Wilco was more than perfect. As Sarah Black said, "Don't touch me. I've been in the same room as God in rock form. I might be emitting some kind of radiation." It's the best concert I've ever been to (which may not be saying as much as I'd like it to -- I think the grand total is somewhere around fifteen). I can't say I've ever cared to read synopses of concerts, however personal, but after last night I understand why people write them. Forgive me.

They played everything I wanted them to. More, even. Carolyn and I had suspected that might be the case -- there's a live performance they recorded in Chicago and put on their website that we'd been listening to. Mr. Flynn saw them once, and he said that their live performance didn't differ much from the studio recordings, which he found disappointing. I guess that's true, but it doesn't mean I enjoyed myself any less.

The venue: the Alabama. Check out that link and take the virtual tour for yourself -- you can imagine how such a beautiful place can contribute to the impact of a live show.

When the lights went down and the band came out, Jeff Tweedy stepped up to his microphone and I got chillbumps. There's nothing quite like experiencing the roar of a devoted crowd, especially when the applause for the opening band was so minimal in comparison. The whole theatre was packed -- every seat filled to the very last row. It was Grammy night, and the band chose to play in Birmingham rather than go to the show. It was the first time they'd played here in eight years. Jeff made some comments after the first few songs; they'd won both Grammy's that they were nominated for. In general he was really spare with his comments. There were no extended, tangental stories that had nothing to with the songs themselves, which I find I somewhat prefer. If anything, it adds to his mystique.

"Hummingbird" and "Muzzle of Bees" were back to back in the setlist, and I nearly exploded. Carolyn and I kept squealing at each other as we recognized the opening chords of each song. I would even go as far to say that we swooned. Carolyn took notes, and true to form, as she started writing I pulled the pen from her hand, shook my head, and gave her my best Penny Lane face. I promptly returned it, however, which is how we ended up with the set list for the evening:

Alabama Theater 2-13-05: WILCO
1. "Late Greats"
2. "Theologians"
3. "Poor Places"
4. "Hummingbird"
5. "Muzzle of Bees"
6. "I’m Always in Love"
7. "At Least That’s What You Said"
8. "Jesus, etc."
9. "Via Chicago"
10. "Another Man’s Done Gone"
11. "Ashes of American Flags"
12. "Heavy Metal Drummer"
13. "I’m the Man Who Loves You"
14. "I Am Trying to Break Your Heart"
15. "Handshake Drugs"
16. "Shot in the Arm"
17. "Misunderstood"
18. "Kingpin"
19. "Passenger Side"
20. "California Stars"
21. "Kidsmoke"
22. "I’m a Wheel"
23. "Political Science" (Randy Newman cover)
24. "Something in the Air" (Thunderclap Newman cover)

("Passenger Side" was the beginning of the encores, I think.)

If I exploded during and/or between "Hummingbird" and "Muzzle of Bees," you can imagine the combustion that occurred with the first few chords of the last song. I've been completely enamored with it for some time, and the fact that Carolyn and I get so caught up in our Almost Famous moments without the soundtrack, you can imagine how hopeless I was at that point. I screamed and yelled and swooned as loud and as hard as I could as they left the stage, after we'd seen the last of Jeff's face in reds and blues and purple light. I have a new crush on the drummer.

The lights came up and I was exhausted and I didn't feel real. The crowd filtered out of the theatre (I was telling Carolyn how attractive Wilco fans were, to which she replied, "I dunno, have you seen row H?" I looked across the aisle at three obese men spilling out of their chairs. "Besides row H." I'd say that one in five male fans had facial hair, which 70% of the time was attractive). The lights came up and all the crew started striking the stage. Towers of trunks (exactly like the one on their website) were stacked behind the curtain, and Carolyn and I watched. Ten minutes passed as we sat in our contemplative state -- the same way you sit in a theater as it empties and the credits roll.

When the security guard shooed us out, we went into the lobby and looked at tshirts we couldn't afford before walking to my car in the rain.

All of my future concerts have a lot to live up to, and I find myself wondering if I'll ever attend another with such a perfect last song.