Wilco
– Sky Blue Sky
This isn’t the sound of a band reinventing the wheel. It’s the sound of a band deciding the wheel’s just fine, maybe give it some air, clean off the rust, and take the long way home. After the storm of Yankee Hotel Foxtrot and the wonky sprawl of A Ghost Is Born, Sky Blue Sky is Wilco exhaling. It’s confident without being showy, grounded without being dull—a record that trusts the weight of a good chord change and the honesty of plain language.
Best of…
Gone is the studio wizardry and digital fragmentation. Instead, you get guitar solos that sing, pianos that breathe, and Jeff Tweedy sounding like a guy who’s been through something and doesn’t need to shout about it. The band plays like a group of adults in the same room, which shouldn’t feel radical, but in 2007, it sort of did. There’s a lot of space here—musically and emotionally—and Wilco uses it to let the songs stretch out and settle in.
It’s not flashy. It’s not angsty. It doesn’t beg for your attention. But if you’re listening, really listening, it’ll hit you in the chest like a slow wave. It’s an album about compromise, memory, and aging with a little grace and a lot of guitar tone. You won’t find urgency here. You’ll find weight. And in Wilco’s hands, that’s enough.
Choice Tracks
Impossible Germany
This track is Sky Blue Sky’s quiet MVP. Starts off like a half-remembered dream and builds to a guitar duel that would make Tom Verlaine nod in approval. Nels Cline doesn’t just solo—he narrates. And every note feels earned.
You Are My Face
The split personality of the album in one song. It opens like a lullaby and pivots into a punch of mid-tempo existential dread. Tweedy’s lyrics don’t offer comfort, just reflection, and the band shifts moods like a sky turning before a storm.
Either Way
The opener sets the mood gently. It’s all calm resolve and soft-spoken hope. The band eases in like old friends taking their seats at a dinner table. “Maybe the sun will shine today.” Maybe it won’t. The song’s strength is that it finds peace in both outcomes.
Hate It Here
Here’s Tweedy leaning into domestic heartbreak with just enough humor to keep it human. Doing the laundry, mowing the lawn—it’s all filler to avoid missing someone. It’s tragic, kind of funny, and beautifully arranged.
On and On and On
The closer is a gentle wave goodbye. Spare, resigned, intimate. It doesn’t want to blow your mind; it wants to leave a mark. Just a voice and a piano, asking the kind of questions you can only ask after midnight.
Sky Blue Sky isn’t trying to be the future of rock music. It’s more interested in the present. And for Wilco, that’s a riskier move than all the sonic experiments in the world. But they make it feel like the most natural thing.