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Sky Blue Sky | Wilco
Nonesuch | 15th May

Review by Thomas Mendelovits

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Nonesuch Records
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Sounds like … the world’s most sophisticated band of Americana coming to terms with their own greatness and perhaps, middle-age.

I’m not sure if Jeff Tweedy was joking at Wilco’s recent Palais show when he referred to ‘Heavy Metal Drummer’ from 2002’s Yankee Hotel Foxtrot as “our hit-song that you couldn’t go anywhere without hearing that summer”, but sadly, this newest record from one of pop’s most (un-)catchy institutions won’t bring them any instant financial riches.

Like many artists’ later releases, Sky Blue Sky sees Tweedy and the band moving into more reflective, even subdued, territory. The album follows some of the tendencies found on 2004’s A Ghost is Born, with soft-folk, soft-rock moments of post-punk. And much like that release, Sky Blue Sky rewards repeated plays, the melodies and lyrics worming their way deeper with every listen.

I have a theory that with each Wilco release their sound becomes more definitely their own just as it becomes more clearly indefinable. While Being There (1996), Summerteeth (1999) and even Yankee Hotel Foxtrot (2002) are unashamed pop, and A Ghost is Born more experimental, Wilco’s latest effort is restrained and on first listen can even seem deliberately obfuscating.

Many of the lyrics deal with Tweedy’s return to health, newfound optimism and apparent reflections on married life, while musically the album moves through plaintive country-folk steel, slide and twelve-string guitars and organs to more robust rock-outs and even Thin Lizzy-like duelling guitar lines. While closer ‘On and On and On’ could be described as a tepid rehash of earlier ideas (in this case Yankee Hotel Foxtrot’s ‘Reservations’), its minimalist piano refrain, like much of the album, is utterly compelling in its own intrinsic and unique way.

8 out of 10

Wilco | The Palais | April 18th-19th
Review by Thomas Mendelovits


Anything your favourite band can do, Wilco can do better. Well, almost… but death metal, hip-hop, and punk are lame anyway.

Over two nights at the Palais, lovers of ‘alt.country’ (or judging by the audience demographic, ‘contemporary adult indie’) were enthralled as songwriter-in-chief Jeff Tweedy sang his by turns earnest, sweet, and cheeky, lovelorn ballads aided by his famously accomplished band of five; including free-jazzguitarist Nels Cline and Glenn Kotche, a drummer who has released solo experimental records of his own. Clocking in at over two and a half hours with numerous encores, the Wilco experience was so awesome for this reviewer and evidently many others who snapped up the half-price offer for Wednesday ticket-stub holders and went again for the Thursday show.

The attention to detail shown over Wilco’s last three studio albums (Yankee Hotel Foxtrot, A Ghost is Born, and the yet to be released, though internet-leaked Sky Blue Sky) was equally matched by their live show, with each member adding their own poetic touch and constantly surprising even those fans who know every song note for note. Indeed, during a couple of songs, the whole band looked shocked by some unexpected deft work from Kotche, while the seemingly endless tones coming out of Cline’s guitar plus effects board (he seemed to control the entire mix at times) were a constant delight. The addition of Cline after Yankee Hotel Foxtrot was destined to pad out their live sound, but Tweedy showed himself a most fine player too, and the beautifully jagged lines on ‘At Least That’s What You Said’, which I thought heralded Cline’s coming on A Ghost is Born, turned out to be Tweedy’s doing.


To make such complex pop music takes a lot of work, but the members of Wilco must love music so much that it seems more like play. Just watch I am trying to break your heart, Sam Jones’ documentary about the process of recording Yankee Hotel Foxtrot. Jeff Tweedy’s jest: “we’ll bring it to you sitting down or standing up. We don’t even need an audience, we’re like this when we go home to practice alone”, repeated over both nights after some of the more excitable audience members tried to instigate a general rise from seats, does not seem in jest at all when you witness Tweedy and ex-member Jay Bennett’s ecstatic reaction to a single keyboard note while they listen to a playback in the documentary.

To my mind, there’s nothing like seeing a band you love charm the socks off the entire audience in witty repartee, and indeed it was great to see Jeff Tweedy prove he is not so self-serious as some of his lyrics may suggest. He answered almost every heckler and brought the house down on a number of occasions. A call for “A.M.!” (their first album) was answered with: “A.M.? You still listen to A.M. here? You think we’re so quaint, going to bed with transistor radios under our pillows, listening to the ball game”. (The request was granted, however, the band played one song from the 1995 album). On the Thursday, Tweedy came out strumming the intro to ‘Hesitating Beauty’ but after numerous requests started an impromptu ‘Reservations’. Seeming to be swayed by a plea from a woman in the front row (“C’mon Jeff, it’s romantic”) the heartbreaking simplicity of the song was only augmented by the band.

A close tie for most magical moment came with the ridiculously perfectly structured ‘A Shot in the Arm’, which hurtles on and on with the bare minimum of chords, seeming to go nowhere but yet constantly changing. The barometer for ‘most magical moment’ in this case proved accurate with a high proportion of audience members losing their shit to this number. The crowd fell dead silent during the final encore on Wednesday, when Tweedy, alone and unplugged, stood on the lip of the stage and sung an old song from his Uncle Tupelo back-catalogue. By now, the rapport generated couldn’t have been any higher, or the applause any louder, and it seemed both band and crowd left positively beaming.

The Best Damn Thing | Avril Lavigne
RCA NY | April 17th

Review by Mabel Kwong

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RCA Records
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Sounds like … Sum 41 and Blink 182, with a female lead vocalist.

