Tuesday night’s show was typical Wilco; by now I’m not sure there’s much left to say beyond a few beautiful Nels Cline solos that recalled Tom Verlaine with Television. I have only seen this incarnation of Wilco at festival shows, though, and its intense loud/quiet and melodic/dissonant moves sounded so extreme that the felt like musical stunts. As a result, there were times when the shlemeil Jeff Tweedy wore the band like an oversized trenchcoat. Last night and indoors, everything seemed more organic and less extreme, making Tweedy once again the focal point, as opposed to simply the guy who set the agenda.