?

I'm sure everyone's tired of hearing me say that I always listen to Deerhoof and Low and Sonic Youth, but that's a fact. Particularly when I'm feeling down in the dumps, Deerhoof is a splendid antidote. It makes me super happy to listen to Deerhoof on every level. As far as younger bands go, I'm drawing a blank right now. I really like tUnE-yArDs.

 

one wing is outstanding.

That was the other one, yes :-)

Indeed. Lots of stuff for the musicians, so completely ignored by me.

"Everybody in the band has to take into consideration that there’s an acoustic instrument onstage, and I think having a lower overall stage volume is the only real key to getting it to work."

This was interesting to em, as it it my most common gripe with live shows from any band. Increased volume does not equal increased energy. Night 1 at the RoundHouse in September strayed some way over the line (though certain songs had a visceral appeal because of it), night 2 was just right.

Far Far Away? Splendid.

 

Cruel to be Kind? Eh.

The Boiiing and Basher.

Blasphemer!

Indeed

Well I liked Wilco The Song anyway, though not a lot else from that album.

http://blogs.phoenixnewtimes.com/uponsun/2012/01/wilco_john_stirratt_interview.php

 

Wilco's John Stirratt on The Whole Love, The Autumn Defense, and Lacking Irony

 

By Jason P. Woodbury Wed., Jan. 18 2012 at 8:30 AM

 

 

 

Though the Wilco lineup has solidified since 2007's Sky Blue Sky, the years leading up to that album were marked by turnover. Of the original lineup, only songwriter Jeff Tweedy and bassist John Stirratt remain. In fact, Stirratt's ties to Tweedy stretch all the way back to Uncle Tupelo, the seminal alt-country band he played in with Tweedy and Jay Farrar before forming Wilco in 1994.

Coming up on 20 years of active Wilco duty, Stirratt says that the band is playing at the "height of their power." The band's latest, 2011's The Whole Love certainly bears out his statement. Opening with the clattering "Art of Almost," the record explores both gentle balladry on songs like "Open Mind" and artful power pop with songs like "Born Alone." Stirratt's bass playing is at the forefront of "Capitol City," acting as melodic element of ornamentation, and gritty and fuzzy on "I Might," which serves as the best garage rock jam we didn't know Wilco had in them.

Speaking over the phone, Stirratt and I discussed the band's Grammy nomination (Best Rock Album), the new album, the current Wilco lineup, and why people didn't seem to enjoy "happy" Wilco.

Up on the Sun: The last time you guys were in Arizona, you played in Tucson, but it's been a long time since you've played Phoenix or Tempe.

John Stirratt: I was trying to remember the last Arizona gig . . . I'm trying to remember the last Phoenix or Tempe gig, and I can't remember when that was.

Jeff did something solo acoustic at the Orpheum, and I caught both that and the Tucson gig, but everyone is really looking forward to having you back in Tempe.

For sure. We don't get to do the West Coast enough, in my opinion. It feels like we're [always] in Europe. We do Barcelona two or three times before we do L.A. or Phoenix [laughs]. It's always nice to get out west.

Congratulations on the Whole Love being nominated for a Grammy. I imagine it's a cool kudos but not something you guys think about a lot about internally.

Yeah, it's always nice and fun. We have gone [to the Grammy Awards] but it's funny, the one time we didn't go was the one time we won [laughs]. So we're thinking the more we go, the less chance we have of winning. But it's nice, it's worked out well. After the West Coast tour, we'll just go and hang out in L.A. afterward.

The record is really enjoyable.

We're really happy with it. It's my favorite that we've done in at least four records, maybe. It's a good feeling. The lineup really everyone opened up on it. The last one, too, but this one especially.

This is the third record with this lineup. What do you think it is about this lineup that has made it what it is? I'm sure it's not just one thing, but it seems like this group has gelled in ways past lineups haven't.

I think it's just everyone is at the height of their power, playing in the band. Nels Cline was a legend before Wilco, to a lot of people, and everyone is at a level of seriousness that you have in your early 40s. [We're] you know, all better at our individual craft, and there's a high level of musical generosity at work.

It's people listening to each other and guys that aren't afraid to sit out for a beat here and there. It's very sympathetic. It's also a tight group of people. We've gotten along off stage really well, too. I think that's really it. I'm not really speaking to myself too much, but there's a lot of talent in the band [laughs].

