Autumn Souvenir

I first saw Wilco live on 12/14/94 in Somerville, MA. It was their fifth show ever. Tweedy opened the encore with a solo take on the Uncle Tupelo song "Gun" and that was it. While Tweedy sang and my jaw slammed to the ground, the rest of band - Coomer, Bennett, Johnston and Stirratt - signed my Johnny D's paper calendar. Tweedy penned it when the show was over. I bought a horrid-looking yellow t-shirt that I wish I still had. Since that night, I've literally followed their every move. In terms of a band being in their prime, Wilco are my favorite band ever (my first Springsteen show was in 1985 (age 12). Had I been old enough to catch the 70s shows, I imagine he'd likely be tops). I've seen them all over the damn country: New York City (about 20x), South Carolina, Baltimore, New Haven, Cincinnati, Hoboken, San Francisco, Boston. I've driven hundreds and hundreds of miles. I have every record on every format (often multiples of each). I've probably...

I should just post this weekly.

There aren't many songs that, in some sense, drift me off into somewhere, I don't know, spiritual. Richard Buckner's "4am" comes to mind, as does Nick Drake's "Fly," Gavin Bryars' The Sinking of the Titanic , and the entire Rachel's Music for Egon Schiele record. But of all my hyperbole around music, it truly is rare to have a song almost lift me. And of all the years that I've followed Wilco, the last song on the latest record is the first time they've drawn me into that unknown.

This is darn near the pinnacle.

Still a lot of 2011 releases that I haven't spent nearly enough time with. This is one. And it's growing on me quite a bit.