tonight's wilco show at radio city did a fine job of washing last year's rockette christmas spectacular out of my mouth. it would be ungrateful to fault the venue for clashing with the band's aesthetic: i confess that i didn't hear of the gig at all until ticketmaster sent me a reminder. a skanky club would have been sold out before i woke up.
and, honestly, wilco seemed like they wanted to do a big genteel thing. a ghost is born is short on the foot-stompers i loved on summerteeth and yankee hotel foxtrot: "handshake drugs" is a keeper for the insistent beat and classic jeff tweedy enunciation, but the rest of the album has yet to grow on me.
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