Saying Goodbye to the Unnamed Decade.

Well, New Years Eve. It’s so nice to see you again. How long has it been?

Every New Year, bloggers, hipsters and music critics climb out of their holes to post year-end lists. Best Albums. Best Songs. Best Debuts. This year is no exception–only multiply the activity by 10, as we’ve reached the end of a decade: The, uh.. um.. well, no one’s really quite sure–except for this guy. While no one’s rushing to name the decade, everyone’s rushing to define it. So as we wish the 00′s goodbye (the decade, clearly not our 00 skinny jeans, we are hipsters, after all), it’s finally time for every music site, magazine, critic and aficionado to take a stand on the best albums of the decade.

As for me, I’m far too apathetic to actually compile a list. And I’m far too biased to make it sound like I’m being objective. So here it is, the album that defined my decade (and thus should define yours, too):

Paul A. Ab-Dul’s Entirely Biased Opinion on the Best Album of the Unnamed Decade:

Yankee Hotel Foxtrot - Wilco, 2002 (leaked 2001)

Everyone’s heard it: The myth. The lure. The drama. A musical David versus Goliath. The break with Reprise Records. The internet sensation. The final release on Nonesuch Records. But even behind the media hype, Yankee Hotel Foxtrot is an album good enough to stand on its own musically and lyrically.

The masterpiece is branded Wilco’s most “experimental” album. At times, sonic soundscapes, and occasionally full-on walls of noise, disguise the songs underneath. It rewards multiple listens, after which the melodies begin to reveal themselves under the masterfully created cacophonies that complement them perfectly. Underneath it’s jagged edges and fragments, Yankee Hotel Foxtrot is actually very simple; it’s beautiful and at times vulnerable, exploring a great range of emotional depth: the regret of “I Am Trying to Break Your Heart,” the nostalgia of “Heavy Metal Drummer,” the self-assuredness of “I’m the Man Who Loves You,” the longing of “Ashes of American Flags.” Some of Tweedy’s best songwriting coheres the album lyrically. Although the album was written and recorded before September 11th, it eerily invokes the spirit of post-9/11 America. It’s difficult to divorce the imagery of songs like Jesus, Etc. and Ashes of American Flags from the immediate context of its release, though unintended.

Jeff Tweedy himself sums up the spirit of Yankee Hotel Foxtrot best in Greg Kot’s Wilco: Learning How to Die:
“I started writing from the viewpoint of America as this imagined space, the America that exists in everyone. There is nothing more abstract to me than the idea of a country. These solitudes exist so apart from each other in the sea of white noise and information. And the beautiful thing is they keep transmitting to each other in the hope that somebody is going to find them. And the beauty is that people still do, still find some meaning in another person, in a relationship, find some way to communicate, even though more often than not it’s in a way that’s not what they intended. Because some communication is better than giving up or not communicating at all.”

Yankee Hotel Foxtrot is shaken, but slightly hopeful; a little lost, but reaching out to find meaning and comfort in things–not the least of which is in each other. Between the fragments of noise, Tweedy’s voice and images capture a universal zeitgeist of this past decade.

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Though I value my opinion over all others, I’d like to extend this question to everyone*: what album defined your decade? I’m interested to know. Maybe when Bobcat gets her shit together, she’ll grace us with a post on her pick, too.

Until then, I wish all you hipsters a safe and happy New Year.
See you in the.. ’10s?

*everyone but the staff writers of Pitchfork.

I Wasn’t Trying To Break Your Heart

Dear Hipsters,

I’m sorry it’s been so long since I’ve last written. I swear I wasn’t trying to break your heart; these things just happen sometimes. Things change. People move away. Personally, I’ve just been busy kicking television and foxtrotting–you know, Dixie Cup drinkin’ and assassining down the avenues. Besides, it’s been a long, hot summer. And we all know that when it’s hot in the poor places at night, I’m not going outside.

