Album Recommendations: Yankee Hotel Foxtrot |
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The old five-point scale has been retired in favor of just rating stuff 1-10, which allows me a much more nuanced final rating. Still don't take it that seriously. Most of these come from my own collection, so the grades skew rather high. Your results may vary if you send me stuff to review. Each album is given three Essential tracks, my personal favorites, regardless of how weird and inconsequential they are. The Quintessential pick is the one I think best represents the album as a whole, so you can try one song instead of a whole album of songs. Non-Essential picks range from merely disappointing to outright unlistenable. Wilco[#] Yankee Hotel Foxtrot (2002)Reviewed September 11, 2024I mean, where do you even begin? Do you start with how Wilco lost their minds making this thing? Do you talk about the backdrop of 9/11 coloring its release? Do you discuss the label troubles or the way Yankee Hotel Foxtrot cemented Wilco's place in music history? The web of tales this album's stuck in the middle of is as fractured as the music itself, and it's only fitting: not only is it an album about an inability to communicate, but it was pulled apart and reassembled at least a dozen times during its production (as I discussed in the First Draft entry for it on the group blog last year). You'd expect it to be a mess—and it is—but Yankee Hotel Foxtrot is expertly constructed in its chaos and is worth every glowing review you've ever read about it. Pacing is key to YHF. Jeff Tweedy knew full well which were his odd songs and which were his instant ones, and he perfectly uses the simplicity of a "War on War" or a "Heavy Metal Drummer" to diffuse the unresolved tension in, say, "Ashes of American Flags" or "Radio Cure". Where it all comes together is in the mixture of violin quartets and whistling ambience, summer nostalgia and cracked vocals, upbeat acoustics and Neil Young buzztar. By the time you get to "Poor Places"' squealing noise coda, with that alienated computerized Conet Project sample over the smoldering fields of guitar feedback and dissonant piano stabs, it becomes clear as day that Wilco really knew how to wield that juxtaposition of ugliness and beauty better than just about any of their peers, and we got one of the finest albums of the decade for it.
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