Official reviews of The Whole Love

[choo-choo-charlie]

I think your assertion is interesting, but could also be interpreted as reading too much into it. I view the lyrics of "I Might" as a bunch of cool-sounding nonsense. To me, it's more about the sound of the words, the syllables and the rhythm of the vocals and the overall texture of them, more so than any inferred meaning.

[bleedorange]

I think everyone is reading to much into the "you won't set the kids on fire" lyric. To me it's a dad rock reference about wilco's music not exciting the young kids and to that Tweedy responds " oh but I might.". Anyone else read it that way?

 

That's the impression I first got. Haven't really paid close attention to the rest of the lyrics in that song, so I'm not sure about context.

[junkiesmile]

I think your assertion is interesting, but could also be interpreted as reading too much into it. I view the lyrics of "I Might" as a bunch of cool-sounding nonsense. To me, it's more about the sound of the words, the syllables and the rhythm of the vocals and the overall texture of them, more so than any inferred meaning.

I meant people are reading to much darkness and angst into it because that's how they like their Wilco.

[moxiebean]

I think everyone is reading to much into the "you won't set the kids on fire" lyric. To me it's a dad rock reference about wilco's music not exciting the young kids and to that Tweedy responds " oh but I might.". Anyone else read it that way?

Yup.

[TLF18]

The Whole Wilco: Tweedy Finds a Fix for the Fits

 

review: http://bumslogic.wor...x-for-the-fits/

 

 

and this one was my review, so thanks for posting it!

 

 

wait.... i posted it.

 

carry on.

[lost highway]

Entertainment Weekly: A- (feels like the review should be written in red biro)

 

http://www.ew.com/ew...0530263,00.html

 

[/size]

 

More fetishizing of pain.

[Autumnteeth]

 

My first thought was it reminded me of four Beach Boys songs: County Fair/Country Air/Busy Doin' Nothin'/Heroes and Villains. I have not listened to the stream that much - but I like that song.

I like the analogy. I knew it reminded me of something. Heroes and Villains is that same sort of jarring stop and start thing. I really do like Capitol City. I originally thought it was a nice little diversion but I have started wondering what the hell it is about. It sounds like he is making excuses as to why he hasn't called, why she shouldn't join him, but then he says he will go back home, or back where she is. For a diversion song it takes some time to get into.

[Albert Tatlock]

Chicago Tribune 3 out of 4

 

 

http://www.chicagotribune.com/entertainment/music/turnitup/chi-wilco-album-review-the-whole-love-reviewed-20110921,0,2437627.column

 

 

Album review: Wilco, 'The Whole Love'

Greg Kot

 

Music critic

 

11:29 p.m. CDT, September 21, 2011

3 stars (out of 4)

After seven studio albums, capped by the summing-up statement “Wilco (The Album)” in 2009, the Chicago band seemed to be out of surprises. The music had soul and low-key integrity, but had turned predictable. So it’s gratifying to find that assumption shattered from the get-go on “The Whole Love,” the sextet's first album for its homemade label, dBpm.

Greg Kot

 

Opener “Art of Almost” is a seven-minute sound collage that plays with the listener’s expectations in a way that Wilco hasn’t since “A Ghost is Born” (2004).

The first sound on the album is the crackle of static over a fragmented beat. Keyboards shudder into the mix, and Tweedy sings from the middle of a parched landscape of strange sound effects: “I can’t be so far away from my wasteland.” Distorted chords suggest muffled gun shots. Percussion percolates and then glides into a steady electronic pulse as if out of a science-fiction soundtrack. It’s a movie playing out between the headphones, and then after four minutes the scene dramatically shifts. A guitar drones, then breaks into a sprint, racing alongside drums and a rollercoaster bass line to a thrilling finish.

“Art of Almost” is an exciting, if instantly divisive song, like “Misunderstood” or “Spiders (Kidsmoke)” from an earlier phase in Wilco’s career. There’s nothing else quite like it on the album, but it serves as a timely reminder that Wilco is still a long way from coasting into its middle years.

