HOPE SINGS
IT’S A SUNNY DAY, AND I’M CRYING AS WILCO’S “DARKNESS IS CHEAP,” A TRACK off the stalwart indie band’s new album, Cruel Country, plays on a crappy Bluetooth speaker on the dining-room table that doubles as my desk. There are birds outside fighting at the feeder, and the sky is blue after days of rain and the endless gray that defined spring in Chicago this year. Frontman Jeff Tweedy’s brittle voice fills gaps between the sparse instrumentation. A horn, a piano, a guitar. It’s beautiful and sad in the way so many things are nowadays. Before I realize it, tears are rolling down my cheeks.
It’s been a long few years. For me, for you, for Jeff Tweedy.
