Wilco, Via Chicago


Wilco is turning 20 years old, but about 10 years ago I loved that band with a nerdy, eager cooped-up high schooler kind of feeling. They were my band when I was 16. They were from Chicago, like me. They had a pleasingly turbulent backstory and every lyric seemed to be about yearning. I wanted to be someone's "pop quiz kid." I wanted to assassin down an avenue.


I was an awkward-as-hell mopey freshman when Yankee Hotel Foxtrot came out, and I heard about it from reading Pitchfork when it was just some dude's blog (yes, even though Jeff Tweedy is now basically the High Chancellor of Dad Rock, Wilco used to be kinda hip). I bought the album with my babysitting money from Border's and listened to it in my Discman on the train on the way to school. Then I bought all of their other albums. Then I burned them for my family and friends, who largely did not share my zeal for this alt-country outfit from the north side.


I honestly haven't listened to Wilco much recently but it's not in a "derp I only like their early work" sort of way; I guess my tastes have changed and I don't listen to rock much in general. But put on Being There and I will listen to the entire 19-song double album and I might even get a little choked up at "Red Eyed and Blue."


If you clicked on this because you like Wilco, too: What's your favorite song? And if you've never heard them, well, here's the entirety of Summerteeth is posted above because I think it's the best intro to the band.


But screw it, here's Yankee Hotel Foxtrot while we're at it:





Welcome to Soundtrack, what Gizmodo's staff are listening to every night.






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