When Wilco announced the upcoming release of their album Cruel Country in late April 2022, it immediately generated a lot of excitement from a part of their fan base that hadn't been heard from much in a while. In the initial press releases on the LP, Jeff Tweedy described it as a country album, exciting news for the folks who had been following the band since their earliest days as Tweedy's post-Uncle Tupelo project, and had felt disappointed since their audible twang essentially disappeared with 1999's Summerteeth. But anyone hoping Cruel Country was going to take Wilco back to the rollicking alt-country sound of 1995's A.M. or 1996's Being There needs to adjust their expectations. Though Cruel Country is indeed the most "country" album Wilco have delivered in over 20 years, it's not "country" in the way they sounded in the mid-'90s. Instead, this is mostly acoustic country-inspired music merged with folk and filtered through the sort of musical and lyrical impressionism that became Tweedy's worldview since he developed a voice fully separate from the other guy who co-founded Uncle Tupelo. (In its emphasis on ambience and occasional washes of electronic soundscapes, this is as much Yankee Hotel Foxtrot as Being There.) Cruel Country marks the first time in several years circumstances permitted Wilco to record together live in the same room, and the performances have the subtle but very human feel of six people sitting in a circle and reacting in the moment to one another's ideas and energy. Some think of Wilco as Jeff Tweedy and whoever else he brings along (and his status as uncontested leader is well established), but the best moments on Cruel Country show how much more they truly are. On longer cuts like "Bird Without a Tail/Base of My Skull" and "Many Words," hearing the musicians stretch out and weave their performances around one another is quietly dazzling, especially Nels Cline's steel guitar and Pat Sansone and Mikael Jorgensen's keyboards. There's very little flash in this music, but there's a warmth and excitement in the process of creation that's deeply satisfying, even joyous. Lyrically, Cruel Country is very much an album about America, written with an eye toward the nation's collective history as well as the division of the 2020s, and when Tweedy sings, "I love my country/Stupid and cruel," he makes it clear that as much as the second part troubles him, the first part isn't irony. While 2015's Star Wars, 2016's Schmilco, and 2019's Ode to Joy were all fine in their own ways, they often had the feel of a band throwing a bunch of ideas at the wall and seeing what would stick (and this is a band good enough to get away with that). Cruel Country, however, feels as unified and well plotted as anything in Wilco's catalog, and it's deeply moving, powerfully heartfelt music from a handful of gifted players serving their songs beautifully. ~ Mark Deming