""I am so / I am so / Out of tune,"" Jeff Tweedy sang at a solo acoustic set he performed as a rogue while recording Yankee Hotel Foxtrot, simultaneously turning it into a lamentation of personal, professional uncertainty. Overall, its directness is so mysterious, ambiguous and genuine it discomforts and reassures at the same time. Despairingly crying out in self-awareness, Tweedy emotes a candidness that only a Ditch Trilogy-era Neil Young would be bold enough to pull off, calmly finishing the stanza, ""With you.""
This is what makes Wilco more than just another of the 2000s' melodically driven adult-contemporary bands: They avoid clichés and conventions as their intensely introverted nature lends dissonance and ambiguity in hard times, and relaxed solemnity in easier ones. Yankee Hotel Foxtrot connects disjointed organic melodies with desperation and anxiety to succeed. A more curious mystery of the unknown rests on a newfound, sturdier base for A Ghost is Born. The about-face comes lined with confidently relaxed, yet still ambiguously pastiche lyrics on the country-inflected Sky Blue Sky. And as the group's comfort and stability in the industry has increased, so has the fundamental foundations of their music. On Wilco (the album), their introverted, meandering insecurities disappear almost completely, leaving nothing but Tweedy and the guys casually playing with melodies and form.
They are becoming more traditional and predictable with their newfound comfort, but you can't deny their abilities as songwriters nor the breath of fresh, creative air they brought music this decade when bubble-gum pop really began flexing its muscle.
The documentary ""I Am Trying to Break Your Heart"" tracks that breath of fresh air as the band records YHF, displaying the tensions between rock-star aspirations and artistic integrity that would come to define the decade's dichotomy between commercial and critical success. The unofficial online release of YHF also unknowingly foreshadowed modern distribution strategies.
Yet as representative as the album and documentary are of the '00s, the DVD most overtly displays the group's musicianship. With performances of most of the songs from YHF (and some from older albums), the band stretches each song every which way. Witnessing them try out each melody with an assortment of outfits before finally deciding on the appropriate attire makes the album's cohesion that much more impressive and imperative.
This allows each album to be a distinct and self-contained representation of a chapter in the group's existence.
Wilco is something of an autobiographical journey of Tweedy himself. As the group's enigmatic and eccentric leader, the music serves as his emotional outlet with melodies fleshed out by his personal cast of musicians. If Tweedy is the face and mind behind the music, he outfits himself with a fitting body of artists around him to control his actions while he pours his soul through the speakers.
This allows each album to carry its own personality. Yankee Hotel Foxtrot is intimate, raw, affecting, melancholy and tense. So many traits can be thrown at it, yet it's a sense of desperation serving as the emotive vehicle on YHF, a direct reflection of the group's uncertainty at the time. Progressing from there, the group has become more controlled and fundamental in its sound, leading to a traditional style seemingly reflective of Tweedy's increasing comfort and maturity in the industry. Yet by no means has the group's integrity wavered, as the songwriting and musicianship remains as sturdy as ever. It's simply no longer encoded in deeply emotional abstractions.
The music remains a constant lifeline behind their tumultuous existence. They are musicians just looking for anywhere to play and anyone who will listen. In a time when commercial music was becoming Disney-dominated, musical artists needed a group like Wilco to not give a shit about what labels or critics thought about their music—a Young-esque mentality that would help inspire a decade's worth of e-publicized artists to make music for the pure cathartic sake of making music.
