Wilco with Carol

“Blood on the sofa, blood in the sink, blood in the trunk, I’m high at the wheel of a Bull Black Nova,”
-Jeff Tweedy, “Bull Black Nova”

Wilco is my favorite band. Maybe because I, like many others who have listened to the album, think Yankee Hotel Foxtrot defines the last 10 years of music better than almost anything else that has come out in that timeframe. Maybe because I’ve been listening to Wilco for the better part of a decade. Maybe because Wilco, who put out an album without fail every two years, has never let me down.

As of Tuesday night, I have seen Wilco seven times in concert. Each time is a unique experience, as the band is notorious for playing a variety of their back catalogue during lengthy tours. I can honestly say, every time I have seen Wilco in concert, I have walked away impressed at the meticulous deliverance of every song the band played. Tuesday night at the Wang Theatre was no exception. However, something was different this time around. It took me all of 30 seconds to put my finger on it.

Yuppies. They were everywhere. Of course, there was the standard faction of tweed coat wearing, beard sporting, thick glasses donning fan boys, but they were vastly outnumbered by 40 and 50-somethings. I could have been at a concert with my mom’s friends.

To illustrate my point, I will describe in detail the concertgoer sitting in front of me. She was a woman of about 45, with a mom haircut, wearing mom jeans (I am talking straight out of the Tina Fey Saturday Night Live skit). While waiting for the show to start, this lady – we’ll call her Carol for the sake of this story (she seemed like a Carol) – was using her Smartphone to cruise her Facebook page. As I was trying to wrap my sublimated brain around the fact that I was at the same concert as dear Carol, her son came up and started talking to her about how excited he was to see their “favorite new band together.”

At this point I would like you, my faithful reader, to refer to the lyrics above. Carol and her son were referring to the very band that wrote those twisted, depraved lyrics.

Jesus.

Once the house lights dimmed and the band took the stage, I thought I would be able to distract myself by watching my favorite band play in front of my eyes. Carol wasn’t having any of that. She began snapping photos with her phone and uploading them to Facebook instantaneously. Once the photo shoot was over, I watched Carol gyrate, yes, gyrate, to some of my favorite songs from Foxtrot, A Ghost Is Born and Summerteeth.

You may be wondering if I watched even a song’s worth of Wilco’s performance or if any part of this article will be about anything other than Carol. The answer is yes. The band opened with three new songs, “Art of Almost,” “I Might” and “Black Moon” from their forthcoming LP, The Whole Love.

After offering three new songs, front man Jeff Tweedy and company gave their audience what they paid $50 for, back catalogue. The band began a run of old favorites, beginning with the title track off Foxtrot, “I Am Trying to Break Your Heart.”

I remained lukewarm on the set and the band’s performance in general until they launched into the aforementioned “Bull Black Nova,” a number from Wilco, The Album. The band found one another and the energy that draws me out to see them every time they come around.

The highlight of the night came early in the set with the band delivering a shrieking rendition of “At Least That’s What You Said,” off 2004’s A Ghost Is Born. The live performance of this song is something along the lines of aural schizophrenia (I really hope I haven’t used that phrase in another article). It starts out soft and pretty and abruptly explodes into a frantic showcase of the sloppy, yet methodical, guitar work of Tweedy.

Presenting a fairly standard encore, Wilco launched into four classics from Foxtrot, Ghost and the seminal Being There. Finishing off their stint in Boston with two back to back numbers from Being There, “Monday” and “Outtasite (Outta Mind).”
As I was belting out the words to “Monday,” I looked to my left, and realized I was singing along with Carol, Carol and I, two peas in the proverbial pod.