Wilco shreds, shines at Summerfest

By Lindsay Eanet

Published Sept. 21, 2007

Jeff Tweedy totally winked at me.

And even if he didn't, even if he was winking at the couple snuggling against the barrier in front of me or the enthusiastic, aging hippies behind me, or even if it was just a generic wink to make the crowd swoon, it still felt like he was winking at me. The frontman of alt-country sextet Wilco possesses the uncanny ability to bring an intimate vibe into a large outdoor show, and he was able to do as much with the swarm of fans attending Wednesday night's Ninth Street Summerfest finale outside The Blue Note.

But despite the cowboy-hat-wearing singer's easygoing, scruffy charm, he had to share the spotlight with a few others, notably openers Dr. Dog and his band's lead guitarist, Nels Cline.

Philadelphia indie-pop quintet Dr. Dog, armed with Blues Brothers-esque sunglasses, plenty of luscious facial hair and captivating melodies, took the stage first.

The band had a frenetic, almost Muppet-like presence, full of energy released in yelps and wails, bouncing and strutting, the jerky movements serving as a stark contrast to its woozy, easygoing sound. Lead guitarist Scott McMicken, who stood on the far end of the stage, seemed dwarfed by not only the physical size of his guitar, but also by the band's crescendo-ing wall of exquisite harmonies and bright, '60s-evoking melodies that would make Brian Wilson smile and nod. Sweat sprayed into the crowd when rhythm guitarist Frank McElroy sang. They closed their set with the anthemic "Die Die Die," a bluesy number that could be a B-Side off of The Beatles' Let it Be album, and by the end, the audience had caught on and joined in the chorus.

During the segue between sets, roadies dotted the stage with colorful stuffed birds, in keeping with the visual theme of Wilco's sixth album, Sky Blue Sky, which features a flock of birds on its cover. The Summerfest performance is part of a tour to promote the album, released last May, giving the audience plenty of time to learn the new songs. This proved advantageous, since the evening's set list seemed to heavily emphasize material from Sky Blue Sky.

But the band was more than willing to break out some old favorites. Percussionist Pat Sansone worked tirelessly during "I Am Trying to Break Your Heart" by tossing around wood blocks and shakers to create the ambient noise against the song's catchy melodies.

The band kept banter to a minimum, with Tweedy occasionally checking in to make sure fans were having a good time and expressing his enthusiasm for performing in Columbia.

"We've been coming here longer than most of you have been alive," Tweedy said.

The band's seemingly seamless chemistry aside, the evening belonged to Cline. With an unfaltering expression that veered between a grin and a strain, the sound poured out of Cline's strings faster than his fingers appeared to move, effortlessly transitioning from blues to country to driving rock to ambient noise. His slide guitar substitute for the violin part in "Jesus, Etc." gave the song a breath of fresh air, and during the ballad "Via Chicago," he ripped into the chords, creating delightfully uncomfortable explosions of sound.

After turning "Hummingbird" into a jovial dance break, with Tweedy hopping and clapping onstage, Wilco returned to the stage to play two lengthy encores, which rounded out the set at about two hours. The band swept the crowd into a frenzy with the upbeat "Heavy Metal Drummer." Shortly after the song's line about a fan who "lifted up her shirt at the battle of the bands," a woman in the crowd flashed the band.

The second encore focused more on old-school Wilco and featured the pop anthem "I've Got You (At the End of the Century)" and two rarely heard songs from the band's debut album, A.M., one of which Tweedy dedicated to Blue Note owner Richard King. Despite the band's long and versatile existence, it sounded like a true rock 'n' roll band now more than ever.

The band ended with "Spiders (Kidsmoke)," a 10-minute stripped-down symphony with the audience clapping out the rhythm with intensity and precision. For a good three minutes after the song ended, there was claps still punctuating an otherwise quiet downtown Columbia as the audience's way of saying that no one was ready for the show to end.