 

You spoke about generosity, and I think that's really on display with these songs. Having seen Tweedy perform Wilco songs acoustic, you get a very good sense of his songwriting, and hearing them performed as a band you get more of a sense of Wilco as a group. This record showcases that; songs like "Sunloathe," with the sort of Zombies-like orchestration, are really indicative of how you guys arrange as a group.

That's a lot of Pat Sansone, for sure. There is a challenge with a six-piece band, you know, with so many options to go with. I think Wilco (The Album) suffered in some ways from not having enough time to really get it together. This album we really hunkered down. I think Jeff really heard a lot of it when he wrote the songs -- there were probably more "completed" songs than normal. He always leaves certain things open ended for things to happen in the studio, but "Born Alone" is an example of "Hey, I've got this melody, and a bridge was sort of added and we recorded it right there. It's sort of a combination of crafted songs and building songs together with a certain spontaneity as well, sort of live cuts.

You mention completed songs. "Capitol City" is sort of an older song that had been kicking around for awhile, correct?

Yeah, it was. In fact, I think I remember when we were doing spontaneous jams leading up to Ghost is Born, I remember it there. So that's like, 2003? I guess he [Tweedy] had the verse, and the outro into the bridge thing. We weren't quite sure but all this sort of ornamentation started happening with that song, and there was a sort of thread between that song and songs like "Sunloathe," and that sort of production sensibility. So you know, I think we're getting better at making more sprawling records. There are songs that are essentially different threads when we make a record, and the goal is to try and unite all these different sorts of feels and styles; I think we're getting better at that. But yeah, it's a cool song, and it's divisive as well, so that's interesting.

You mentioned Pat Sansone, who is your partner in Autumn Defense. Do you have plans to do another Autumn Defense record?

 

We have one under way already. We've got five or six things tracked. We seem to be on a pretty good schedule. Our records will usually come about about a year and half after a Wilco record. So once the touring kind of dies down a little bit, we can finish it. Yep Roc has been great; they released the last one, and it was a lot of fun. We had a really good tour and it seems to be building over the years in a really nice way.

It's great the way around the time of Sky Blue Sky, some of those soft rock elements of Autumn Defense, which I imagine have always sort of "been there" in the Wilco sound, but around that time they really started to come to the forefront.

Yeah, I agree with that. That record was sort of, these gentle, lilting tunes, and a lot of harmony, and yeah, I think of that as sort of the most Autumn Defense-like Wilco record, for sure. I think, again, there are these sort of different ways the record could have gone, and it ended up going that way. Absolutely. Autumn Defense isn't as well known, but I sort of remember espousing on that when that album came out [laughs].

It seems like keying into those '70s sounds, especially in the last couple years, has become a more common thing, I don't want to say a trend, because I don't know if that's a trend, but if it was, you guys were certainly a little ahead of it.

That's true. In 2003, I mean, Kings of Convenience have been sort of doing that for awhile, [but] I did think we're a little bit early with that [laughs] for me it's kind of funny to see this lack of irony, this sort of shaking off of -- for guys like me, that came up in the late '80s/early '90s -- this sort of "alternative" attitude, this rejection of anything melodic. It was so weird, because there were a lot of bands that were punk and melodic, like Hüsker Dü and things like that. But you know, I remembering people dissing on Pet Sounds. I really do, like, in the late '80s. And forget about Bread. The lack of irony didn't start happening till well into 2006, you know, to talk about Bread without being lynched. So yeah, I think it's a part of our record collections, but I still listen to as hard of music as I can, at my age. [laughs]

It seems like irony has always been lacking in Wilco, and I think that's had a lot to do with people loving your records. Irony has its place in music, and something can be funny and good at the same time very easily, but Wilco doesn't sound like its ever been an "ironic" band.

Yeah, it's really funny. They have been some very earnest records. I think that's something I love about Jeff. You try to have humor, but that kind of writing is just a different thing. I love Pavement and bands like that, but I always felt that like that wasn't completely where I was at.

But then with songs like "Wilco (the Song)," you guys had some fun. It was obviously a different kind of humor than something like Pavement would have done,

Right, and I don't know if people particularly liked that from Wilco. That's what I learned from Wilco the Album.

