treasurehilt.blogg.se

1. #JEFF TWEEDY SONG AT THE END OF THE SUN CAME OUT CODE#
2. #JEFF TWEEDY SONG AT THE END OF THE SUN CAME OUT CRACK#

In “Laminated Cat,” a lovely and under-heard tune from his side project Loose Fur, the seasons keep changing but Tweedy’s sense of ennui doesn’t: In summer, autumn, winter, and spring, he’s still “weeding out the weekends” with books that “know they’re not worth reading.” For “Sky Blue Sky,” he suggests, perhaps sarcastically, that a cloudless day would mean “this rotten time / wouldn’t seem so bad to me now.” “In a Future Age” puts nature’s indifference in more apocalyptic terms: “Some trees will bend and some will fall / But then again so will us all.” The newest track of Together at Last, 2011’s ”Dawned on Me,” seems to crystalize his view on the outer world: “Every night is a test / To the east from the west / The sun rises and sets / That’s the sun at it’s best.” “The sun gets passed from tree to tree silently, then back to me,” he repeats, as if it were a calming mantra.

That song also showcases the way Tweedy often uses natural imagery as a concrete anchor amid his abstract explorations of the mind. There’s even small talk about communication-are dogs barking out of laughter or anger? Then finally comes a devastating little vignette about indirect, eyes-to-the-ground emotional exchange: “I’m assuming you got my message on your machine / I’m assuming you love me, and you know what that means.” The listener is, naturally, left to guess what that means for Together at Last, a ruminative passage of finger-picked guitar provides only tonal clues. In the delicate, deceptively pastoral song, it’s as though he’s describing what he sees in order to avoid saying what he feels. The 2004 album it came from, A Ghost Is Born, arrived with a narrative about Tweedy struggling with drug use, migraines, and depression the notion of a stinging swarm around his head would seem to fit. “Muzzle of Bees” might also be about mealy-mouthedness getting in the way of intimacy. The only time there’s clarity is when he’s talking to himself: “What was I thinking when I let go of you?” The aquarium drinker is drunk his expression of affection comes out as “tongue-tied lightning” and sincerity mistaken for sarcasm. “I Am Trying to Break Your Heart” conveyed this, in part with echoing guitar strums and white noise, and in part with Tweedy’s mad-libs.

#JEFF TWEEDY SONG AT THE END OF THE SUN CAME OUT CODE#

The title of Yankee Hotel Foxtrot came from a military code broadcast by radio, an apt metaphor for Tweedy’s take on communication: His narrator is always transmitting, hopeful but also worried he’ll be deciphered by his intended audience. The striking thing about that point of view in relation to Tweedy’s catalogue is that many of his songs seem to be about the impossibility of articulating accurate meaning through words. Things that, if you could explain them straightforwardly, you wouldn’t have to have poetry, you wouldn’t have to have songs.” He added that the reason we need poetry and songs is “to say the things that can only be expressed in this kind of elegant, inexplicable way. “The gift, I think, is the ability to be able to go into your subconscious, come back unscathed, and present something from it,” Tweedy told Joe Fassler for The Atlantic in 2014. Like a lot of rockers, Tweedy creates lyrics in a process resembling automatic writing: He gets a melody down by singing true nonsense, and then he pieces together words that might fit the syllables. The Best Skin-Care Trick Is Being Rich Amanda Mull But more than anything the album highlights that his poetry often seems to be about poetry itself.

#JEFF TWEEDY SONG AT THE END OF THE SUN CAME OUT CRACK#

You’re also reminded of how distinctive and lovely Tweedy’s voice is: his slight huskiness, his way of ending words quietly, the willingness to crack when he wails a high note. Even the most avant-garde of Wilco tracks hold up here, even when it’s just harmonica, guitar, and maybe some whistling a song like “Via Chicago,” you’re reminded, is catchy, not just creepy. Together at Last also, of course, demonstrates Tweedy’s remarkable talent with songcraft. Without the layers of instrumental intrigue that distinguish Wilco’s folk rock, the American Dixie cup drinker assassin-ing down the avenue of “I Am Trying to Break Your Heart” and the muzzle of bees of “Muzzle of Bees” have nowhere to hide-they ask to be heard and understood. Jeff Tweedy’s Together at Last, an acoustic album of songs he’s previously recorded, forces the listener to reckon anew with how one of the best songwriters of our day mostly sings in gibberish.