Product Description

Fourth album by critically-lauded alt.country act, delayed by contractual wrangles since June 2001. An experimental poprecord in the vein of psychedelic-period Beatles or Beach Boys, produced in Chicago by the band, and inspired by their obsession with mysterious radio broadcasts. The album's title comes from YHF, a short-wave radio station operated by theIsraeli intelligence agency Mossad.

Product Details

• Amazon Sales Rank: #4720 in Music
• Released on: 2002-04-22
• Number of discs: 1
• Format: Enhanced

Amazon.co.uk Review
Named in honour of the three-word codes used by short-wave radio operators, Wilco's fourth album Yankee Hotel Foxtrot sounds like a late-night broadcast of some weirdly wonderful pop station punctuated by static and the sonic bleed of competing signals. Songs that begin with simple, elegiac grace--"Ashes of American Flags" and "Poor Places"--end in a cathartic squall of distortion. The results can be initially jarring, but it's these tracks more than the sturdy jangle pop of "Kamera" or "Heavy Metal Drummer" that demand, and reward, repeated listens.

Mixed by studio experimentalist Jim O'Rourke and produced by the band, Yankee Hotel Foxtrot harkens back to a time when the words "pop" and "sonic adventurism" weren't mutually exclusive. The Beatles and Kurt Cobain knew this, and clearly so do Jeff Tweedy and company. --Keith Moerer

Customer Reviews

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As any faithful music listener will attest, there is a period between buying an album and giving up on an album. This can range from minutes to years depending on the context, and I feel Yankee Hotel Foxtrot's time has come, despite all the acclaim, intriguing label arguments and respect it is given by those I trust. Say, twelve months or so for this one; that's the time it took this record to devolve from "possibly grower" to "painfully grey object of boredom", and that will likely be the way it stays. But I would like to believe. Spending my slightly hard-earned money on wonderful records is infinitely more preferable than wasting it away on unloved bits of plastic and paper, so I look for the positives: "Jesus, Etc." is jolly enough, I suppose; the Conet sampling is used to marvellous effect here, and is undoubtedly the most interesting thing to grace the ears of the listener. And that might well be it. It is not enough for me to return any time soon, and it is certainly not enough for me to join the army of those claiming this to be some sort of modern day masterpiece.

As a side note, the last few seconds of "Poor Places" would have allowed Yankee Hotel Foxtrot to claim the prize for greatest ending to a pop album, although they had to ruin it by tacking the damp, all too safe "Reservations" on the end. Cockspankers.

I'm The Man Who Loves You!
It took me a long time to come round to Wilco. I had always wrongly thought of them as a square man's Flaming Lips. While there are superficial resemblances between the two bands, Wilco's experimental brand of alt-country is focused on more classic pop concerns. The sonic adventurism of Yankee Hotel Foxtrot lends additional quirkiness to many of the songs while establishing a conceptual whole. The squalls of radio static that ends the likes of 'Ashes of American Flags' add a threatening post-September 11th precariousness to the faux-naivity of many of the tracks. The nostalgic atmosphere of the album suggests more innocent times, as played out in the metaphor of radio-friendly pop carried through the airwaves. But the malevolence of the modern age simmers under the surface as if radio frequencies are accidently crossing, adding a bittersweet dischordance and sometimes threatening to subsume the music altogether. But for all the conceptualism, Yankee Hotel Foxtrot is ultimately an album of great experimental pop songs in the tradition of the Beatles.

While Jeff Tweedy's vocals can underwhelm, Wilco compensate with more melodies and ideas than many bands can count on in a career. Many of the songs on Yankee Hotel Foxtrot have the instantly recognizable air that great songs do, even if you haven't heard them before. The melancholy slide guitar on `Ashes Of American Flags', for instance, or the little violin refrain on `Jesus Etc', and the burbling, propulsive electronics on `War On War' - almost every song has a compelling identity and irresistible hookiness. You can easily forgive the riff on `Pot Kettle Black' sounding very similar to The Cure's `In-Between Days'. What seems amazing today is that Wilco had to fight to have this album released, as it was deemed so uncommercial by their record label. Yes, there are moments of wigged-out experimentation - no doubt influenced by studio maverick / multi-instrumentalist Jim O'Rourke - but crucially Tweedy and co. have not forgotten how to write great songs.

If you like this try aforementioned bands (The Beatles, obviously, and The Flaming Lips' Soft Bulletin), `Gimme Fiction' by Spoon or `Shepherd Dog' by Iron & Wine.

The Great American Rock Album?
Wilco's `Yankee Hotel Foxtrot' carries a reputation for experimentalism, and whilst it is true that on this record you will find bursts of squally feedback and radio noise punctuating their alt.country template, the truth is that for the serious music lover this is not a difficult record to love and admire.

I have been a music lover for nearly 20 years but I find it hard to think of another album that matches this one for passion and strength of emotional delivery. The feel of the record is very much post 9/11, but not in a mawkish or overly sentimental way. Instead, Jeff Tweedy and his band deliver songs which capture the mood of that time - songs which articulate fear, panic, confusion, uncertainty for the future and also deep nostalgia for the past.

The opening track features a weary piano melody which disintegrates into a finish of squally feedback and radio hiss. `Radio Cure' opens with the line "Cheer up honey, I hope you can" delivered in an agonising tone and blossoms into an evocative mix of angst and beauty.

9\11 references litter the CD -` Jesus etc' features the line "tall buildings shake" over a lovely string and keyboard melody, but the theme is expatiated most explicitly on the aching heart of the album - `Ashes of American Flags'. This hazy guitar and piano piece unfolds in an atmosphere of helpless panic: "I'm down on my hands and knees/Every time the doorbell rings" and "Speaking of tomorrow/How will it ever come?" are stand out lines which send a shiver down the spine, before the track dissolves in a chaotic finish of bursts of noise and discordant snatches of sound.

`Ashes..' is followed immediately and most effectively by `Heavy Metal Drummer', an upbeat, poppy song which is pure nostalgia for a more innocent past: "I miss the innocence I've known/Playing KISS covers beautiful and stoned".

The record on the whole has lighter feel after `Ashes..' but is no less emotionally affecting. Throughout, the songwriting is unbelievably good - melodic, mature and engaging. The only very minor criticism is over `Reservations', the final track, which starts with a lovely weary melody but fizzles out a bit disappointingly at the end, but this still remains one of my favourite CDs of all time and may be as close as one can get to the Great American Rock Album.