The uptempo “I Might” amplifies that impulse. John Stirratt’s overdriven bass rips through the speakers like a rusty saw, and Tweedy issues a threat over bright garage-rock organ chords: “You won’t set the kids on fire/But I might.”

“Sunloathe” sounds like the aftermath of a long night, the narrator too exhausted or too narcotized to do anything more than blink into a remorseless sun. His voice drifts in and out of a dream-like atmosphere of twinkling keyboards, disembodied guitars and wordless vocal harmonies. It’s a whirring slice of Beatles’ chamber pop, with Tweedy delivering a final kiss-off: “I don’t want to lose this fight/I don’t want to end this fight/Goodbye.”

After that bracing beginning, the middle of the album is more workmanlike: The autumnal folk of “Black Moon” and “Rising Red Lung,” the country ballad “Open Mind,” the jaunty vaudeville of “Capitol City,” the arena-rock chords of “Standing O.” It’s not exactly Wilco by numbers, but it feels tame in comparison to the first three tracks.

Yet, as a sheer sound experience, “The Whole Love” is rewarding, a tapestry of tiny details that invites close listening. On most of the songs, Tweedy indulges in lyrics that blur the line between nonsense and poetry, revelation and obfuscation. The words, it turns out, are really mostly about sound rather than sense. So it’s no surprise that he speaks through the band most clearly. As the album’s producer with keyboardist Patrick Sansone and engineer Tom Schick, Tweedy uses the band’s Northwest Side recording studio as another instrument to complement, enhance and distort the musicianship.

Stirratt, besides Tweedy the band’s sole constant since its inception in 1994, is an anchoring force, his bass playing consistently brilliant. The keyboards of Sansone and Mikael Jorgensen color in a wealth of detail, Glenn Kotche’s drumming adds orchestral flair, and Nels Cline gets a bit more room to roam on guitar.

It all comes together on the final song, “One Sunday Morning.” Over 12 patient minutes, Tweedy tells a tale of familial conflict, death and regret amid a cocoon of acoustic guitars and piano. It’s a poetic narrative that recalls Wilco’s take on Woody Guthrie’s “Remember the Mountain Bed.” The song winds down and then back up, a hypnotic pattern of decline and rejuvenation that mirrors life itself. It makes for a quietly stunning bookend to the opening track’s take-it-or-leave-it boldness.

 

[Albert Tatlock]

NZ Under the Radar 9 / 10

 

http://www.undertheradar.co.nz/utr/review/CID/559/N/The-Whole-Love.utr

 

Wilco - The Whole Love

The Whole Love

Wilco

ANTI

9 / 10

22nd September 2011 By Ivy Rossiter

Wilco carries their history with them. As each of their albums has opened doors on new territories to explore, the band has borne the battered suitcases of their past to open and unpack amongst the new surroundings of innovation and reinterpretation of their sound. Wilco’s new record The Whole Love triumphantly embodies both old and new; both revision and exploration; nostalgia and anticipation.

The album opens with the seven minute long epic “Art Of Almost”, treading entirely new ground with grooving, beeping synthesizers mating with a luscious string section making up the foundation for the instrumental. Tweedy’s vocal is the sole connection to any prior Wilco experience until a huge buildup and Nels Cline’s nearly 3 minute long solo takes over in a swathe of distortion and clapping, barking drums.

Wilco is in their element with singles “I Might” and “Born Alone”, pop songs with satisfying rotations of light and dark, acoustic and rock. The softer moments in “Black Moon” and “Open Mind” hearken to 2007’s Sky Blue Sky; “Capitol City” to Summerteeth; “Whole Love” to 2009’s sassy Wilco (The Album).

Unfortunately, there is one small blemish to one song on the album. I would be remiss to ignore “Dawned On Me”s undeniable homage/soundalike to Supergrass’s “Alright”. The song is catchy, a great danceable track, with an incredibly memorable hook - it’s just unfortunate that same hook teeters on the line between homage and carbon-paper territory.