The good news is that I’m back, and I won’t leave you again (at least for the forseeable future). I also got you something. For those of you who secretly love Wilco, but publicly disdain their critical acclaim, mainstream appeal, and increasing Dad-rock status–this is for you. I give you some bands that are Wilco without being Wilco. Let’s go through them one by one, shall we?

Loose Fur is a band of the men who basically brought you Yankee Hotel Foxtrot. This side project, made up of Wilco frontman Jeff Tweedy, drummer Glenn Kotche and YHF mixer Jim O’Rourke, has released two albums since 2003. The first is the self-titled Loose Fur. My favorites from the six-track album are “Laminated Cat” and “Chinese Apple.” “Laminated Cat“ is a re-working of a song written for Yankee Hotel Foxtrot, but left off the album, called “Not For the Season.” This vibey, drum-driven number about the shifting seasons suits Tweedy and Kotche well. You can check it (and Jeff Tweedy‘s standup-worthy banter) here:

“Chinese Apple” will be somewhat familiar to Yankee Hotel Foxtrot aficionados. Part of Tweedy’s initially semi-improvised lyrics in this low-key folk tune assimilated their way into the very dissimilar “Heavy Metal Drummer.” Over the finger-picked guitars, soft percussion and distant organs, Tweedy sings “Unlock my body and move myself at last / in the warm liquid, flowing glowing glass / Classical music, blasting masks are ringing in my ears.” Hear (most of) it here, accompanied by adorable cartoon animals:

On Loose Fur‘s newest release, Born Again in the USA, comes the infectiously catchy “The Ruling Class,” a song best suited to those not politically correct or only ironically homeboys with Jesus. Tweedy spins the tale of the second coming of Christ in modern day America over jangly steel guitars and a whistling line sure to get stuck in your head for days on end.

Also available on Born Again in the USA (but sadly nowhere I could find on Youtube or elsewhere on the interwebs) is “Answers to Your Questions,” a highly-relatable, melancholy folk tune about a slightly-bitter ex-lover who doesn’t want to write you back. Jim O’Rourke‘s low, clear vocals plod along with the bass atop Tweedy‘s buoyant acoustic guitar. It’s a shame I can’t find it–guess you’ll have to buy the album.

Let’s move on to the next one, pronto. Pronto is a side project with Wilco keyboardist Mikael Jorgensen. I can’t claim to know much about this New York-based group, other than that I like what I hear. I also like Jorgensen‘s glasses. Anyway, they’ve released two discs, All Is Golden and (very recently) The Cheetah, filled with catchy tunes, many of which (but not all) sound like pop-rock throw-backs to the 70s, all signed with Jorgensen‘s signature key-tickling. Here’s a taste of one of my favorites, the sunshiney “When I’m On the Rocks:”

Another non-Wilco Wilco group is made up of Wilco multi-instrumentalist Pat Sansone and long-time Uncle Tupelo/Wilco bassist, John Stirratt. Both are highly talented musicians, singers and song-writers, so the combination naturally results in a great melodic soft folk-rock duo, The Autumn Defense. The group cites musical influences of Cat Stevens, Nick Drake and Simon & Garfunkle–take a listen, and it’s not difficult to hear where these influences come in.

Well, hipsters, this is the end. I can’t tell if this brings my heart the way I wanted when I started writing this blog to you. But it will have to do. I’ll write again soon. I’ll write you a box full of letters.

Sincerely,
the man who loves you,

Paul A. Ab-Dul

For more on:
Loose Fur – http://www.dragcity.com/artists/loose-fur
Pronto – http://www.myspace.com/prontonyc | http://www.facebook.com/Prontosphere | http://prontosphere.com/
The Autumn Defense – http://www.myspace.com/theautumndefense | http://www.theautumndefense.com/

For other Wilco side projects:
Nels Cline: http://www.myspace.com/nelscline
Pat Sansone: http://www.myspace.com/birdyonthemoon
Glenn Kotche: http://www.myspace.com/onfillmore | http://www.myspace.com/glennkotche
Jeff Tweedy: http://www.goldensmog.com/

