52 in 52: Week 11 - "A Ghost is Born"

Week of 12/21/14 - 12/27/14

Album from 2004

What I didn't exactly realize when I started this was exactly how hard it was actually going to be to go out to a store and figure out when each album was released and which one I wanted to buy and if I could write about it. What I've been doing is writing down a short list for each year and then figuring it out when I get to the store. It's also a little weird because it seems like there was a time after vinyl was "useful" and before it was "retro," and so there are plenty of things, like albums from 2004, and I'm sure this will be a bigger problem in the late '90s, that never got released on vinyl, and if they did, they are somewhat rare and pretty expensive.

The only copy of "A Ghost is Born" by Wilco, which is from 2004, that I found in an actual store, was almost $30, and online it seems to be around $25. I've never spent that much on a single record. I could find something that I've never heard before, but it would take me a lot longer to write about it, because I really like music to settle and fester and find its place inside my head before I talk about it. There was Brian Wilson's "Smile" (or "SMiLE"), but I couldn't find that anywhere either.

Whatever, instead, I'm going to write about "A Ghost is Born" in general, and more specifically, why it's perfect 'headphone music.'

It's full, and layered, and the best way to find all of it is to have it pumped directly into your ears. I've had weirdly transcendent moments alone with certain songs, mostly times where I've fallen asleep with music playing, or I'm driving a long distance by myself, but this one was so memorable for me because it was the first time I had heard this song.

It was somewhere in between "A Ghost is Born" and "Sky Blue Sky" that I started listening to Wilco, so it wasn't one that I bought when it came out, and it wasn't one that I thought of as an album. I knew songs off of it, mostly ones that they play often, ("Hummingbird," "Handshake Drugs"), but I didn't know it as a whole. Then, one day a couple of years ago, I was alone at a frozen pond around the block from my house. It was the middle of the day, so all of the kids were still in school, and it was just me and my stick, my headphones, and a puck. I slapped on "A Ghost is Born" for no particular reason at all, and by the time "Spiders (Kidsmoke)" came on, I was in the full throes of the joy of skating on a pond, being outdoors and hidden by trees, gliding smoothly and purposefully, the below-freezing temperature smacking me in the face, nothing but me and the puck and a sudden realization of what was going on in that 10-minute song that I'd skipped over so many times.

"Spiders" is a very visceral song, with its musical interludes (of which most of the song is made up)  something that you have to be really into and aware of to recognize. It's sort of like when you're watching a movie, and if you're really watching it and not talking or anything, a big moment can make you cry, but with that same movie and that same moment, the opposite is true if you weren't really watching closely, or the entire time. You have to be really and truly present to listen to this song.

This album is full of music that feels like its bubbling, and about to spill over the brim any minute. It puts you on edge, like the best moments of "Spiders," which often do explode over into weirdness or beauty, or almost the entirety of "Less Than You Think." I rarely listen to the entire 15 minutes of this song, because at around the 3-minute mark, it spills over the brim into nothingness. It's a solid 12 minutes of noise and feedback and I don't know what else, of which I usually only listen to when I've got the album on and doing something else at the same time, and forget to hit skip. I think that it deserves to be listened to at least once in full, and you should try it when you're doing something, like sleeping or driving or ice skating, where you can really listen to it, but it's also not the only thing you're doing. It's a little bit self-indulgent, very much in a way that makes me ask, why does Wilco think we want to listen to them fiddling with their instruments?

Unfortunately, one of the album's best songs comes after "Less Than You Think." "The Late Greats" reminds me of something that I think I heard Adam Duritz say once, and that was that every single band has at least one great song in them somewhere. And I agree with that, whether they ever get to a place where they can write it or not, and whether they ever get to a place where thousands of other people will hear it, every band has at least one great moment inside of them. It's a little bit romantic, but then so is "The Late Greats":

"The greatest lost track of all time,
The Late Greats' Turpentine.
You can't hear it on the radio,
Can't hear it anywhere you go."

The song is a genuine anthem for all that we'll never know about, and never really dips over into mockery of "hipster" tastes that only like music that "nobody has heard of." It's a straight ahead rocking song, that actually commiserates (or even celebrates) that there is a wealth of great music in the world, and there always will be, even if you never get to hear it. Sure, there may be some jabs at music corporations and radio stations, but for the most part, this is a song about unknown bands that only played a couple of shows, or bands that never get signed that play the same bar scene for a decade, never moving up in the music industry.

Sidebar: When I was in college, my school had State Radio come play a show, and they had a student named Martin Earley open up for them. After the show, I picked up a couple of the kids CDs, which were blank discs with sharpie on them, and put them into my computer. I'm not sure if Martin still makes music, but I listen to these songs all the time. I put them on mix CDs for myself and sometimes for other people. There are a couple of really good songs on there.

The jaunty piano on "Hummingbird" is just amazing, and string section really brings the song to life. The song kicks ass, obviously, but I'd have to go with "Handshake Drugs" as the best song on the album. It's a sweet combination of rock-n-roll Wilco and weird Wilco, with poetry and tone changes and a little something gorgeous, and then an explosion at the end.

The album is a roller coaster of emotions and reactions that never feels like it has crazy and wacky changes throughout.

Some stray lyrics:

"When the devil came, he was not red,
He was chrome, and he said,
Come with me."
(from "Hell is Chrome")

"The sun gets passed from tree to tree
Silently, and back to me."
(from "Muzzle of Bees")

"His goal in life was to be an echo."
(from "Hummingbird")

"Theologians don't know nothing about my soul."
(from "Theologians")

"A fist so clear and climbing
Punches a hole in the sky
So you can see for yourself
If you don't believe me."
(from "Less Than You Think You Are")

52 in 52: Introduction
Last Week's: "I'm Wide Awake It's Morning" by Bright Eyes from 2005