"I don't think people know very many double
records," says the croaky-voiced Jeff Tweedy when asked what he thinks
about Wilco's new double CD being compared by many a critic to the
Rolling Stones' Exile On Main Street. "Why isn't Frampton Comes Alive mentioned? Or The Wall? I think it has more in
common with The Wall." True, there are dozens of double
albums available for such analysis. But at the same time, when a double
album like Being There comes around-- one that is all rickety and
riffy, sprawling and more ambitious than anything Tweedy has ever
attempted -- thoughts of Exile are not much of a stretch. Tweedy
surely recognizes this, and his rejection of such a concept is
half-hearted at best. After all, it could be worse than to have a record
compared to one of the most adventurous efforts by one of the greatest
rock bands in history, you know?
In the meantime, though, many among
Tweedy's rabid fan base are crying foul for their own reasons. As much
as the Stones lurk in Wilco's second record, so do the Beach Boys, Big Star, the Kinks and the Replacements. We're talking piano, pop hooks and
fits of thrashy din, a polar opposite to the motives for Tweedy's rock
'n' roll deification. His torch is supposed to burn in the name of the
post-punk country rock that he and Son Volt's Jay Farrar molded over
four albums as Uncle Tupelo, a band that lives larger in retrospect than
it ever did when it actually existed. Today, there is a ground swell of
bands that cite UT as an influence and a national fanzine (No Depression) that takes its name from the Carter Family song for
which UT's first album was named. ("If it was devoted to the Carter
Family I'd feel more comfortable with it," he says.) So when Wilco gets
Sonic Youth-like for a spell on the album-opener, "Misunderstood," or
carves out a song like "Outta Mind (Outta Sight)," which sounds more
like the theme to Sesame Street than anything country-rock
godfather Gram Parsons ever recorded, it's like brown acid to a
twang-fixated Tupelo-head.
Tweedy's quick to defend the 19 new shots of rock
'n' roll from Wilco, whose lineup includes the final UT rhythm section
of John Stirratt and Ken Coomer, multi-instrumentalist Bob Egan and
guitarist/keyboardist Jay Bennett, the latter possessing an art-pop
sensibility whose imprint is substantial on Being There. "I don't
think Being There is as country-based as some of our older
material, but at the same time I also think it probably has more pure
country inspiration than [Wilco's 1995 debut] A.M. did," he
says." A.M. was like pop songs with dobro. This one actually has
some songs that I think are more traditional chord progressions." Plus,
as a child of the '70s, it should be no shock that such sounds on
Being There have surfaced. How could he not play a Keith
Richards riff? Besides, this is the guy who once recorded a homage to D.
Boon, the late lead singer of the totally genre-bent '80s critical fave
the Minutemen. In other words, Tweedy already warned the world that
rules were made to be broken.
If it is any consolation to the
brokenhearted, Tweedy's heart still lies with the rural sounds. Take
"Satan, Your Kingdom Must Come Down," a traditional folk song that Uncle
Tupelo once covered. Says Tweedy: "That's more intense than Black Flag.
There's something more real and scary about it. As real as punk rock is,
it's still performance. A lot of those [traditional] recordings are
field recordings. Those people didn't even know what they sounded like.
They weren't doing it for any other reason than to feel better or to
express something." But the real question is, making a record that
echoes vintage Stones or Beach Boys can't be too painful to the ears,
can it? Besides, imagine if he was serious about The Wall" having
been his influence? Maybe have a bunch of British school children
singing some choruses a la "Another Brick in the Wall." Now that
would be reason to cry foul.