Despite the similarity of “Dawned On Me” to its aforementioned British song-brother, I can’t help but love this album. This is a joyous record. The satisfaction and ease that permeates The Whole Love never lays back complacent, but instead exudes a sense of delight that feels well at home in it’s multifarious instrumental housing. Each track embodies something different and specific that I love about each period of their career. Wilco’s baggage anchors them, and their vision makes this album fly.

[craigwinn]

I think everyone is reading to much into the "you won't set the kids on fire" lyric. To me it's a dad rock reference about wilco's music not exciting the young kids and to that Tweedy responds " oh but I might.". Anyone else read it that way?

 

Agreed. This is rather obvious (though not totally). Why is everyone having so much trouble understanding this lyric?

[rjreda]

They'll give it a 4/5, like 95% of what they review.

 

That being said, AMG reviews (reviews, not scores) are generally spot on as far as I'm concerned.

 

I beg to differ, I've seen their scores range the gamut. Even with albums I enjoy getting 3/5 stars, I can understand their point once reading the review.

[choo-choo-charlie]

Being There is AllMusic's album of the day today on their homepage...

[Albert Tatlock]

Tone Audio

 

http://www.tonepublications.com/music/thewholelove/

 

Wilco: The Whole Love The Whole Love

 

Anti Records CD, 2 LP

 

Wilco’s The Whole Love begins with a crush of digital thunder. It’s the sound, perhaps, of computer-hard drives malfunctioning. Or maybe it’s the band imagining some sort of electronic warfare. The specifics aren’t quite discernable, but it’s gripping nonetheless. Don’t look to leader Jeff Tweedy for guidance, either. “I can be so far away from my wasteland…Ambulance,” he sings, an artist tortured by his own mind. Hi-tech warbles lead to a funky, effects-drenched bass, and plaintive vocals give way to an eruption of scorching guitars, instruments trailed by a rhythm so rushed it nearly runs itself over. Wilco calls this song—this exercise is in computer-enhanced rock n’ roll carnage—“Art of Almost,” and it sounds unlike anything the band has ever recorded.

 

Well done, Wilco, well done.

 

Not since the extended melodic deconstruction of “I Am Trying to Break Your Heart,” which heralds the beginning of 2001’s Yankee Hotel Foxtrot, has Wilco launched an album with an opening track this far out of the realm of listener expectations. Wilco, now in its 17^th year, long ago trained fans to anticipate the unexpected. Yet something happened on 2009’s Wilco (The Album). While there was no shortage of finely crafted songs, rock n’ roll comfort seemed to outnumber the surprises.

 

Rare was it that such sharp musicianship, such a competent knack for a melody, would feel so normal. Ever since the Chicago band unleashed 1996’s sophomore Being There, which jettisoned the backyard country of feel of the debut AM, for spacious roots-rock atmospheres, it felt as if a gauntlet was being thrown at the feet of its fans. No two albums, the Tweedy-led outfit seemed to be saying, would ever sound the same. And thus it was so.

 

Lineups changed, sometimes drastically, but the mission didn’t. There was gallantly harmonious orchestral pop (1999’s Summerteeth), exquisitely detailed art-rock minimalism (Yankee Hotel Foxtrot), aggressively claustrophobic guitars (2004’s A Ghost is Born), and soul-enhanced folk-rock (Sky Blue Sky). On Wilco (The Album), the band neatly, and confidently, touches on all of the above, with the sole exception being the panic-stricken “Bull Black Nova.”

 

The Whole Love, however, is full of the exceptions. Some, of course, are stronger than others. Sadly, the entire album doesn’t have the cut-and-paste intensity of “Art of Almost.” Yet there’s a studio-driven sheen that makes this, from start to finish, the freshest Wilco work since A Ghost is Born. Much credit must be given to multi-instrumentalist Pat Sansone, who Tweedy enlisted for a greater production role.

