11.19.2004
Worried About Wilco
So I’m seeing Wilco tomorrow night with a friend from my last job and my friend L. She recently left her husband, too! It’s going to be quite a night. Much trash will be talked, cigarettes will be smoked and grungy, inappropriately young boys will be ogled.
That part is fine. What I’m worried about is, well, Wilco. I know Jeff Tweedy is a young man, but he’s been through some shit lately. And I watched their boring movie and know that the band ain’t exactly a busload of happy campers. Plus, D saw Tom Jones last night – as much for the Man as for the Music, and reported that he was spectacular. And many panties were thrown on the stage.
A) I doubt that panties will be thrown at Wilco, since indie-rock girls are notoriously conventional in their unconventional posturing. It would be, like, totally uncool.
B) Am I overestimating how much I’m going to like the show? And along those lines, not that Tweedy is old, but the band's reputation precedes it. And I’ve sworn off seeing aging rockstars since L and her now-estranged husband dragged me and my EH to – I’m so ashamed – KC and the Sunshine Band. Now, I know that KC won’t age as well as, say, a Dylan or a Jagger – not even a Manilow or a Sedaka – but it was just plain disturbing to see a man that age sweat that much. Period.
(To top off that soul-scarring night, we had gone to dinner at the world’s worst Cajun restaurant first. Wait - is there a good one? ...I don’t even want to know.) Believe me, it wasn't my idea.
D has seen all the cornerstone gods of 70s rock artists play live – Bono, Mick, Neil, Bob and Bruce included – many times over the years. (He’s a real diehard in that regard – ask me how difficult it is to get him to download a single song post-1985 on his iPod.) But I respect his dedication to his Aging Giants. D’s thing is this: he doesn’t want to waste time or ticket money on some flash-in-the-pan band. He likes a band with staying power. And a long, long catalogue of music.
In regard to Tom Jones, he said, “that guy is still reinventing himself without losing the old TJ that everyone loves.” He asked me, “I'm wondering what Jeff Tweedy will be doing at 64!!!????” To which I responded, “Who cares what he'll be doing at 64?”
Maybe I shouldn’t worry about Wilco. Maybe not caring is the beauty of their music. It’s wholly ephemeral, sometimes beautiful, and perfect for the moment. Jeff Tweedy...maybe when he’s 64 some form of music television will try to track him down for Indie Bands Reunited or something. They'll find him living in some broke-down plantation home, his 16 grandkids all running around without shoes on, and he'll be like, "No man, I can't leave my home. It's too delicate a balance."
Sixty-four, thirty-four. Doesn't matter, I suppose, as long as they play “Passenger Side” and "Heavy Metal Drummer."
Editor's note: Wilco was amazing. Rush rush rush to see them if you possibly can.
That part is fine. What I’m worried about is, well, Wilco. I know Jeff Tweedy is a young man, but he’s been through some shit lately. And I watched their boring movie and know that the band ain’t exactly a busload of happy campers. Plus, D saw Tom Jones last night – as much for the Man as for the Music, and reported that he was spectacular. And many panties were thrown on the stage.
A) I doubt that panties will be thrown at Wilco, since indie-rock girls are notoriously conventional in their unconventional posturing. It would be, like, totally uncool.
B) Am I overestimating how much I’m going to like the show? And along those lines, not that Tweedy is old, but the band's reputation precedes it. And I’ve sworn off seeing aging rockstars since L and her now-estranged husband dragged me and my EH to – I’m so ashamed – KC and the Sunshine Band. Now, I know that KC won’t age as well as, say, a Dylan or a Jagger – not even a Manilow or a Sedaka – but it was just plain disturbing to see a man that age sweat that much. Period.
(To top off that soul-scarring night, we had gone to dinner at the world’s worst Cajun restaurant first. Wait - is there a good one? ...I don’t even want to know.) Believe me, it wasn't my idea.
D has seen all the cornerstone gods of 70s rock artists play live – Bono, Mick, Neil, Bob and Bruce included – many times over the years. (He’s a real diehard in that regard – ask me how difficult it is to get him to download a single song post-1985 on his iPod.) But I respect his dedication to his Aging Giants. D’s thing is this: he doesn’t want to waste time or ticket money on some flash-in-the-pan band. He likes a band with staying power. And a long, long catalogue of music.
In regard to Tom Jones, he said, “that guy is still reinventing himself without losing the old TJ that everyone loves.” He asked me, “I'm wondering what Jeff Tweedy will be doing at 64!!!????” To which I responded, “Who cares what he'll be doing at 64?”
Maybe I shouldn’t worry about Wilco. Maybe not caring is the beauty of their music. It’s wholly ephemeral, sometimes beautiful, and perfect for the moment. Jeff Tweedy...maybe when he’s 64 some form of music television will try to track him down for Indie Bands Reunited or something. They'll find him living in some broke-down plantation home, his 16 grandkids all running around without shoes on, and he'll be like, "No man, I can't leave my home. It's too delicate a balance."
Sixty-four, thirty-four. Doesn't matter, I suppose, as long as they play “Passenger Side” and "Heavy Metal Drummer."
Editor's note: Wilco was amazing. Rush rush rush to see them if you possibly can.
