When I was younger, maybe 10 or 11, so about ten years ago, I remember sitting on the beach with my family in Florida. We had a radio out there with us and my father, uncles, and grandfather were all drinking beer and listening to music. I remember my uncle picked out four cd's for that entire week-long vacation: Anodyne, A.M., Trace, and Wide Swing Tremolo.
At the time Uncle Tupelo, Son Volt, and Wilco were names that meant absolutely nothing to me. The music didn't sound too bad, laid-back, a little twangy I guess, certainly different from whatever the New Orleans alternative-rock station was playing in those days.
Over the next few years I can remember several instances when the voices of Farrar and Tweedy would float out from the family radio. Summers visiting the family in Monroe, Louisiana were spent out on the back porch, jumping in-and-out of the swimming pool. We'd take trips together out to Destin, Florida. Inevitably there would be an evening where the family would all be sipping beers or wine out on the porch, looking out at the sea. More than once Son Volt provided the soundtrack for these scenes.
I got older and became "aware" of Wilco while sitting in a buddy of mine's car. The next time I saw him, I asked my uncle if he would burn me all of Wilco's cd's that he had. He only gave me a copy of A.M.
"Ryan, this is really the only one I like. Tweedy got into drugs or something and all his music got weird and way out there. Farrar though, that man can still write a tune," said my uncle to me, the 15-year old budding music snob.
I fell into the trap of shunning A.M. and laughing at the faltering career of Jay Farrar as I collected every Wilco album. "And to think people expected Son Volt to do better than Wilco," I would exclaim.
However, the years have passed and my feelings and opinions have changed. Much of Wilco's music has become rooted so much in time-and-place, Mandeville/Covington, Louisiana 2000-2005, that listening to Tweedy and co. just isn't the same anymore. I'll never be the same kid I was the first time I fell asleep to "Pieholden Suite" or the first time I sang along to "The Late Greats."
Over the last 6 months or so I have Son Volt gradually creep their way into my playlists and music selections. Recently, Trace and Wide Swing Tremolo have been my first choices every time I've gone to my back porch to have a beer and read a book in solitude.
This summer I will be returning to Monroe for work between semesters. I have been told how bad of an idea this is. ("You'll be getting $60 shwag" some say). But I am rather looking forward to sitting poolside with a little Jay Farrar, and maybe a cold Shiner.
Son Volt- Medicine Hat
Son Volt- Strands
