Psychedelic is not the only unlikely genre that Wilco managed to artfully capture. The band seemed to feel as comfortable in the easygoing folk of “Airline to Heaven” and “Forget the Flowers” as they did thrashing out the final, pounding notes of the southern-rock inspired “Kingpin.” During the folkier songs, front man Jeff Tweedy strummed virtually unaccompanied while the band happily bobbed their head and shook around various percussion instruments onstage.

During these flashes of folk mentality, the light show gave way to a more mellow bath of orange-yellow light on the stage—a much more organic look that was reminiscent of something out of The Last Waltz, the iconic Martin Scorsese film documenting the final performance of The Band. Indeed, given their ability to perform across genres while still maintaining a distinct and cohesive sound, drawing a comparison with The Band is not unwarranted. And to look at them onstage, sporting 21st century hipster attire—from the ripped form-fitting jeans to the plaid shirts with oversized collars—they would have been just as comfortable on stage in 1978—the year The Last Waltz was released—as they did last Thursday.

A rocking rendition of “I’m The Man Who Loves You” preceded the set closer, “Via Chicago,” yet another example of a beautiful ballad that erupted into an explosive concoction of sizzling guitars, thumping floor-toms and a wash of cymbals. The song made it strikingly clear that the band’s ability to do this thing that they do is largely reliant on the interesting, creative, and technically masterful talents of Glenn Kotche, Wilco’s standout drummer, who seemed to sock away all that energy he didn’t use during the quieter moments and then just burst when he was called upon to carry the band into high gear.

The first set of encores included a bevy of rockers, including “War on War,” the danceable upbeat ditty from Yankee Hotel Foxtrot, “The Late Greats,” a fun three-chord homage to a band that was too good for the radio, and the monster southern rocker “Kingpin,” which appears on the album Being There as more of a twangy country number, but which in their live performances turns into a slide guitar driven, heavy riffing animal. During this tune, the band broke it down while Tweedy did a little chattering with the crowd. He told us he was glad to be in Washington, because our city “has all the best shit in the world.” He went on to explain what all that “shit” is, including gorgeous architecture and prolific history, and then lamented the fact that all those beautiful building are filled with “terrible people.” He concluded that we’ve got both “all the best shit and all the worst shit in the world.” The crowd was jubilant, and the closing licks were so searing that, when the band walked off stage after it, I didn’t expect them to return.

As it turns out, they did return, to the crowds immeasurably glee, for yet another set of encores. They started off with a Randy Newman cover called “Political Science,” a song Tweedy claimed they “have to do in Washington,” which, tongue planted firmly in cheek, advocates the United States launching nuclear strikes on every country in the world except Australia. They followed that up with the spirited “Heavy Metal Drummer,” one of their more pop-oriented tunes backed by a flurry of electronic drumming, that most audience members considered three minutes of heaven. They closed the set with “Misunderstood,” a recollection of adolescence that, characteristically, started softly and worked it’s way into a frenzy. It wasn’t so much a punctuation mark on the set as it was a reiteration of the theme.

If the arc of their songwriting is reflected in the larger arc of their live performances, then I hope that is, in turn, reflected in the still larger arc of their career—one that steadily builds to an ever more impressive climax. There might be an aspect of Tweedy’s songwriting that’s predictable. And in other hands, that might be frustrating. But the precision of his lyrics, the passion in his voice—one of the best in rock and roll—and his prolific creation of fantastic melodies—almost superhuman by today’s standards—simply make him a standout among his peers. Those qualities alone would have given Tweedy a great career as a folkie doing a solo act. But he’s backed by a band that helps him to flesh out his ideas into something that goes well beyond an acoustic bard—into the realms of rockstardom. -Ryan Chiachiere

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Tags: Wilco, 9:30 Club