I don't know, I love sad Jeff Tweedy, upset Jeff Tweedy, but I liked happy Jeff Tweedy also. Maybe I was in the minority, but how much bloodletting does he have to do? [Laughs]

Just from a tone standpoint, [we wanted to] obviously to mix it up, just letting your personality come out. It's very . . . no matter what you hear from anyone, there's a lot of levity and everyone has a great sense of humor. We do a lot of laughing. So, yeah, this is just part of us as well. Not everyone liked it, but it's earnest.

http://www.denverpost.com/music/ci_19730855

MUSIC

A stronger, healthier man, Wilco singer Jeff Tweedy is ready to show "Love"

POSTED: 01/15/2012 01:00:00 AM MSTBy Ricardo Baca

The Denver Post

Wilco frontman Jeff Tweedy is a direct man, a bandleader who has moved beyond multiple high-profile collisions with bandmates, not to mention a couple of brawls with his own demons. And he's come out a stronger musician.

When asked about the obstacles he's faced throughout his lengthy career in alt-country, folk and rock music — be it a battle with migraine headaches and the painkiller addiction that followed, or the crippling anxiety issues that have made live performances an occasional near-impossibility — Tweedy responded with the casual thoughtfulness that has become his trademark.

"I don't dwell upon things like that," Tweedy said last week, talking before Wilco's long-sold-out gig at the Fillmore Auditorium on Thursday. "That's one of the ways I've been able to get better. I haven't really dwelled on the things I've struggled with any longer than I had to. I take care of myself, and I also know they take a certain amount of maintenance."

Tweedy clearly finds therapy in music. Wilco's output is among the most consistent in modern rock 'n' roll, allowing two years between releases (on average) and touring incessantly. The band' s latest, "The Whole Love," was released in September, revealing a slightly different, more mature sound for the band while still relying on the experimental noises and tactics of its beloved opus "Yankee Hotel Foxtrot."

Songs such as "I Might" carry that brawny, straightforward Wilco punch. "Dawned on Me" thrives with an unsinkable '80s pop sensibility. The Nick Lowe cover "I Love My Label" is a cheeky, self-referential tribute. But other songs, including album opener "Art of Almost," wallow in mellow, if strange, territory and never quite connect the dots.

Like any other band, Wilco writes music and releases records so it can tour — thus paying the bills with concert revenues. But Tweedy has an artful way of talking about the dynamic relationship between the two sides of music: recording a song and playing it live.

"It's nice to have new material to play," Tweedy said. "It's a reason for people to see you again. It's a calling card for your live show. I don't think it hurts anything to put more music in the world. ... But it's a way to stay connected to the thing that is most important, I guess. Because being inspired to create has been the most important aspect that has brought me to this point in my life.

"I enjoy playing in front of an audience, too. I enjoy the connection. The whole point is, I've always had a desire to connect. Making music and making songs up is an effort to connect in one way, and playing them is another way of connecting — but it's a part of the same thing. It's a desire to have a connection with people you don't really know."

And sometimes Tweedy is playing to a lot of people he doesn't really know. Revisiting his past struggles, there's a silence on the telephone as he thinks about what obstacle has been the most difficult to overcome.

"The thing that came to my mind first: playing on festival stages," he said, somewhat surprisingly. "That, to me, was the longest, hardest thing to overcome. But that's not something the whole band might agree with.

"As a frontman, that's always felt very strange, because I don't have a frame of reference. I've seen plenty of theater and club shows, and there's a certain amount of emulation there. I know what's supposed to happen on those stages. But I didn't know what was supposed to happen on the bigger stages."

Whether he's comfortable or not, Tweedy now makes the big stages work for him and his music. There's surely some remnant discomfort, but it's clear he thinks it is all worth it.

Poptodd, I would recommend these

self titled solo debut

One of the best voices (as Bono has testified too if that means anything to you) and an ear for a great melody - or at least 7 out of 10 times :-)

Beatles 90%

Wilco / Maria McKee / Emmylou / Elbow / The Jam around 70%

The rest: no one gets more than around 40%

I don't get easily blinded into accepting everything from anyone.

