Wilco, after 29 years, hold a special place in the hearts of the people for whom it’s all about the music, man. The air of veneration in a packed Forum is palpable, even if leader Jeff Tweedy seems not to welcome it. After one fan shouts out his appreciation, Tweedy murmurs into the mic, not aggressively, but not without a degree of sarcasm: “This is the part of the show I enjoy, where I get to speak to each of you individually.”
For the first half of this two-hour gig, it’s a little like watching an expensively assembled football team roll over some lesser opposition: everything is plainly brilliant, everyone knows exactly what they are doing, every element is in its place, but it also feels a little inevitable, and because of that just a little uninvolving. It’s not boring – these are fantastic songs, played fantastically well – more that this is what Wilco do. The band just play; Tweedy makes no effort to communicate.
