Every listener has their biases. I’ve just never really quite grasped 21st-century indie rock, whatever that label means. I’ve been trying and mostly failing to appreciate Arcade Fire, Grizzly Bear (or is it Panda Bear?), Vampire Weekend, etc. for two decades—these bands move many, many people, and so there must be something there, but my mind can’t get there. Wilco is maybe a gateway drug. The indecipherable lyrics and fuzzy pop melodies are indie to the bone, but Yankee Hotel Foxtrot has just enough country, just enough politics, just enough soul, to break through my cognitive prejudices. I don’t hear this as one of the greatest albums of all time, as some of my friends do, but with every listen I understand more what Wilco is getting at. Heartbreak, personal and social, is a mess, but it can be a lovely mess. Hence the catchy tunes obscured by distortion, the occasional glimmer of a clearly expressed emotion (“I wonder why we listen to poets when nobody gives a fuck”) emerging from haze of words felt and sung without need for comprehension, even by the singer (“I am an American aquarium drinker/I assassin down the avenue”). Got it. Radiohead’s got next. 8
Wilco. Yankee Hotel Foxtrot. Nonesuch, 2002. Reviewed August 30, 2025. Notable tracks: “Ashes of American Flags,” “I am Trying to Break Your Heart,” “Kamera,” “Jesus, Etc.”