In the annals of “You’re an asshole but I love you anyway and I’d rather feel this pain than be without you” songs, Joni Mitchell’s “A Case Of You” is the gold standard. It positions alcohol as the perfect metaphor for a turbulent romance—intoxicating, sexy and ultimately sickening. Fans of Mitchell’s brilliant, heartbreaking ode will eagerly drink up The Reminder, the much-anticipated second album from Canadian singer/songwriter Leslie Feist. Practically every track features a narrator that’s frantically bailing water from a sinking ship, clutching to hopes and promises as the water fills her lungs. “My moon and me/Not as good as we’ve been/It’s the dirtiest clean I know,” she sings over the darkly jaunty piano of “My Moon My Man.” The Reminder is full of this simple, tragic language; even the occasional forays into oxymoronic wordplay don’t lose this sense of directness (besides “the dirtiest clean,” there’s “The truth lies” and “So much past inside my present”). The result is a very self-obsessed record that manages to avoid sounding whiny or maudlin. It helps that Feist sings every note in her simple whisper of a voice, never resorting to the over-emotive yodel—a crutch that the most obnoxious female singers love to pull out.

As has happened with the previous two Wilco records, the band’s latest is actually just hitting the shelves but has already been listened to, dissected and scrutinized for months. For anyone with an internet connection and an interest, the record has been there for the taking due to renegade download sites and file sharing. So there’s been a serious din about Sky Blue Sky taking a break from the band’s usual experimentation—be it Tweedy’s spiraling lyrical abstractions or the free, changeful arrangements ushered in with the help of personnel like drummer Glenn Kotche—in favor of a return to their original country rock trajectory. That’s a laugh! There is a directness to Tweedy’s style here that hasn’t been felt (arguably) since the sophomore breakthrough Being There. The title track on Sky Blue Sky could be a sister track to Being There’s “Far, Far Away,” with a familiar melody and the not too distant whine of a pedal steel. Still, this ain’t alt.country by a long shot, for as much as there’s a sense of straight lyricism, Tweedy hasn’t entirely forsaken the oblique poetics that have become his calling card. This is a dark record that pings with the kind of pain born out of self-doubt, desperation and isolation. The sadsack lament of “Hate It Here” sounds like Stax meets Steely Dan. The Dan comparison is apt not just for Nels Cline’s pristine, Walter Becker-like guitar work—a tone and texture that pops up frequently here—but also for Pat Sansone and Mikhail Jorgenson’s dueling keys matched by Tweedy’s sly, Donald Fagen-worthy wit as he plays up the luckless loser narrative. “Shake It Off” is a winding, layered powerhouse that takes several listens to fully appreciate its meticulousness and dynamism. It’s not all precision, ‘70s jazz-pop and downhearted feelings here: Wilco’s strength has lain in being an organic band, whatever sonic palate du jour they might be toying with. There is plenty of jubilation in the Band-esque “Walkin,” and a couple other tracks delve into spirituality and the self. The serene and folky ballad “What Light” and the gentle “You Are My Face” amble into a funky jaunt yet also grapple with existential loneliness. The best about Wilco circa now coalesces on “Side With The Seeds,” as Tweedy’s lyrics evoke nature’s mystery. The band finds magic as a crepuscular piano line blends with Cline’s frantically picked, bubbling lead guitar, while Kotche finds a tempered beat alongside John Stiratt’s ever steady bass that builds into an orchestra of reaching sound. This is Wilco at its finest, with one foot rooted in tradition but challenging itself and doing something that sounds like nothing else. This is the hallmark of Sky Blue Sky, a gentle beauty with all the character and continued evolution that has always been paramount to one of one America’s greatest bands.