Jump to content

Official reviews of The Whole Love


Recommended Posts

  • Replies 337
  • Created
  • Last Reply

Top Posters In This Topic

Yeah I don't mean to bash my man Nels with my Laura Bush comment, but I'm not digging his hairdo these days.. and they went just a little heavy on the make-up.

 

Honestly I really I don't give a shit what he looks like. The man is one of the greatest guitarists of our time.

Link to post
Share on other sites

Yeah I don't mean to bash my man Nels with my Laura Bush comment, but I'm not digging his hairdo these days.. and they went just a little heavy on the make-up.

 

Honestly I really I don't give a shit what he looks like. The man is one of the greatest guitarists of our time.

 

I laughed pretty hard about your comment. The hair is looking pretty wig-ish.

Link to post
Share on other sites

Spin 8 / 10

http://www.spin.com/reviews/wilco-whole-love-dbpm

 

And that photo is doing the rounds

 

 

Twelve years ago, Jeff Tweedy sang, "I dreamt about killing you again last night, and it felt all right to me." Now it's, "You won't set the kids on fire / Oh, but I might." Ideally, he's speaking to the same person. Whoever has been dismissing Wilco as "dad rock" must have pretty complicated relationships with their fathers.

 

Maybe there was a sense, with 2007's postaddiction comedown Sky Blue Sky and 2009's self-consciously cheeky Wilco (The Album), that these guys were settling into middle age with a sigh and a wink. Or maybe the fact that they'd learned to do more than one thing well somehow suggested MOR pandering. In any event, The Whole Love feels more of a piece with 1999's Summerteeth, the caustic pop opus on which Tweedy sped away from alt-country (or y'allternative, No Depression, whatever) in a car far sleeker (and blacker) than the one Hank Williams supposedly died in.

 

Amiably skronky, seven-minute kitchen-sink opener "Art of Almost" aside, there is a concerted effort to mothball the experimental tangents of recent years in favor of laconic twang, organ-driven garage pop, and tempered balladry. This is not to say there aren't moments of dissonance -- 
"I kill my memories with a cheap disease," goes the psych-lite lament "Sunloathe" -- but now Tweedy's showing off his journal, not his record collection. Dad's never cooler than when he's not trying to be.

 

By Steve Kandell

Link to post
Share on other sites

Join the conversation

You can post now and register later. If you have an account, sign in now to post with your account.

Guest
Reply to this topic...

×   Pasted as rich text.   Paste as plain text instead

  Only 75 emoji are allowed.

×   Your link has been automatically embedded.   Display as a link instead

×   Your previous content has been restored.   Clear editor

×   You cannot paste images directly. Upload or insert images from URL.

Loading...

×
×
  • Create New...