Nels this time.

http://www.csindy.com/colorado/whole-lotta-life/Content?oid=2416976

Colorado Spring Independent

 

Whole lotta life

Wilco's energetic new album finds Jeff Tweedy loosening up on the reins

by Alan Sculley

 

One thing that's immediately apparent in talking to Wilco guitarist Nels Cline: While founding frontman Jeff Tweedy is still in the driver's seat on the band's recent albums, other voices are definitely making themselves heard.

The eclectic axeman, who joined Wilco seven years ago and was immediately praised for the new sounds he brought to the band, says that multi-instrumentalist Pat Sansone is the member who's most come into his own on the critically acclaimed group's seventh studio album, The Whole Love.

"Pat has a lot of ideas generally, I mean, he's very vocal" says Cline. "There was certainly not a spoken alliance that emerged with Jeff and Pat on this record; I think it was an organic one. But the next thing I knew, Jeff was kind of sitting back and letting Pat try anything and everything."

Sansone's contributions were significant enough that he was given co-production credit, along with Tweedy and Tom Schick. It's the first time a band member other than Tweedy has been individually recognized as such on a Wilco album, although the band as a whole has gotten production credit on a number of past recordings.

Tweedy had always been Wilco's focal point, ever since he founded the group in 1994 after the split of Uncle Tupelo, the influential country-inflected rock band he co-fronted with Jay Farrar. And after a series of personnel changes prior to Cline's 2004 arrival, Tweedy and bassist John Stirratt were the sole original band members. Cline, Sansone, drummer Glenn Kotche and keyboardist Mike Jorgensen complete a lineup that's been in place since 2004.

"Everyone's personalities emerge strongly on this record," says Cline. "I don't think there is any lack of anyone shining on this record in some way — and not in the most obvious ways. I don't mean shine time like heroically, but musically. And I think that Jeff's lyrics on this record are some of his strongest ever."

 

Different directions

 

Although described by the New York Times as "one of the best guitarists in any genre," Cline isn't one to go on about his own talents. But when it's time to talk up his bandmates, he rises to the occasion.

"Mike had some amazing textural, sonic keyboard things that he did on this record," says Cline. "He'd just get all these synths going and all these programs going, and it really was fun to hear him concoct these events. Some of the stuff ended up on the record, and some of it didn't. But some amazing stuff went on."

Cline says a collaborative atmosphere has been present for all three albums this lineup has recorded, going back to 2007's Sky Blue Sky, on which Tweedy involved his bandmates at an early stage in the writing process. With The Whole Love, many of his songs were already fully formed, says Cline, but a spirit of adventure still came into play in the studio.

"There was a lot of freedom and a lot of experimentation and a lot of ideas just put out there," he explains. "We were able to see what made the cut without getting too precious about it."

On "Black Moon" and "One Sunday Morning (Song for Jane Smiley's Boyfriend)," Cline says Tweedy really liked the early versions. "We just kind of refined them a little bit, and Jeff re-sung them, and that's that." But the album's opening track, "Art of Almost," was reworked from a down-tempo tune into a poppy track that liberally mixes electronics with traditional instrumentation, then shifts into a sonically dense and fairly furious finish that spotlights Cline's creative guitar soloing.

"Sunloathe" is another song whose arrangement underwent considerable change. "It became a completely different thing and went through many different phases as far as how to approach each verse, what the drums were going to do," recalls Cline. "The start-and-stop drumming was a later idea. That was just a song that could have gone in so many different directions."

 

Packing a punch

 

The Whole Love is also one of Wilco's more eclectic efforts. For a time the band even considered doing two separate albums before paring it down to the current 12 songs.

Gentle, largely acoustic songs like "Black Moon" and the 12-minute "One Sunday Morning" are interspersed with the compact, catchy "I Might," "Dawned on Me" and "Standing O." There are also enticing hooks on tracks like "Born Alone" and the "Art of Almost," which are bolstered with extended instrumental segments.

Looking back, Cline is pleased with the final result. "This record has some pretty strong bold rock with big choruses," he says. "It's not super heavy, but I think it still packs a punch. I think that's what I like about the sort of pop-rock songs on this record is that, as poppy as they might be, they still have some crunch and a couple of good blows to the breadbasket."

 

Another related snippet from the L.A. Times.

