I do not give one fuck about Wilco, in general. I have enjoyed glimpses of far above average songwriting and occasional studio magic from them but for the most part, it has always hit my ears as ferociously safe (and like so many things, because it doesn’t move me, I like it even less because it moves other people so much). I always charge back into their records with enthusiasm, but always come back out wishing for more adventure. Thank god for my endless patience, because their new collection, The Whole Love is right where I always hope they’ll go. I really liked (and wanted to love) Yankee Hotel Foxtrot, but it just never quite got me there, on any front. This record, from the first notes of “Art of Almost” is fun, believable, and aggressively broad. Fantastic songwriting and not at all afraid to get weird or challenging (but always when it’s right).

The album features excellence in every mood-range, beginning manic and up, then downshifting to lush and weird for the album’s third track, drippy piano-driven “Sunloathe.” The album continues muscular shifting between aggressive/loud and the more lush, folksy side, almost on a song by song basis, and always to the album’s benefit. With each turn, the rock stuff gets more believable and with each turn, the lush, pretty songs establish more interesting nooks and crannies. They almost lose me during the twangy “Open Mind,” which probably features the weakest songwriting on the album (granted, on an album of very strong songwriting), but I am a sucker for adding spacey cacophony and orchestral arrangements to country music, and so it gets a pass.

My favorite track, at this point in my relationship with this album, has got to be mid-late track “Capitol City” which is totally goofy and is made of 1/3 Wilco, 1/3 Randy Newman and 1/3 Brian Wilson. It bounces and beeps and wheezes with arpeggiators and horns and pedal steel. It is the point where the album really could’ve become just for me, running off the tracks of good taste and plummeting into fun and weird. Crazy illustrative background sounds, many tempo and time changes and a relatively boring story (but in the charming way) really won my heart entirely. Alas, Wilco manages to keep it cool and tasteful enough that everyone else can like it too, not just me. Still, I am thankful that I was patient enough to find my way to a Wilco I can love, on my own terms, instead of just accepting that they’re fantastic because of their regular tempest of adoration.

The uptempo songs on TWL are ultimately the champion, despite the other pole’s loveliness. Leading into the album’s homestretch, “Standing O” is one of the album’s best, with fuzzy EVERYTHING, handclaps, and (for Wilco anyways) a pretty healthy Bpm. Another down shift follows with the short and sweet “Rising Red Lung” which features the strongest lyric-smithing on the album: “Found a fix for the fits, come listen to this, it’s buried under the hiss…and it glows” (how long before a music blog springs up called fixforthefits.com? 3…..2………1…………….)

Title track actually does what you’d think more title tracks would do: It represents the album at-large really well. It sits squarely within this slightly-weird, fun aesthetic. It’s anthemic and compelling and sounds designed for a great-big group sing-along, draped in backwards guitars and yet more beeps. It’s great. I wish it was the end of the album. The album closes with a 12-min dose of normal Wilco, seemingly withdrawn from the rest of the record and then barfed up at the end, but after so much magic, I don’t even mind it. It almost says “yeah, we’re still Wilco, but that was fun, right?” It sure was.