Twenty-one songs lie dormant on Cruel Country. Jeff Tweedy, who continues to survive his life, wrote and composed them all himself, as usual. And since they all are pretty well done, we can agree that Tweedy continues to hobble towards beatification and canonization; we hope these will happen in his lifetime: there he shall sit, in the company of Woody Guthrie, Lead Belly, and a few others. Because Jeff works quite hard. And he is so gifted, hyper-gifted even. It’s really amazing to listen to all the insight this man manages to transcribe from his external and internal perceptions. In “A Lifetime to Find,” for instance, he sings ” Oh Death, oh Death, I was just getting dressed – The place is a mess – I was hoping you’d forget – But I can feel you in my chest, I can feel you in my chest.” Or in “Hints,” he notes that ” There is no middle whеn the other side – Would rathеr kill than compromise.” Absorbing a plump opus like Cruel Country requires time and patience, as the album has little if no catchy tension, wild cavalcades, experimental curiosities, or other elements unique to Wilco albums since 1996’s Being There. This retro-folk and country bias translates into a soothing linearity. Nothing is dull, however, on Cruel Country. We know that Wilco is comprised of musicians who, in their niche, are above average. You can hear it in the harmonies, textures and nuances. Just listen to “Bird Without a Tail / Base of My Skull” for proof. To sum up, the release of Cruel Country (as well as any Wilco album) should delight any music geek with the slightest interest in Americana.
