In the music business, a sure way to foster interest in an artist (and thus sell records) is to build a mythology?a drama to underscore, if not transcend, the music. Typically, the most expedient way to mythologize oneself is by dying?to which still-robust catalog sales for Jimi Hendrix, Nick Drake and Lynyrd Skynyrd attest. But if an artist wants to stick around to enjoy the fruits of myth, the process is a little trickier.
Last spring, the band Wilco released its fourth full-length album, Yankee Hotel Foxtrot, to a hyperbolic reception from the music press. Rolling Stone called it the “first great album of the millennium.” The Chicago Tribune called it the best album of the year before it was even released. And, in this very publication, I joined in the frenzy. So, why such hyperbole? On one level, it is simply because Yankee Hotel Foxtrot is a fantastic album. Dense and challenging both sonically and lyrically, it’s undoubtedly one of the best albums of this year. But on another level, the story behind the music was just too good for journalists to ignore. After Wilco complete the album, it was rejected by the band’s record label and the band was forced to look elsewhere to release it, and meanwhile, a key band member was asked to leave. In its scope and intricacy, the story is almost cinematic.
Conveniently, they made a movie about it.
Filmmaker Sam Jones approached Wilco in late 2000, before the recording of what would become Yankee Hotel Foxtrot. At this point, the story was considerably less complicated. The band was recording its follow-up to another critically acclaimed record, 2000’s Summerteeth. It would seem Jones simply wanted to capture the making of an important record for the band. As the band’s manager, Tony Margherita, testifies, it’s a huge chance to translate that critical success into more elusive commercial success. An interesting enough premise for a documentary, but as Jones’ film progresses, the documentary stops and the myth-making begins.
Yet the film, titled I Am Trying to Break Your Heart, is not only a marketing coup for the band, but a triumph for Jones, who deftly documents the layers of conflict which shaped the album. The first such conflict is closest to home?the combatants are songwriter Jeff Tweedy, a low-key, likable fellow with a wry sense of humor, but bound to fits of passive-aggression, and bandmate Jay Bennett, a heavy-set, gregarious guy, who talks a lot, but seems to know what he’s talking about. Their personalities are echoed in their respective approaches to nonchalance: Tweedy’s scruffiness, that of a denim jacket and uncombed hair, is effortless, while it seems Bennett, clad in heavy black glasses and long, filthy mane, works hard to achieve his.
Bennett, whose embrace of unorthodox instrumentation is in no small part responsible for Wilco’s critical success, wants to be an equal partner in the band’s creative process, while Tweedy, the main songwriter, sees himself as the band’s leader. Jones’ narrative unfolds from there: In a particularly vivid scene captured during the album’s mixing session, a conflict between Bennett and Tweedy escalates from innocuous bickering to Tweedy walking out of the studio and straight into the restroom, where he vomits on camera.
Meanwhile, external conflict is brewing. Wilco’s label, Reprise Records, decides after hearing the final tapes that changes are needed, a prospect in which the band has no interest. The band is released from its contract and begins to shop the album around. Tweedy eventually asks Bennett to leave. In an interview all too reminiscent of VH1’s Behind the Music, Bennett claims he was ousted because “Jeff was threatened by me.” Soon enough, the band lands a multi-record deal with Nonesuch Records, a label known for the artistic freedom it affords. As for Tweedy’s take on the situation: “I couldn’t be happier.”
The film itself is a major achievement not only for Jones, but for the genre of rock filmmaking in general. This is not a glorified music video?I Am Trying to Break Your Heart is a genuine documentary, produced independently of the band or its label, yet it still offers an incredible amount of access into the band’s creative process. The audience sees recording sessions, concert rehearsals, intimate band meetings and glimpses into the musicians’ personal lives. Jones is a fine documentarian, bringing a keen artistic sense and an impeccable emotional tone to his film. Simple sequences like the opening credits, where Tweedy drives his little car down Chicago’s majestic Lake Shore Drive with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth while the title track quietly plays in the background, strike that tone perfectly. Later, as the band’s lawyer describes why Reprise would drop Wilco, Jones places his monologue under a shot of Tweedy slowly walking alone down an alley as the lawyer says, “[Reprise] doesn’t make any money on this guy.” But that just shouldn’t matter, Jones tells his audience in that sequence?this guy’s about more than money.
Jones does make a few missteps?he too often relies on rock critics for perspective instead of trusting his own filmmaking skills. In addition, we see only a quick glimpse of producer Jim O’Rourke, who remixed the album before its release, and who, by all accounts, is responsible for a great deal of its sonic adventurousness. But otherwise Jones’ camera takes the audience everywhere it would like to go, and while viewers might occasionally wonder how the camera’s presence affected events, those concerns are surprisingly few, given the intimacy of the film’s content. Likewise, the performance footage is uniformly excellent, whether capturing recording sessions, rehearsals or huge outdoor concerts. For those familiar with the final album, the chance to see alternate versions of familiar songs is a treat?particularly an electrified version of “Kamera” and a stripped-down “Ashes of American Flags.” And for those not familiar with the album or Wilco generally, the film is still immensely entertaining, whether from the above-mentioned drama, Tweedy’s comic antics or just a lot of really good music.
But most importantly to Wilco, the film fuels the intrigue surrounding the band. So, in that sense, the real hero turns out to be Margherita, who appears throughout the film and gives the impression he knows exactly what he’s doing?he’s not managing a band as much as he’s building a myth. In an early scene, he builds up the drama, saying on camera that the band’s future depends on the record. Once he sees that the tension between Tweedy and Bennett will provide enough conflict, he steps back. And when Reprise starts to balk, his moral outrage milks that conflict?”This is the ultimate jerking around,” he says of Reprise, as he complains about how marketing is the real reason for the band’s departure. But Margherita knows more about marketing than he lets on?he knows the story will sell far more records than Reprise ever could (which the band’s latest record sales figures wholly support).
And someday, hopefully far in the future, after Wilco has long since broken up, Yankee Hotel Foxtrot will be every bit as popular as Skynryd’s Innyrds, but Jeff Tweedy and company will still be around to collect the royalty checks. And for that, they will have Tony Margherita and Sam Jones to thank.
I Am Trying to Break Your Heart, tonight only at 6, 8, 10 p.m., Visions Cinema, 1927 Florida Ave., N.W.