Capitol City field recording from rollcall from a fire drill at a Leeds hotel ...

Drum lesson: Wilco's Glenn Kotche on found sounds

January 10, 2012 | 6:13 pm

Todd Martens

Drum aficionados, this is a good month to be in Los Angeles. This Saturday, Guitar Center will stage its annual "Drum Off" finals at Club Nokia, with a host of session-aces and band members performing mini rhythmic flights of fancy.

Some heavy hitters will be on hand as judges, including Peter Criss from Kiss and the Mars Volta's Dave Elitch, while drummers including Terry Bozzio (Frank Zappa), Mike Portnoy (Avenged Sevenfold), Dennis Chambers (Santana), Brooks Wackerman (Bad Religion) and Jabo Starks (James Brown) are scheduled to play short sets with other musicians.

But drum geeks have another reason to rejoice: Wilco's string of shows in Los Angeles. The Chicago band plays the Palladium Jan. 24, the Wiltern Jan 25 and the Los Angeles Theatre Jan. 27, which means their stellar drummer Glenn Kotche will be there too. The former drum teacher -- himself once a classical percussion student at the University of Kentucky -- has a wide-open view of the instrument. "When I am playing solo, there’s a mission. I am out to prove that this can be music," he said.

With so much drum expertise on the horizon, Pop & Hiss thought it a fine time to dedicate a post to the craft-- or at least to Kotche and his wildly inventive approach to the instrument. It follows yesterday's talk with Wilco leader Jeff Tweedy.

In Kotche's solo atmospheric work with On Fillmore, the drum set becomes an orchestra, bits and pieces of which have been explored throughout Kotche's decade-plus with Wilco, be it the aggressive, double-timed rock of "Art of Almost," the spacious, redemptive groove of "i Am Trying to Break Your Heart," or the found sounds, shuffling toys and back massagers that permeate parts of new album "The Whole Love."

Explain your approach to the instrument. "I think there’s a future in percussion. It’s been codified. ‘This is what it is. This is what its role is.’ I see percussion as a wide-open world. It’s like the last frontier in musical instruments, especially in classical music. It encompasses everything that isn’t a string or a wind instrument. It’s kind of limitless. So when I play solo, or any of the compositions I do, I’m trying to assert that this is an instrument capable of making music. I try not to make it too heady and I try not to make it too low-brow, like the traditional drum solo is the traditional time for the bathroom break. I try to make music."

There's a repetitive roll call in new song "Capital City." This was a field recording? "I made demos for Jeff [Tweedy] last year. He asked for material, so I threw him some drum beats and a collage of field recordings. I know it will never be on the record, but I send it to him. Maybe it will spark an idea? One of those Jeff remembered. It was a field recording we made on tour. We were on tour in Leeds, and there was a fire drill that went off in the middle of the night, and they had a roll call. They evacuated everyone. I recorded it. I record constantly. I have a digital recorder with me all the time. If I go on a walk, it’ll be with me. Anywhere I go, if there’s an interesting sound, I hit record. I’m always cataloguing sound. It’s all percussion, whether it's a baby crying in an airplane, or an amazing escalator vibrating thing."

Explain the back massagers."Some of that stuff I laid on ‘Sunloathe.’ Most of the band weren’t even in the studio. I had my back massagers and hand fans on all the drums, just vibrating and moving around, buzzing. That’s still in the mix. You put them on the drums, and then put some chains and bells on the drums, and you can get a weird drone. If people knew what I was doing, they’d be like, ‘That’s lame. Get out of here.’ But then they hear it and it works."

Talk about the experience of replacing Wilco's original drummer, Ken Coomer, in 2001. "Those guys at that point would be in the studio at 5 a.m., and then I had my first drum lesson at 7 a.m. out in the suburbs, so I was getting no sleep. When they asked me to join, I had no expectations of anything. I thought, ‘Here’s this band, and I don’t even know if I’m the right fit.’ I was wary of touring that much, and I thought the fans would hate me because I replaced Ken. Then the label dropped us. The future was pretty uncertain. People always say, ‘That must have been so crazy,’ but you know what? Not really. It was a functional situation. It was business as usual. This is how bands are. There’s usually a couple freaks and there’s a lot of drama and things don’t always go the way you want them to go. Worst-case scenario, we would have been on an indie label."

