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Reign of Mediocrity

2½ stars

Wilco
Wilco (The Album)
Nonesuch

Ah, Wilco … progenitors of sleepy indie rock/alt-country. Creators of the critically-lauded Yankee Hotel Foxtrot, an album that achieved such immense acclaim from press and fans alike that it will presumably loom over the rest of their career. I’ll just put this out here simply — Wilco (The Album), as a whole, sulks along in that murky middle-ground in which their last several albums have already established residency. There are a few chunks of gold buried in this record’s landscape, but digging through all of the mud is not an entirely rewarding experience. Although unfortunate, the album’s highs easily rank up there with the best of their past efforts.

The album kicks off with “Wilco (the song),” a mid-tempo rocker that shambles along dutifully, the sound of a band going through the motions — a big yawn of a song. Sadly, much of this album follows this trend. That’s the glaring problem — not that any of the music is offensively bad, but that it all feels entirely non-committal. I can’t imagine most of it appealing to anyone aside from dads who are commuting to work in the morning and need a little more than their Starbucks to perk them up — people who want to rock and/or roll, but not too hard and not too fast.

In the duet featuring Feist, “You and I,” Jeff Tweedy lays it on us with profound musings on life and love, such as “You and I / Me and you / What can we do?” The song, like many on the album, is almost saved at the end as the guitar leads give a silent nod to Robert Fripp, snaking their way through your cranium, but it’s never quite enough to make a song stand as a proud piece of art. This is followed by single “You Never Know,” which sounds like something Springsteen could shit out in his sleep.

I might be ripping too hard on this album. After all, it’s not entirely devoid of goodness. The track “Deeper Down” summons a western-tinged dream space with slide guitar followed by a half-buried, psyched-out electronic thunderstorm halfway through the song. The strongest track here is clearly “One Wing,” which features affecting lyrics and playing. “One wing will never fly / Neither yours nor mine / I feel we can only wave goodbye” is sung honestly and wholeheartedly before a great solo courtesy of Nels Cline, laced with youthful, passionate vigor.

I suppose that when you’re lords of a genre that you helped build, you can hang your laurel wreath, sit in your thrones and rule over a kingdom of mediocrity. I’m sure aging hipsters of the blogosphere will find ample reason to soil their pants over it, but should I force myself to think of reasons to be moved by these songs? More importantly, should anybody else? I searched extensively for a motive to praise this album, because even the most seasoned groups can flounder occasionally. But by the time Tweedy listlessly proclaims, “I don’t care anymore,” over and over, I realized that I didn’t either. — JESSE JACOBI

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Gun For You

4½ stars

The Smith Westerns
The Smith Westerns
Hozac Records

To realize that The Beatles made masterpieces before ever legally being able to drink in the States might have been enough to make some musicians want to hang up their guitars forever. On their stunning debut for Hozac Records, Chicago’s The Smith Westerns will make the same musicians want to hang themselves as they have made an essential pop record before a few members could even join the army.

In songs like “Gimme Some Time” and “Be My Girl,” the fearsome foursome strikes terror in the heart of modern songwriter’s hearts everywhere with a lo-fi mix of ‘80s powerpop aesthetics, T-Rex glam rock and doo-wop song structures. The album is brilliantly mixed with vocals and the band’s instruments at the same volume level making for an interesting take on Spector’s “Wall of Sound” ideal. With so many sounds bouncing off of each other, the shambolic sound is intense, yet controlled well, on “Tonight” and “My Heart.”

Like a Milk ‘n’ Cookies for today, The Smith Western’s self-titled record is the heir apparent to a throne built on top of copies of Bay City Roller 45’s and Electric Warrior. Nothing left to do for these boys, but to sit back and rule the roost for a while. — ERIC ALLEN

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3½ stars

Light In August
Places   
Self-Released

This local quartet blends neo-folk and indie-pop, with sunny guitar tones that gleam out, as sweet and soft mid-range cooing vocals weave and wander in a playful Cat Stevens manner. Yet, the vocals are also delivered in the world-worn wisp of Nick Drake (but amplified in LiA’s case with their measured and poignant use of harmonies). The bass lines have character, shimmying and bouncing along their own complimenting melody, while the drums are delicately pulverizing. Add in the flutes intertwined with jangly acoustics and you’ve got yourself a sing-out-if-you-wanna-sing-out vibe. — Jeff milo

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2½ stars

Ginuwine
A Man’s Thoughts
Notifi Records/Warner Bros./ Kedar Entertainment
Get past the hokey spoken intro on Ginuwine’s album, A Man’s Thoughts, and what you will find is a record of late ‘90s R&B that wants to have you sweating before the first 30 seconds of the album’s second track, “Show Off,” has kicked into its hi-hat-laden groove. AMT still sounds like the Ginuwine of old but a problem lies within this statement. This is clearly a sound that is definitive to a certain timeframe in music and the only real update on this album is AMT’s guest list.  Featured artists can't save you from sounding redundant. — ERIC ALLEN

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in my ear
Kommie Kilpatrick

Blasting out short, fast songs about girls at school and not wanting to get stabbed, Kommie brings a fresh approach to songwriting. Skip writing — just drink more. KK will play a free show in the Garden Bowl on July 8 and this is what the group will listen to in the days prior to it:

The Band
The Band
Public Enemy
It Takes A Nation Of Millions To Hold Us Back
The Jam
In The City
Clone Defects
Lizard Boy EP
Redd Kross
Born Innocent
Piranhas
Piranhas Attack
The Metros
The Metros
The Smith Westerns
The Smith Westerns
The Dicks
Kill From The Heart
The Spits
IV

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