Sansone adorns many tracks with a symphonic lushness, and helps liven up even Wilco’s more traditional moments. Seesawing violins and drummer Glenn Kotche’s constantly in-motion clickity-clack rhythm add a softness to the starkness of “Black Moon,” while “Sunloath” tiptoes to a finale drenched in 60s psychedelics. “I don’t want to lose this fight,” Tweedy sings with his comforting rasp, and the chorus-less song rescues its lyricist in the final moments with swooning harmonies and crystallizing guitars, finishing with a kaleidoscope of instrumental colors.

 

Those who have seen Wilco live in recent years know that the current six-piece incarnation—the only Wilco lineup to have lasted for three full albums—has the ability to put on an expansive, blistering rock n’ roll show packed with highs and lows. The Whole Love seems to recognize such a feat, as often here, Tweedy is not the focal point. He’s brash and energized on “I Might,” sure, but that song belongs to bassist John Stirratt and keyboardist Mikael Jorgensen. Never has Wilco sounded this groovy, as Stirratt’s fuzzy bass leads the song with an R&B shimmy. Jorgensen, meanwhile, channels 60s rockers the Zombies and plays give-and-take with Tweedy.

 

Ace guitarist Nels Cline gets plenty of moments to roam, and turns the solitary sentiment of “Born Alone” into a statement of defiance. He also contrasts giant bar-band riffs with sleek, artsy fills on the delightfully reckless “Standing O.” “I mope and I cry and attack,” Tweedy sings on the latter, a moment that captures the emotional schizophrenia of much of the lyrics. “Capitol City,” for instance, seems like a giant mind-game. Musically, the old-fashioned jaunty pop stroll is Wilco at its silliest, while lyrically, it’s an embrace that tries to keep its distance. As Tweedy sings later on the album, “As intimate as a kiss over the phone.”

 

The “Art of Almost” creates nearly impossible expectations for Wilco’s eighth album, yet The Whole Love comes close to delivering on them. “Dawned on Me” may be a tad slight, and “Rising Red Lung” is all darkness amidst an album that’s spry and bright. Yet the record is a daring statement, even coming to a close with 12 minutes of acoustic exploration. “One Sunday Morning (Song for Jane Smiley’s Boyfriend)” unfolds with slight melodic tweaks and shading throughout, underscoring once again that Wilco, nearly 20 years into its career, still has plenty left to investigate.

 

–Todd Martens

 

 

 

Bowlegs 6 / 10

 

http://www.bowlegsmusic.com/2011/09/wilco-the-whole-love/

 

Wilco – The Whole Love

Posted on 22 September 2011 by Bowlegs

 

As the opening track, ‘Art of Almost’, breaks in with electronic glitches and Radiohead fervour; as the swelling strings fall and make way for Mr Tweedy; and as the song manages to balance beautiful experimentation with a hint of melancholy (the latter captured within a one word chorus) Bowlegs felt a most euphoric high; as if Wilco’s previous two albums had never really happened, and we had finally received the rightful heir to ‘A Ghost is Born’.

 

So when the acoustic strums and the Doors-like organs appear within the speedy stomper ‘I might’, it was a euphoric comedown. Tweedy may be in a feisty mood, talking about “pissing blood”, and the electric guitars may squeal intermittently, but that aside, this is middle-row Wilco. You know the Wilco we’re talking about, the one where the musicians are so adept at their job, they squeeze the life out of every instrument they touch. Their perfect, precise and controlled delivery is even apparent on those frenzied and out-of-control elements that are suppose to add some edge to it all.

With that all said, there are some fine moments here, lifting it above ‘Wilco (The Album)’ by some distance. ‘Black Moon’ is reminiscent of a solo-Tweedy effort, that stumbles into beauty via picking guitars and warm brushes of pedal-steel: and the twelve minute, drum-brushing ballad, ‘One Sunday Morning’, pushes Tweedy’s vocal up against the mic for an intimate performance, which actually does make all the difference.