How closely did you adhere to what Coomer had done on Wilco's first three albums? "I had a lot of reverence. Ken was the right fit for those records. He sounds great on those records, and I wanted to honor that. So I played what he played. But I’m a fairly different player than him, and my own style would eventually come through. Once we started playing live, what was learned and studied would be left behind."

Rhythm plays a huge part on "The Whole Love." Wilco, for instance, has never sounded as funky as it does on parts of "Art of Almost" and "I Might." "There was a lot more freedom. There was a lot less micro-management. Look, the drums go first. People are always chiming in. ‘Can you go to the rise instead of the hi-hat?’ For ‘Sky Blue Sky,’ it was largely drums-by-committee. I would have my part but it may not work with what [multi-instrumentalist] Pat [sansone] was doing, so I’d change this little thing, and Jeff would have me change that little thing. But with this? This was our own label, no time line, our own studio. Jeff doesn't hold tight reins in the studio. He’s always open-minded and generous. But this one he was very clear: ‘Any ideas get explored.’ If someone had an idea, we did it."

http://latimesblogs....a-concerts.html

Not so much a chat as a few words in the corridor, but anyway ...

Jeff Tweedy chats ahead of Wilco’s L.A. concerts

 

 

January 9, 2012 | 6:07 pm

 

 

In advance of Wilco’s mini-L.A. residency, with dates at the Palladium (Jan. 24), the Wiltern (Jan 25) and the Los Angeles Theatre (Jan. 27), band leader Jeff Tweedy reflected on the band's last decade and a half, while sharing thoughts on the band’s new album, “The Whole Love.”

On Wilco’s live philosophy: “I like the audience being on the same level — a figurative stage. We can put on a pretty good show as entertainers, about half of a show, usually, but then the seriousness has to go away. The ritual of it being a performance needs to be broken in order for it to feel like you achieved your goal. The goal is to join the audience, or make them feel comfortable joining you. I don’t feel like I’m supposed to be up there pretending to be worthy of being looked at.”

On the importance of nonsense: “For a lot of this record I started with the sound. The original version of ‘I Might’ is all sounds. There’s hardly any discernible words in the first take. I sat and listened to it a million times until they started to sound like words, and then I wrote them down. I tried to stay out of the way and not inject too much ego or meaning. I did a version where I sang the words over the grunts and sounds that were there, and it sounded like a tight double.”

On starting its own label, dBpm Records: “We’re trying to prove to ourselves that we’re good enough at putting our own records out. If that proves to be the case — and I never wanted to be a music mogul or be on that side of the table — I can see how it would be gratifying to have a band you love find a comfortable home with our label. But we have to be honest about whether or not we have the energy and the resources to do a good job for anybody other than ourselves. I wouldn’t want to get somebody mixed up in this.”

On the warts-and-all look at the band that is the 2002 documentary “I Am Trying to Break Your Heart:” “The movie has calcified people’s opinions of our personalities, or at least mine in particular. So that’s a reason not to do it again, really, but it’s not a reason to regret it. I know it helped us too. It helped get the word out. I would rather have a mythology to live down than to still be trying to reach out and just get some interest in order to be heard.”

One of the links from that page I had not seen before:-

Wilco's riveting 'Art of Almost,' an oral history

 

October 4, 2011 | 4:32 pm

 

It began as a slow jam. Those who have heard the first track on Wilco's "The Whole Love" know it ended up as something far different. It's a 7½-minute melodic collage unlike anything else in the band's catalog, opening with a crush of digital thunder and ending in a torrent of guitars and rhythms.

In between are mysteriously plaintive vocals ("I'll never know when I might ambulance"), the dirtiest, fuzziest bass in Wilco's catalog and a ping-pong of digital grooves. Occasionally, a restrained guitar makes its way to the front of the electronic soundscapes, as if completely oblivious to the carnage that's about to happen.

"I had a pretty great title, I thought," Jeff Tweedy said recently during a visit to Wilco's two-story Chicago loft. "I had a song that went with that title, and a lot of the same lyrics and same melody. But it had a completely different feel. There was a guitar riff that doesn’t appear at all in this version."

What follows is an attempt to trace the evolution of a song, in this case Wilco's "Art of Almost," from as many different perspectives as possible.

