Just over a year ago, Wilco surprised listeners with Cruel Country, a subdued set that leaned into folk textures and politically infused lyrics, signaling the band’s move from a christened alt-country boundary to broader studio exploration. The record arrived after a long gestation, reportedly on the shelf since 2019, and its quiet stance served as a counterpoint to the circuitry of Cousin, a project that would soon reveal itself as fog-laden, threaded with electronic interventions and double-layered dynamics.
The sonic fabric of Cruel Country may remind some of Wilco’s earlier journeys, notably Yankee Hotel Foxtrot (2001) and A Ghost Is Born (2004), milestones that marked the band’s willingness to push beyond established forms. In those eras, Jim O’Rourke acted as a kind of spelunker for the group, helping navigate unfamiliar caverns. For Cousin, the reins were handed to a younger collaborator, Welsh producer Cate Le Bon, who took on production duties with a distinct hand. Le Bon, then in her forties and closely associated with artists like Kurt Vile and Devendra Banhart, had already shown admiration for Wilco, evidenced by her press-inscribed nods to A Ghost Is Born on a magazine CD release from Uncut.
Yet Wilco remains committed to bending the rules of songcraft, altering structures, playing with timbres, and letting the grand melodic lines crafted by Tweedy breathe in unexpected ways. Cruel Country opens with the intimate, homegrown strum of an acoustic guitar, while Cousin propels the listener toward a moodier core, where electronic storms and the metronome’s unyielding tick set a darker tempo. The tension between these ambitions—loose, organic warmth and sculpted electronic propulsion—keeps inviting new discoveries, with the sonic energy oscillating between restraint and eruption until the cacophony gradually subsides.
There is no need to panic: Wilco’s identity remains intact. Tweedy delivers a compelling set of songs that stand robust on their own, and when coupled with Le Bon’s influence, the results become even more provocative. Tracks such as Ten Dead or Levee, anchored on piano, carry a sense of rueful reflection with lines like, “I like to take the pills just like the doctor asked me to,” a lyric that hints at shared anxieties and universal routines. The title track, with its combative energy and swirling synthesizers, presents a moment of confrontation and release that suggests a willingness to reassess long-held beliefs and confront old accusations anew.
Not only does Cousin steer the band back toward some of their signature strengths, with a taut propulsion that can feel almost ceremonial at times, but it also delivers material whose core resides in human motion—watching the pulse of sound become a living thing. The latter pair of songs, Soldier Boy and Want to Be, stand out for their directness and clarity, reminding listeners that Tweedy still possesses a steady stream of ideas ready to translate into compelling tunes. The album doesn’t merely extend Wilco’s catalog; it enriches it by creating space for tension, vulnerability, and a heightened sense of immediacy that fans have learned to expect from the band.
Across these records, Wilco maps a journey that remains faithful to its roots while inviting new textures and perspectives. The collaboration with Le Bon is not merely an add-on; it is a catalyst that sharpens the band’s instincts for timing, texture, and emotional resonance. The result is a twin-portrait of a group at ease with experimentation, yet stubbornly recognizant of the power of a well-placed piano line, a patient guitar figure, or a sudden electronic bloom. In this light, Cruel Country and Cousin function as complementary halves of a broader statement about Wilco’s current path—one that favors quiet introspection at times and decisive, electric propulsion at others, all while maintaining a sense of kinship with listeners who have followed their evolution for decades. The albums together underscore a belief that familiar sounds can still be reimagined, and that the band’s mission extends beyond hit-driven moments toward a sustained, thoughtful exploration of form and feeling. In this sense, Wilco’s recent work feels more like a conversation than a collection, a dialogue between old friends and adventurous collaborators, always with an eye toward what comes next. Where the band lands next will likely be shaped by the same curious spirit that has driven their evolution from the outset, a willingness to test boundaries while staying true to the human pulse at the heart of their music. As critics and fans alike continue to listen closely, the interplay between Cruel Country’s intimate calm and Cousin’s electric storms stands as a durable testament to Wilco’s enduring creative vitality.