In 2004, Jeff Tweedy was a man tormented by his mental health problems and addicted to opioids. His mind was a fierce whirlwind of melodies, migraines, depressive episodes, withdrawal syndromes, and panic attacks. Amid all that suffering -"despite it"- Tweedy, at the helm of Wilco, gave birth to a masterpiece like A Ghost Is Born, the album that solidified their place in the 21st-century music Olympus but almost cost him and the band their lives. When he finished recording, he begged to be admitted to a hospital. He thought that decision could mean "never making music again," but "anything" was better than continuing like that.
Gradually, Tweedy was reborn. Now, 20 years later, the band, of which he is the brain and soul, reissues that miraculous album with an immense array of extras: nine discs with unreleased tracks, half-baked demos, and live recordings. An experimental and highly inspired feast with which they set the standard in their genre, alternative rock. They will visit us in June, with stops at the Alma Festival in Madrid, Barcelona, and Granada, where they will not only perform songs from the album that nearly ended their leader but also have the opportunity to present the magnificent and underrated EP Hot Sun Cool Shroud, from 2024.
Tweedy (Belleville, Illinois, 1967) responds to EL MUNDO from his studio in Chicago. On the other end of the phone, his voice sounds bright, effortlessly cool. He is overwhelmed by the political drift in his country, but personally, he has never felt better. Those days of panic and darkness are behind him: "Now I feel inspired. I feel more capable and energized to do what I do than ever before in my life". "Addicts only see the world in black and white, I was very solipsistic and very sociopathic, but as I have adapted to the world others inhabit, with age, I have realized that humans are extremely well-equipped to bring light to darkness," he philosophizes. "I see it all over the world: I know that, when things get tough, humans are hard to destroy, because they connect through art."
These are "difficult," "dark" times. Especially in the US. He mentions it several times during the interview. Tweedy is eager to start touring. He wants to leave his country for a while. Escape. Leave behind that toxic atmosphere of hatred and division that governs Donald Trump. "To get some fresh air," he admits. As if things were diametrically different here. But we won't be the ones to criticize his (excuse the expression) wishful thinking. For a musician with a strong political inclination like him, trumpism represents "a systemic shock" that is too difficult to digest. Even more so in this second term, now without moral or aesthetic restraints.
- Is the US sick?
- Yes, it is. It's not good. It doesn't look good, but we are taking care of each other in our communities. We are trying to find... I don't know, the best way forward for everyone. We are looking for some form of resilience. I speak from a position of enormous privilege: I am not on the front lines of the pain they are causing. At least, not yet. We still have hope. We have hope that we can mitigate this disaster.
Wilco's leader calls for reclaiming the spirit of "resistance" as an antidote to a Trump who divides Americans, stigmatizes immigrants, and spreads lies about minorities and political rivals. A man who boasts that the rest of the world will "kiss his ass" in his trade war, and who is spreading crumbs of autocracy throughout the institutions of the world's leading power. Just in case they take root. Is that drift inevitable? What happened to the American promise of hope? "That promise has been lost worldwide, I think that's what happened. For me, the promise of hope that exists in America is best exemplified in our music... We still have the music."
And yet, when the raised voices of artists and intellectuals are most needed, they are heard less. "There is a lack of activism in current art and particularly in music", Tweedy laments. "I think the world has shown that music, joy, and beauty are a form of activism, a sort of revolutionary concept of resistance," he emphasizes. "I find the comfort that music provides valuable, and I know that is my role in life more than finding a political solution. I just know that the promise of America has never been for all Americans. Throughout my life, I have found that some of the best music ever made was created by some of the least free Americans. I try to honor that tradition with a transcendental approach to life."
- Can Wilco lead that resistance?
- I don't have to make an effort to resist. My mind cannot comprehend the current climate or what has led people to be so mean now, to be so wrong, to be so selfish and greedy. I don't understand it. I was born to resist. Everyone I know is trying to find the best way to accept the current situation in America, but I can't. I was born with that instinct.
