Monday, December 27, 2010


In this cold stretch of the holidays that's hammered like a shim between Christmas and New Years you may experience a kingly mood swing fueled by all the liquor and sweets and family visits, the fruitcakes and seasonal ales and figgy puddings and whiskey, barrels of whiskey, and you may find yourself on a bio-rhythmic roller-coaster that pitches and sways and whip-snaps and lands you flat on your ass feeling a desperate need for something true and non-sweetened and simple that doesn't taste like peppermint--and that brings you to Wilco. You need something acoustic and unadorned and true. Something that doesn't make your ears ring, your heart race or give you visions of sugarplums. These old boys--the bastards of Uncle Tupelo, the band that kicked off a genre--are the cure. Kick your shoes off. Set a spell. Have a listen.

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