PicoBlog

I’m not sure if it’s uncouth to publicly air the grievances someone made concerning a Wilco song that were made in the safety and confines of a Wilco fan group. The better question is to ask, will anyone besides said Wilco fan group members care? I assume not nearly to the degree that I, or members of “A Shot in the Arm” do, but it does beg the general music fan questions that follow:

What song or songs…or even entire bands that you are familiar with create divided loyalties? How do you defend them if you feel the need to? Have you ever been in a position of disliking a song or band that everyone else seems to love? What happened? I’m genuinely curious, so I’d love to get some comments!

The song I’m defending today, “California Stars”, is a Wilco song with an asterisk, as the words are those of Woody Guthrie. Here’s the backstory in case you’re unfamiliar:

Woody Guthrie, Dust Bowl balladeer, singer of union anthems, rider of boxcars, whose guitar had the message, “This Machine Kills Fascists” affixed to it, left behind an archive of unused lyrics that his descendants thankfully preserved in hopes of allowing an artist or artists a chance to develop the lyrics into fully formed songs. Bob Dylan, who was a devotee of Guthrie especially in his early career, was apparently alerted to the existence of a boxful of lyrics by Guthrie himself before passing away in the late ‘60s. Allegedly the story goes that Dylan went to see Guthrie’s widow about the box, but she wasn’t home and neither Arlo nor the babysitter who was present knew anything about the box. Bob apparently left it at that and the lyrics remained untouched.

So in the mid ‘90s, Guthrie’s daughter Nora reached out to English singer-songwriter Billy Bragg, who then reached out to Wilco to assist on the project. Initially Wilco was a bit reluctant because they were just starting to shed their “Americana” image with the release of their album Being There, which was more rock-forward/experimental than their debut album AM. Wilco did sign on though and the album, named Mermaid Avenue would go on to win a Grammy and would be followed up with a second volume soon after.

Wilco still plays a few of the Mermaid Avenue tracks at live shows: “Airline to Heaven”, “Hesitating Beauty”, and most commonly, the aforementioned subject of this faux-controversy, “California Stars”.

The song is a folk song at heart. Simple chords, simple lyrics, and easy to sing along to. It’s a bit repetitive. There aren’t a ton of lyrics. In fact if you’ve never heard the song, go ahead and take a break from reading and give it a listen (linked above). I’ll wait here patiently.

Nice song, right? It has that ear worm quality where it’s now likely to be stuck in your head for awhile. You’re welcome. Trust me, I’m not currently listening to it and it’s stuck in mine. I don’t mind.

I think the criticism that was made on the Wilco group was perhaps it’s too much of a part of their setlist. I think something was said to the effect of, “If I never have to hear “California Stars” again, I’d be fine.”

They do play it a lot. It’s a common encore at both Wilco shows and Jeff Tweedy’s solo shows. So I suppose you can’t argue with the overplayed angle. Doesn’t mean I have to agree, of course!

It’s not a Wilco song that I commonly seek out, but I’m happy when I hear it. It’s a joyful sing-a-long every time. And I think it’s made even more powerful by the knowledge it came from Woody Guthrie, who is one of the most important folk singers of all time and quite possibly one of the most important Americans of the 20th Century.

The song is aspirational. “I’d like to rest my heavy head tonight on a bed of California Stars.” It’s not saying, “I will rest,” but rather would like to. Will California Stars help usher in that rest? Is it an optimistic plea or is it a statement that is said with full knowledge that rest is unlikely to arrive?

An interesting detail about the phrase “California Stars” is that it is a quilting pattern, but it’s maybe not quite as satisfying to think that the lyrics just refer to the quilt. Sure, maybe it’s meaningful and maybe it’s a quilt that he once shared with another. Maybe it’s all he has…the quilts and the dreams that it helps usher in, or frustratingly still can’t.

But then there’s California itself. The land of symbolic hope for so many Americans past and present. Dreams come true in California, right? Well, at least that’s what their tourism department keeps telling people. The reality is always a bit more complicated. But if you say it enough, you start to believe it. The song is repetitive because maybe it’s a mantra. It’s an attempt at manifesting the dreams of a place, a person, of peace itself. Or maybe it’s just a plea for a good night’s sleep.

No, “California Stars” is not the most complicated. It’s not experimental in the least. It’s repetitive. But it belongs to those who, though weary, still want to dream and want to believe in something. And ultimately I do believe it’s said in earnest appreciation of simplicity and hope. Even if it’s the simplicity of a cozy quilt.

Woody’s contemporary and old friend Pete Seeger, who lived many decades longer than Woody, had a profound belief that songs should be sung together. He believed in the transformative power of communal singing. He believed that all can and should sing. When I hear a crowd of fellow Wilco fans belting out the words to this song, I think of peacemakers and hopeful souls like Pete Seeger. I think of the revolutionary humanism of Woody Guthrie. I think of the line that runs through American song and how these songs tell our stories, affirm our commonality and celebrate our differences. I love “California Stars” for all that it says and implies without having to say much at all. It aspires to be what you want it to be…what you need it to be. What is the dream? Who is the dream about? What makes you weary and what soothes your weary head? That’s all up to you in a way. But it feels good to know that all those people singing around you and with you are trying to figure those things out too. And sometimes when the voices come together just right, there’s a moment, maybe a flicker of a hint of a moment, where you sense the answers and might just feel that there’s a chance of things being okay. If not, there’s always another night and another dream under the hopeful comforts of an old familiar quilt.

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