 

The shuffling ‘Capitol City’ is an unnecessary inclusion; we’ll leave it there on that one. ‘Born Alone’ is more typically modern day Wilco, offering little melody (steady beats, breezy tune and guitar breakouts) while ‘It Dawned On Me’ is more of the same. Imagine these songs without Tweedy, and there isn’t much to imagine.

 

As the enigmatic front man softly delivers the line: “I would like to be the one to open up your mind”, there’s a sense that he may need to make a few dramatic choices, if he’s to have any chance of doing that.

 

-Johnny Newsom-

[bleedorange]

I think Kot's review has been the most accurate so far. At least, accurate in the sense that it lines up perfectly with my sentiments.

 

The only song I'm having trouble embracing so far is "Open Mind."

[bleedorange]

They'll give it a 4/5, like 95% of what they review.

 

That being said, AMG reviews (reviews, not scores) are generally spot on as far as I'm concerned.

 

I was just looking at AMG, and since giving 5 stars to Summerteeth, every album since then has gotten 4 stars.

[MountainGerbil]

 

Bowlegs 6 / 10

 

http://www.bowlegsmu...the-whole-love/

 

"Be more like Radiohead! Put out "Yankee Hotel Foxtrot" again!"

[choo-choo-charlie]

I think Kot's review has been the most accurate so far. At least, accurate in the sense that it lines up perfectly with my sentiments.

 

The only song I'm having trouble embracing so far is "Open Mind."

 

I think it fits perfectly in the sequence after the huge, swelling outro of "Born Alone." Like a breath of fresh air, a chance to switch tempos for a bit (with "Capitol City" following) before the rock of "Standing O."

[bleedorange]

 

I think it fits perfectly in the sequence after the huge, swelling outro of "Born Alone." Like a breath of fresh air, a chance to switch tempos for a bit (with "Capitol City" following) before the rock of "Standing O."

 

I think my main problem is the fact that it sounds like it belongs on Sky Blue Sky instead of this album. Lyrically and musically.

[choo-choo-charlie]

 

I think my main problem is the fact that it sounds like it belongs on Sky Blue Sky instead of this album. Lyrically and musically.

 

Well, that may be. But I liked most of SBS, so I don't mind it. We'll agree to disagree!

 

[Albert Tatlock]

L.A. Times

 

http://latimesblogs.latimes.com/music_blog/2011/09/album-review-wilcos-the-whole-love.html

 

Album review: Wilco's 'The Whole Love'

 

September 22, 2011 | 11:01 am

 

 

Wilco in 2011 finds all six members reaching out into new directions, but the result is a strong and cohesive 12-song effort that recalls ‘Summerteeth' and ‘Yankee Hotel Foxtrot.'

 

It feels a little funny starting a review of Wilco's new album “The Whole Love” with an ode to a drummer, but then Glenn Kotche is no ordinary drummer. Plus, his weird snare-and-bass-kick beat opens the Chicago band's eighth studio album and is the first indicator that Wilco is headed toward yet another heretofore unexplored realm.

The song, called “Art of Almost,” is more than seven minutes long and begins with Kotche introducing an urgent but oblong rhythm, one that takes a few go-rounds to click as a pattern. Once it does, the percussionist, who spent his early years working in Chicago's experimental underground community and whose underrated Nonesuch Records solo album “Mobile” connects many of the legendary label's various strands, drives the next 60 seconds as droplets of synthetic notes gradually introduce a kinda-sorta melody before the whole thing drifts into a fog of strings that sounds like that moment in “A Day in the Life,” except prettier.

It'd be easy to spend the rest of this review, in fact, writing about Kotche's work on “The Whole Love,” how later in that same song he strips away everything except a metronomic, nail-driving snare snap, which propels a wild Nels Cline guitar solo that extends for the final two minutes.