Avril Lavige’s third album The Best Damn Thing is a collection of songs that sound like they were meant to be played live, and played loud. Lukasz Gottwald (Kelly Clarkson’s Since U Been Gone) produced the bulk of the songs here, and the album is emphatically upbeat and fast-paced.

The opening track and first single Girlfriend sets the tone for the rest of the album. Upbeat, sing-a-long and clappy, the track even features a cheerleader chorus - ‘Hey, hey, you, you’, a theme Avril revisits throughout the album. I Can Do Better has more ‘Hey heys’ and ends up sounding all too similar to Girlfriend. Likewise Everything Back But You and the title track. The other fast-tempo songs sound rather alike too, all laden with prominent drum beats and guitar riffs. Hot and One of Those Guys must have been separated at birth, their guitar riffs are so similar.

When You’re Gone and Innocence are the lone ballads. The former builds up nicely to a crescendo climax. The latter stands out more with splendid piano work and heartfelt lyrics. Speaking of lyrics, the album reeks of attitude ‘I wanna scream and lose control’ from mid-tempo Runaway and ‘I wear the pants!’ off I Don’t Have To Try. Avril lets angst rip with ‘Damn this guy’ in Contagious.

Overall, the songs sound too much alike for the album to bear repeated listens. The crash of drums and wild guitar playing serve as the basis for this, so it’s unsurprising that the ballads offer some relief. The last track, Keep Holding On from the movie Eragon, is the sore-thumb on the album, being a pop ballad. That said, it’s still comfortably The Best Damn Thing on the album.

6 out of 10

SideA/SideB

Cassadaga | Bright Eyes
Saddle Creek | April 10th

Reviews by Tom Fairman & Jigantor

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Saddle Creek Records
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In this regular feature, two of our writers review the same album, providing two perspectives on the same record. After all, when it comes to music, beauty really is in the ear of the beholder.

Review by Tom Fairman

Sounds like … the love child of Neil Young and Bob Dylan with a dash of M Ward.

Conor Oberst, the mind behind Bright Eyes, is not the new Bob Dylan. Oberst has been plagued by this comparison ever since his brand of semi-political folk-rock was brought to a wider audience with 2002’s Lifted. He is, however, an extremely prolific and dedicated songwriter. And Cassadaga is another chapter in his saga following 2004’s double heavyweight I’m Wide Awake It’s Morning and Digital Ash in a Digital Urn.

Of the divergent musical paths forged in the wake of his previous albums, Oberst seems to have pursued the Western-essence found on I’m Wide Awake. Opening ominously, Cassadaga crystallises the ills of modern society in a single sentence – “Corporate or colonial/the movement is unstoppable/like the body of the centrefold/it spreads." Four Winds follows, complete with a violin riff bizarrely reminiscent of Santa Clause is Coming to Town, which works surprisingly well.

The highlight of the album comes midway through, on Middleman - a potential rock song that has been oppressed and distilled into a suspiciously gentle acoustic piece, which works exceptionally well for Oberst. The song simmers, threatening to burst its mere musical constraints, listeners eagerly anticipating a slash of distorted guitar – or something loud - to break the tension. But this never comes, and by the conclusion, it’s not a track of wasted potential - rather, a cause to marvel at Oberst’s fine grasp of restraint and ability to weave boundless energy within every guitar chord and soft string pluck.

Oberst doesn’t always nail it - Make a Plan To Love Me takes the tempo of 2004’s single Lua, but holds none of its strength, beauty or potency. This sentiment pervades the album. Yet the mastery of Oberst’s work is that which initially appears to be mostly repetitious country ballads, with dedication, reveals a taciturn glow that refuses to be extinguised and compels you to return.

7 out of 10

The Adventures Of Ghosthorse and Stillborn | CocoRosie
Touch And Go Records | April 10th

Review by Yoshua Wakeham

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Touch And Go Records
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Sounds like … crystal light-infused bicycle bells to a Thom Yorke beat.

CocoRosie’s latest is most likely to divide and challenge listeners, largely thanks to Bianca Casady’s strange, almost wilfully inaccessible voice. While her sister Sierra, the band’s other half, has a powerful, professionally-trained voice, Bianca warbles in a strange, childish way, a sour warhead or two south of Joanna Newsom. On Ghosthorse, the sisters have chosen to foreground Bianca’s weirdness more than ever, with Sierra hovering around singing both sublime supporting parts (‘Sunshine’ and ‘Werewolf’), and creepy little operatic overtures (‘Japan’ and ‘Houses’).

I’m not saying that Bianca’s vocal contributions are bad; they’re just different. Her unusual style of folk rap is unique and successful on songs like ‘Animals’, ‘Raphael’, and the aforementioned (and excellent) ‘Werewolf’, but listening to her puzzling, artificial crooning on ‘Japan’, or her more exaggerated idiosyncrasy on the peculiar and unnecessary ‘Bloody Twins’ will be a trial for all but the most patient listeners.

All grumbles aside, I feel free to say that this is a very good album; even Bianca’s fake Jamaican patois isn’t enough to ruin the addictive ‘Japan’, and ‘Raphael’ remains a hypnotic cathedral of a song. CocoRosie’s instrumentation is weird and fascinating, with kazoos, bicycle bells, children’s toys, radios, coins, and sampled beats jostling for space with the more (or less) conventional piano and harp. The sisters have crafted something like an art gallery soundtrack - delicate, ethereal, and precious. Old Masters like ‘Raphael’ and ‘Sunshine’ hang alongside pieces far more modern, like ‘Rainbowarriors’ and ‘Japan’. As for ‘Girl and the Geese’, it’s anyone’s guess what the artists were thinking.

If you think you can stomach what occasionally sounds like a puckered child singing along to a music box, you might not be able to stop listening.

7 out of 10