A Ghost Is Born, the twenty-year-old album that brings Wilco back to our pages, is also the story of another crisis, the struggle against oneself. But the songs did not arise from that suffering. For Tweedy, there is no trace of a cursed process in his creative process. On the contrary. "No, no. I think it is more accurate to say that I created that music despite the difficulties, despite the problems I was dealing with, not thanks to them. I think the best of me remained intact to continue creating music. Music sustained me and helped me be healthier," he responds. "That is a very common thought people had about me, but it wasn't like that: the world would be full of beautiful art if it were only a product of suffering."
-But difficult times inspire more, don't they?
- I have always been very prolific, but difficult times add urgency to music. It's cool to let the music do what it has to do. I believe music is healing. I think there is something really important in bringing people together in a room, listening to music together. For me, the promise of rock and roll is that the world doesn't have to be like this. That is the fundamental message. You are not alone, and the world doesn't have to be like this. The world can resemble more what we are experiencing when we raise our voices and sing together, and when we share the collective experience of going to see something like a rock concert. I think that is extremely profound, and I feel very fortunate to be part of it.
Jeff Tweedy, the man who won over all alternative hearts with Wilco while drowning in his inner torments, now sees life in technicolor. But, paradoxically, he doesn't know where he is heading artistically. He will improvise. "I have no idea! I mean, I think the process of making music shows you who you are and makes visible the things that were invisible until then. It shows you what is inside you. I don't know what I want to say until I start saying it. For me, writing songs is that: a process to try to figure out what I am trying to create," he explains. It must be acknowledged that some answers are carved in marble. "Wilco is defined by what happens when we gather in a room. As an artist, I would prefer to have an idea of where we are growing, but, you know, the idea is that we are excited about the future."
But the truth is that they are increasingly looking to the past. First the anniversary of Yankee Hotel Foxtrot, now that of A Ghost Is Born... Could it be that Wilco is also falling into nostalgia? "No, I don't think the band is too nostalgic. Certainly not to the extent that I see many other bands are...", he clarifies.
This false yearning for the past brings the conversation back to the political arena, as Donald Trump is using nostalgia as a weapon of mass manipulation. "Of course, nostalgia for an imaginary past is very dangerous, because the times Trump remembers were not very good for many people, precisely," points out Tweedy. "When I was a child, almost all political discussion and the general atmosphere were focused on debating how to make the future better. Now many people cling to a small part of the past because they are afraid. People are traumatized by the speed of technological changes and the speed of cultural change. Especially white men, who believe that they will now be treated as they treated others," he reasons. "I don't blame them, but they lack imagination if they think that," he needles.
To those disillusioned white trash, Trump convinced them that he was going to be the new Ronald Reagan and was going to restore a leading and bossy country. A new hegemon bathed in gold. But he is doing the opposite of Reagan: a trade war. Trump is more like Cartman from South Park: narcissistic, manipulative, toxic, egotistical, talented in deception, capricious... Or not, Jeff? "Reagan was terrible, but I don't know Cartman. I don't watch South Park," he replies.
Now he has left us speechless, so we quickly change the subject: the leader of Wilco does know Rosalía, who is the only Spanish artist who manages to break down his "language barrier." "She is number one, she is the best of all time," he enthuses. And has Wilco ever birthed a song here in Spain during a tour? "Yes, of course. I don't remember which ones, but I write a little every day of the tour, so it would be impossible for it not to have happened."
Finally, Jeff laughs when we remind him that he tried to be a music critic, but with little success.
-And since you failed, you formed a band. Thanks, journalism!
-Yes, yes. I didn't put much effort into being a music critic. Let's say I didn't have much discipline in finishing things before the deadline...
We say goodbye and Jeff goes back to the beginning: "We are really looking forward to going to Spain. It will be nice to get out of here for a while, honestly."