Everything was setting up for the perfect enjoyment of a crisp October night. It was fall break, I had no worries (albeit momentarily), and I was about to see one of my favorite bands perform live. After a very booked week, I had almost forgotten about the Halloween treat I had been waiting for since school started and if it wasn’t for some minor obstacles, it would have been a nearly perfect night.
I guess I can be grateful that after an hour of searching for my hidden tickets in a sea of papers, I found them. And I guess I could also be grateful that despite being eons away from the galactic center of Hill Auditorium, it still felt as if I was floating peacefully above the action. And yet even more, I must be grateful that although I haphazardly forgot my glasses, the miniscule blurs down below swirled to create a larger, more pleasing image. Most of all, I am grateful for my courage to “not wilco” in a move of utter defiance at a most crucial moment (read more to find out why).
I think expectation can sometimes cloud judgment but despite the unlucky sequence of events, I was still incredibly excited to be at the sold out show this past Friday. Wilco holds quite a large and diverse fan base. With a fifteen-year history, fans ranged from young to old and I found many students accompanied by their parents, likely because of fall break. As we filed into our seats, I almost felt as if we were congregating to a school assembly. I climbed endless staircases, stopping at the water fountain, and searched for the entrance to the majestically grand auditorium. The opening band was already into their set as I was lead to my nosebleed seat by a frazzled floor man. Upon realizing I didn’t have my glasses I accepted the fact that it was ineffectual to dwell on it and like the popular mantra and Wilco song I told myself; outta sight, outta mind.
Can’t say I was a huge fan of the opening act, Liam Finn, who seemed to have a mixed sound live. Nevertheless, I found myself waiting for Wilco, who joined in exuberantly during their final song. As the stage was prepared for Wilco, I noticed for the first time the absolutely breathtaking architecture of Hill Auditorium. From where I was sitting, it felt as if I was in a giant pearl with its circular concave structure and opening windows above. I was so high up, it looked as if we were drilling our way to an unknown center somewhere behind the stage curtains. As Wilco came on, they opened predictably with their eponymous single, “Wilco (the song).” The stage looked like a musical cargo ship, with all the band mates surrounded by equipment, including a samurai gong behind Glenn Kotche, the drummer. The show screamed fall, with somber lighting that would burst and flash periodically creating an intriguing interplay of shadows along the curved walls. At one moment the pearly orbs illuminated to the rhythm of the song, which made for a truly spectacular experience, especially for those outlier seats.
- Mighty Hill: If only I had some Wonka fizzy lifting drink so I could burst through the roof.
Wilco seemed to venture off into rocky waters shortly thereafter their hyped opener with drowned out tunes for lonesome lovers such as “Radio Cure” and “At Least That’s What You Said”. The usually engaging Tweedy seemed to be mad at us, refusing to say anything to the audience until a good eight songs in, even acknowledging his silence comically. About halfway through their set, things started to pick up with upbeat movers such as “War on War” and Nels Cline’s phenomenal guitar solo in “Impossible Germany.” Tweedy even humored us in one of the largest sing-a-longs I ever partook in to Jesus, etc. telling us “to follow the bouncing Tweedy.” The bittersweet and impassioned lyrics felt more real then ever as we all sang in unison, Tweedy watching his creation traverse space and mind. Yes indeed, Wilco seemed to be afloat and past its murky waters both in the moment and on the larger scale of their turbulent history. This lineup seems to be the most stable of their various past arrangements, although some may disagree. Tweedy even paid homage to Wilco’s beginnings with their first single, “Box Full of Letters” off their debut album A.M., you could hear the older folks cheer as Tweedy confirmed their presence and rocked out to the ’95 relic. (See Wilco’s beginnings on Beavis and Butthead back when we were still in grade school)
If Wilco’s initial stage presence upset anyone, their encore more than made up for it as our loud cheers were greeted with the much celebrated “You Never Know.” After a low energy experience throughout most of the two hour set, I had a strong urge to engage with the performance; I wanted to dance, I wanted to move, I wanted to scream the lyrics at the top of my lungs. Although I like seated concerts at times, I felt prisoner to my seat and being so far from the action, I longed to be at the front of the stage amidst the moving crowd. Call it a clash of generations but I felt as if I wasn’t allowed to stand because I saw the few who did immediately scolded by the older folks and the floor man in our section. Tweedy’s lyrics resonated more than ever, ” Come on children you’re acting like children, every generation thinks it’s the end of the world” and I no longer cared about how I should be acting and stood up to the music along with many others who decided not to follow. It was a powerful feeling as one of my favorites, “California Stars,” came on next. After learning about the legacy of Woody Guthrie and Wilco and Billy Braggs Mermaid Avenue reworking of his unfinished songs, the heartbreakingly beautiful lyrics took on even more meaning to me. I would’ve paid for the concert to hear and sing to this song alone but my experience was rudely interrupted by a hard tap on the shoulder with a floor man yelling in my face to sit down. I was shocked but felt a strong feeling (in opposition to Wilco’s name meaning will comply) to not follow his orders as I saw him go down and tell the other dancing souls to settle. I thought to myself he had no place telling me how to behave, I paid for my ticket and I wanted to enjoy this song. I was fearful since everyone indeed sat down but I continued to stand. I was shaking as he came back up. He stopped and thanked me sarcastically for sitting down and it took a lot out of me not to give him a big piece of my mind. I focused on the lyrics as I continued to sing along at once feeling empowered and connected to the music and the history behind it. It was a great feeling and although I may have upset some, I feel it was all worth it just “to dream my troubles all away on a bed of california stars.”
Despite the rocky start to my night and Wilco’s performance in general, both managed to coincide in an uplifting and strong finish.