Story: Wilco is maturing, but it is not growing soft

But then each of the five other men who constitute Wilco in 2011 pushes himself in new directions: Jeff Tweedy, bassist John Stirratt, Cline, multi-instrumentalist Pat Sansone and keyboardist Mikael Jorgensen. Tweedy, the band's founder, singer and songwriter, solidified this lineup in 2007, and he sure knows how to pick 'em. The result on “The Whole Love” is a work by a group of exceptional musicians who, four years into their collaboration, have melded into one.

Over the band's 17-year career, Tweedy's Wilco has gradually moved from a roots-rock band to something a bit more nebulous, as though the bandleader were with each album further distancing himself from his whiskey bottle and Levis past.

That process began long ago with the sophomore double album “Being There,” and was further cemented on the band's first great departure, “Summerteeth” from 1999, a guitar-pop gem with nary a hint of twang or blues. Wilco's 2002 album, “Yankee Hotel Foxtrot,” remains its most adventurous and acclaimed; more recent albums such as “Sky Blue Sky” — the first featuring the band's current lineup — and its last album, “Wilco (The Album),” saw the group step back a little into more traditional, sing-song structures.

Not so “The Whole Love,” a 12-song effort that's way more “Summerteeth” and “Yankee Hotel Foxtrot” than more recent efforts: The band is having fun not only with sound but with structure, without sacrificing catchiness. Nearly every song contains some tangential surprise, odd hook, sonic back flip or midsong redefinition. The first single, “I Might,” sounds like ? and the Mysterians covering Radiohead and is the closest thing to a simple rock song on the record (rivaled by “Dawned on Me,” which suggests Electric Light Orchestra). “Sunloathe” is a surreal, psychedelic piano ballad carried forward by Kotche's miscellaneous noise and layers of intricate countermelodies. “Standing O” sounds stolen from Elvis Costello's “This Year's Model.”

Wilco's Achilles' heel has always been Tweedy's voice. His singing lives in the midrange; he has trouble going too high — he's never done falsetto — and can't hit Johnny Cash notes without a pack of cigarettes and an early-morning vocal session. Though Tweedy sings all the songs, he's not a supercharged Mick Jagger or Thom Yorke presence; he's more George Harrison than John Lennon. And his lyrics, while evocative, are occasionally too rocky, wordy or unfocused, and mine his thematic obsession with enduring — and unenduring — love, offering little personal snapshots that he attempts to draw universal circles around.

But there's so much going on within “The Whole Love,” so many well-oiled parts driving each song, that the occasional blown cylinder is barely noticeable and is nearly eclipsed by the gorgeous, epic 12-minute closer, “One Sunday Morning (For Jane Smiley's Boyfriend),” which transforms a curlicue guitar line, Stirratt's stealthily engaging bass lines and Jorgensen's confident, free-form piano improvisations into a mesmerizing whole. As the song fades, one sound remains: Kotche's high-hat rhythm. It fades to black as the album closes, but it's probably still echoing quietly somewhere up in outer space.

[bleedorange]

L.A. Times

 

http://latimesblogs....whole-love.html

 

So the worst thing about Wilco is Jeff Tweedy? Interesting.

[choo-choo-charlie]

 

So the worst thing about Wilco is Jeff Tweedy? Interesting.

 

No kidding! That made me laugh.

 

Also -- in many of the reviews that have been posted here, "aggressively claustrophobic guitars" seems to be the hot phrase for describing A Ghost is Born. I suppose there are only so many words and phrases that can be cooked up to identify Wilco music.

[theashtraysays]

— he's never done falsetto —

 

Did I miss something, or is Whole Love not full of falsetto?

[Hoodoo Man]

 

So the worst thing about Wilco is Jeff Tweedy? Interesting.

 

Yeah, I'm glad I've been set straight on that point. I've foolishly believed I enjoyed both his voice and lyrics for years. I know better now.

[Scott Gyrrr]

Do any of the reviews or interviews give insight into the name of the album? I guess I could read them but you know...

 

Also which Bob Dylan song does I Might most sound like? I heard this one on the radio a month baago that was the same sort of tempo and keyboard sound. Hadn't heard it before. Sound like it might have been from the seventies.