Wilco
– A Ghost Is Born
Wilco had already obliterated the boundaries of alt-country and planted a flag in experimental rock’s messier corners. A Ghost Is Born didn’t tidy things up—it dragged them into a strange new light. It’s not so much a follow-up to Yankee Hotel Foxtrot as it is a dazed, insomniac sibling. The songs stretch and twitch, resisting catharsis. Jeff Tweedy doesn’t write from a place of comfort here. He writes like someone trying to get through the night.
Best of…
The guitars don’t ring—they unravel. Nels Cline, though not yet an official member, haunts the fringes like a man sharpening knives in the attic. And Tweedy’s voice? Worn, cracked, whispering at times, shouting when it can’t help itself. There’s a restlessness running through this thing. It’s deliberate but unsettled, as if each track was assembled by a sleepwalker trying to remember what music felt like in a dream.
And then there’s “Less Than You Think,” which throws down 12 minutes of ambient hiss like a dare—can you sit with discomfort, or will you skip it? But even that move feels honest. A Ghost Is Born is the sound of a band turning inward, cracking the shell, and handing you the mess inside. It’s not about big hooks or radio charm. It’s about the chaos that lingers when the applause fades.
Choice Tracks
Spiders (Kidsmoke)
A looping, krautrock-inflected trance that builds with relentless tension. Feels like a transmission from the center of Tweedy’s most paranoid thoughts, with a guitar riff that drills straight into your molars.
Handshake Drugs
Slinky and weary, this one glides on that wobbly keyboard line and Tweedy’s dry delivery. The lyrics are half confession, half hallucination—equal parts LA ennui and chemical regret.
Theologians
The most immediate track here. A sly melody masks some of Tweedy’s sharpest jabs at dogma. It’s catchy in a sideways way, with piano stabs and a late-song hook that lands like a wink.
Wishful Thinking
A soft exhale. Gentle acoustic strums and a deceptively simple lyric sheet that reads like journal fragments. It’s intimate, broken, and strangely comforting.
At Least That’s What You Said
Starts as a fragile whisper, then explodes into a jagged guitar freakout that feels like a panic attack mid-song. A perfect opener for an album that’s all about the tension between calm and collapse.