 

SANSONE

It started out as sort of a late-night slow jam. When it was on our CD of demos, my subtitle for it was "Sade Song." It had an '80s, slow-soul feel. I got more involved in the track later in its process.

CLINE

In some cases on this record, the versions of the songs you’re hearing are the first version. We retooled them a little, but they were supposedly demos. In the case of "Art of Almost," it wasn’t simply retooled. It was reinvented. We went from recording this sort of loping, Richard Thompson/Crazy Horse song in a mid- or down-tempo. Then, the next thing I knew the groove had become subdivided. It’s basically a double-time groove, and Mike is layering analog synth grooves on top of it.

TWEEDY

A lot of time, when you get through the shape of a song, and you know you’re not really recording, it’s license to screw around and explore the theme. Glenn started playing a super-cool drum beat. Everything before that was sounding, "Eh, this could work. This is passable. We can make it sound pretty." But that drumbeat just made me wonder, "Can I sing over that same melody?" So we mocked it up on the computer.

KOTCHE

Jeff had a lyric and a chord change, and the first time we tried that I was playing to a drum machine with a CompuRhythm loop that I set up. It’s a groove in more of a soul, low-key thing. At the very end of the song, when the tune was over, I was just messing around and they let the tape play and didn’t press stop. Jeff heard that beat and then we re-tracked the entire thing so that beat starts the song.

SANSONE

I think the idea was to see if we could take the vocal and put it on top of something a little funkier, something that had a little more momentum. Glenn had this drumbeat that he had been wanting to use in a song for a long time, so we brought that drum in. Then we chopped up Jeff’s original vocal from the slow jam and made it work with this new beat. Then I did some Mellotron and then it just kind of unfolded from there. It was really an experiment to see if the vocal could work on a new rhythm. It did, and it set the tone.

TWEEDY

It came together so quickly from that point that everybody could start to see it. How much other stuff from the version could we bring in? Let’s bring in the tremolo pick guitars and stuff and the little cloud of sound. It was a collage over many months.

CLINE

The song became this science project of a song, seemingly in the time it took me to get from the kitchen in the loft back to the mixing console.

KOTCHE

I told John this. I said, "Finally, you will get your due." Not that he hasn’t in the past, but there are sides of John that I’ve never heard, and I’ve played with him 11 years. Like "Art of Almost"? John can play funky? I didn’t know that. Wilco isn’t necessarily a funky band, but I don’t think there’s any other track where his fuzzed bass is sticking through.

SANSONE

It was such an in-the-computer, in-the-studio exercise. That allowed us to let our guard down. We didn’t have to feel like we had to make these songs feel like they happened organically. We could do stuff that sounded studio. That gave us freedom and allowed us to make a record where we do a lot of editing.

KOTCHE

Mike suggested the ending part -- the double-time thing. I was really opposed to that. I thought it was going to turn into "Freebird." It’s such a cliché to go into double-time at the end, but he saw it. I didn’t see it. I doubted it and didn’t see what it could be. It turned into this amazing guitar raga, weird, punk thing that is a perfect complement to the first half.

CLINE

 

Jeff imagined this coda at the end with me basically trying to rage on the guitar. That’s not something he asks me to do. It’s usually the exact opposite. If he asks me anything, he’ll say, "Can you play that same idea but as though your fingers are all tied together?" In other words, slow down or play less slick. When I heard Jeff was pondering starting the record like that, I was ecstatic.

TWEEDY

It was going to be first on the record for a long, long time. Whether that song was first or not, I married myself to the idea that I wanted to hear a record start with the sound of hard drives. You can’t really hear them, but they’re in there. That’s part of what that sound is at the beginning. It’s the sound of broken hard drives, and the sound of data dying. That song started casting such a big shadow.

CLINE

The sound of hard drives trying to start up? That was fun to record. I think this was [Jeff's] idea of knowing that everything will be listened to in the digital domain. It’s going to be listened to on laptops, on iPods. So, opposed to everyone making things like they sound like scratchy vinyl, I think he wanted to make it so digital -- so digital that it was actually messed-up, vintage digital.

TWEEDY

It opened the door to having the next record be whatever we wanted it to be. You can put anything after that song and people will be ready for it.