For the Love of Bob

Everyone’s doing covers these days. Most of the time I cringe visibly, sometimes at the forced, imitated inflections of voice, sometimes at the lack of originality, sometimes at the overexertion of artistic license, but often because I will never again be able to listen to a song I once enjoyed without a terrible rip-off of it echoing in the back of my mind. A copy of the I’m Not There soundtrack recently made its way into my hands, begging a listen or two, although I am usually wary of Dylan covers. I liked it well enough, generally; it had its gems and its duds for me–but that’s not important, although I always find my own musical opinion important. The point is, it made me think about covers–and Bob Dylan covers specifically. And for the love of Bob, I felt the need to discuss my favorite Dylan covers with all of you.

#4. Lay Lady Lay – Magnet & Gemma Hayes

Although it’s something I would likely do, don’t discount this cover because it appears on the Mr. and Mrs. Smith soundtrack. It’s good. Naturally, it’s more produced than Dylan’s version, featuring strings and horns and whatnot, but it’s not totally dissimilar (or beyond recognition like uh.. Ministry’s version of this song, for instance). Magnet’s take on it was original enough to be memorable, though, turning it into a sultry duet, rather than one man’s attempted smooth operating in order to peel some panties. As beautifully as Dylan can pull that off, this version’s worth a listen. You can find it and some other nice little Norwegian Magnet tunes at his myspace.

#3. Ring Them Bells – Sufjan Stevens

I’m hesitant to say too much about this one because the song pretty much speaks for itself. It’s one of those absolutely delightfully whimsical track you’d expect from Sufjan Stevens. Tempo changes, sweet harmonies, a wide range of instruments, dynamics, dramatics, etc.–all the hallmarks of Sufjan. He made “Ring Them Bells” his own, but not in the way that makes me die on the inside while listening to it. Give it a listen at the I’m Not There Soundtrack myspace.

#2. Simple Twist of Fate – Jeff Tweedy

This song is one of the covers to appear on I’m Not There. I was less worried about Jeff Tweedy’s take on the song (I like both him and Wilco very much) and more worried about any cover of this song in general, it being my favorite song on Blood On the Tracks and all. However, I should have had more faith in Tweedy; his rendition of this song makes it difficult for me to place it at #2, as it would be worthy of #1, if not for the fact that I’m thoroughly enamored with #1 and have been long enough for it to reach 367 plays on iTunes. Tweedy not only does the song justice, but, if I may be so bold as to suggest such a thing, makes an even more poignant and beautiful version than Dylan. Excuse me for my heresy. Vocally, he does mimic Dylan somewhat, but he brings a different sort of tone to the song. He also replaces the harmonica, which (excuse the heresy again) I always found nice but a little out of place in this song, for violin. I believe you can only find this version on the I’m Not There soundtrack, but you can listen to it, along with three of my other favorites from the soundtrack, online here.

#1. Oh Sister – Andrew Bird

I will say this confidently without apologizing for the heresy: this version simply outdoes Dylan’s. Those who know me know my undying love for Chicago-based multi-instrumentalist and whistler extraordinaire Andrew Bird–and hear of it far too often, I’m sure. I love his voice and his whistling and his violin playing and all of them are beautifully on display here, complemented by the lovely harmonies of Nora O’Connor, whose voice may have been made just for singing with Bird. To put it into terms that all you math nerds out there can understand, this song comes seriously close to that elusive asymptote of musical perfection. It also features one of the most beautiful instrumental sections I’ve ever heard starting around 3 minutes and 40 seconds in. It’s the best of Bob and Bird and it’s brilliant. I command you to listen to it immediately at Andrew Bird’s myspace or on the new Soldier On EP; then I command you go out and get your hands on Andrew Bird’s entire catalogue, because he’s just that mind-blowingly incredible.

Feel free to leave your favorite Dylan covers in the comments; I’m always open to musical suggestions–but make sure they’re good, otherwise I will judge you.