He is trying to break our hearts

"I kept seeing them leave a lot more radio-friendly stuff by the wayside," recalls Sam Jones, who chronicled the band in his acclaimed 2002 documentary, "I Am Trying to Break Your Heart." "I was incredulous at first. I finally realized that Jeff doesn't care. He just doesn't have it in him. All he really wants to be allowed to do is make records."

Tweedy, an introvert who battles a laundry list of personal demons, has led three musical careers: Uncle Tupelo, Wilco and what we might call Wilco II. Tweedy's band today bears very little resemblance to the one that came careening out of the Uncle Tupelo split in 1994. Back then the band was still firmly rooted in swinging, pop-filled Midwestern American rock. The Wilco that powered 1995's "A.M." as well as 1998's "Mermaid Avenue," and the 2000 follow-up "Mermaid Avenue II" (both built around thoroughly modern workings of unearthed Woody Guthrie material), is now gone.

Wilco II, featuring new players, has morphed into something else entirely. Something more thoughtful, more complicated and compelling; an American answer to Radiohead, as the cliché goes. Fans of the original Wilco might respond that it's also something too precious and earnest, something that flirts with a certain soullessness, a skillful detachment that Tweedy has constructed in the studio. There can be no question that Tweedy is a more accomplished and daring songwriter today than he was 10 years ago; R.E.M.'s Peter Buck calls Tweedy, "one of the best songwriters of his generation." But is Wilco a better band?

Undoubtedly some enthusiasts have matured musically with Tweedy through every step of his two-decade musical journey. But my guess is not that many of those original Uncle Tupelo and early Wilco fans, itching for a taste of steel guitar, are still onboard for the Wilco II ride and Tweedy's penchant for hushed, mournful lullabies. Or that, conversely, the band's new generation of converts find all that much of interest in Tweedy's back catalog of songs about screen doors, moonshiners, and Acuff-Rose.

That gap is only likely to widen with the release last Tuesday of Wilco's fifth album, "A Ghost Is Born." At times purposefully inaccessible, with actual song choruses often hard to uncover, the withdrawn sound of "A Ghost Is Born" sometimes makes the laid-back "Yankee Hotel Foxtrot" seem positively Springsteen-esque in comparison.

Kot's compelling book paints a vivid portrait for both past and present Tweedy fans. For the uninitiated, Kot, a music writer for the Chicago Tribune, offers up an engaging guide through today's rock landscape, detailing both the personal and professional pressures Tweedy has faced while steering Wilco.

There's something strange, though, in reading such a detailed and serious account of Tweedy's musical career, when you consider that by today's record industry standards it's essentially been a commercial bust. Uncle Tupelo enjoyed a sterling, almost mythic, reputation, one that far outstripped its capacity to make money. And while critical acclaim has only ballooned for Wilco, the band's SoundScan numbers remain underwhelming. Its only real hit, "Yankee Hotel Foxtrot," has sold roughly a half million copies, or what Usher, today's R&B king, could probably sell on a really good weekend. (Unlike Usher, however, Tweedy has essentially been locked out of commercial radio.)

Meanwhile, the band's been the subject of not one, but two documentaries. (Along with "I Am Trying to Break Your Heart," there was 2001's "Man in the Sand," which chronicled the making of "Mermaid Avenue," a co-venture with British folk singer Billy Bragg.) The national hand-wringing that took place in the music press over Reprise's decision to part ways with Wilco at times seemed a bit over the top. And my hunch is "A Ghost Is Born" will receive reviews far more glowing than the uneven album deserves.

So there's a temptation to complain that the Wilco myth-making has gone too far. But when you survey America's tattered rock landscape today and see how few bands have sustained their careers, and how fewer still take musical chances the way Tweedy has with Uncle Tupelo and Wilco, the attention, and specifically that provided by Kot's book, represents a welcome appreciation.

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