Wilco's Jeff Tweedy performs at the UIC Pavilion Sunday. (Tribune photo by Andrew A. Nelles)
Surveying a near-capacity audience Sunday in the first of two concerts at the UIC Pavilion, Wilco’s Jeff Tweedy responded to his band’s newfound arena status with self-mocking humor.
“We got more lights, we got a gong,” he said. Then he let the crowd sing most of the next song, “Jesus, Etc.” – an arena-rock gesture that Bon Jovi surely would’ve appreciated.
It’s been a long, steady, 15-year climb for the Chicago sextet. With the exception of the aforementioned lights, the concert was notable for its modesty and restraint. Even Glenn Kotche’s gong went untouched until nearly two hours into the show. The band played 28 songs, performing particularly precise versions of those from its two most recent albums,
“Sky Blue Sky” (2007) and
“Wilco (The Album).” The latter is more like a career survey of musical styles than a ground-breaker, and the concert followed that format: a solid overview that took few chances.
There was the loping Little Feat-like amiability of “Walken,” the tense guitar rhythms of “Bull Black Nova,” the cathartic surge of “Misunderstood,” the plaintive twang of “It’s Just that Simple” (with a rare lead vocal by bassist John Stirratt), the triple-guitar rave-up of “Handshake Drugs,” and the soul cries of “Theologians.”
The band has evolved into something of a mini-orchestra, with keyboardists Mikael Jorgensen and Pat Sansone coloring in the gaps between Tweedy’s vocals, Stirratt playing graceful bass lines that straddled melody and rhythm, and Kotche a whirlwind of constant invention on drums. Amid this glut of talent, guitarist Nels Cline was easily the band’s most watchable stage personality, his lean frame further exaggerated by high-water pants. Cline’s tasteful guitar parts frequently morphed into corrosive explosions that provided the show’s most striking moments, especially during the somewhat conservative main set.
Jorgensen had the best seat in the house, directly behind Cline. When the guitarist went off on “A Shot in the Arm,” wrenching feedback from his amplifier, Jorgensen joined in on the fun, wiping what looked like a dish rag violently across his keyboard to match Cline’s sonic mayhem.
As the show progressed, the band allowed more chaos and spontaneity to creep in, and a shaggy and highly appealing looseness prevailed during the show’s last half-hour. That’s been the arch of most
Wilco shows for the last couple of years, and one wishes that let-it-all-hang-out attitude would show up a little earlier. During the extended encore, Tweedy and the band played with smiles – how else to pay tribute to everyone’s favorite sea sponge, SpongeBob SquarePants, on “Just a Kid”? As Cline and Sansone traded mad solos on “Hoodoo Voodoo,” they embraced their inner Jack Black by raising their guitar picks on high. There were no more gong hits, but Jorgensen supplied the next best percussion option for such a wonderfully over-the-top arena-rock moment: more cowbell.
greg@gregkot.com
Editor's Note: Greg Kot is the author of the 2004 unauthorized biography, “Wilco: Learning How
to Die.”
Check out Wilco's set list from Sunday night's show here.
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