Anchors: 5/5
I made one mistake upon my first listen of Wilco’s 13th studio album, “Cousin”: I expected. As a regular listener, I could not help but to theorize about the sound of this album. Well, it ended up nothing like my prediction, which contributed to my initial “meh” reaction. It was not until I chewed on the album for a bit longer that I realized that it is not the nature of the album that originally deterred me, but rather my incorrect consumption. Only once I slowly digested the content––rather than burning through it in a rapid jam sesh––did I understand what I missed at first.
Wilco is nearly 30 years old, its members in their 50s and 60s, and with their age, their musical priorities have matured since the 90s. The album’s lyrics are full of observations and reflections about everyday anxieties, like the challenge of persistence in relationships. The album’s general tone, as delivered by Tweedy’s murmurs, is somewhat blurred and stumbly, complimented by experimental dabbling in synthesizers. Noteworthy songs include “A Bowl and A Pudding,” grounded in mesmeric chord and lyric repetition, “Ten Dead,” which carries a heavier tone and focuses on desensitization to the many atrocities of the present day and “Meant to Be,” the encouraging and hopeful closing track.
Overall, “Cousin”’s themes are more mature than previous albums, mirroring the band’s own age and development, yet it offers a completely fresh and welcome addition to Wilco’s catalog. Creative, weird and distinct, the album proves the band’s sound is continuing to expand as they themselves grow, and I expect this variety will only intensify as they produce more music.
