Wilco can morph
I haven't yet heard Wilco's new album, A Ghost is Born. Be that as it may, Mark Grabowski's review of it ["Making a case," May 6] left me, and hopefully most of his readers, pretty down.
Grabowski seems to have written off this latest effort by Wilco because it departs from the mostly recognizable pop spirit of the band's earlier work. While I guess someone ought to apologize to Grabowski for "I Am the Walrus" not sounding much like "Love Me Do," I'm afraid I can't be the one.
It could certainly turn out that A Ghost is Born is a stinker of a record. It could be that the attempt to bring this one together just plain stumped Wilco. But it occurs to me nonetheless that artists are people, people who listen to the heart's advice with an ultimately exclusive attention. Otherwise, they lead the same kind of a life that we do, a life prone to constant changes, surges, and failings of that same indomitable heart.
Perhaps it's just that artists are more dishonest than we are, still hollering into the face of our cynical, heat-swollen consumerism that you can try to change your life or your art and go unpunished for it. If that's the case, well, make me dishonest.
Jonathan G. Williams