When Jeff Tweedy talks, people listen. And if they don't, well, he makes them. Just ask anyone who caught the cantankerous alt-country troubadour's solo show at the Gothic Theatre last February. Dressed in Bob Dylan's beard, Tweedy brooded across the stage with his guitar and harmonica, demanding absolute silence from the crowd. When a few rowdies piped up -- presumably because they were, like, at a concert and, uh, people do tend to get, how you say, a little fucked up -- he simply abandoned the mike, walked to front of the stage and performed a cappella until everyone quieted down to hear him. Arrogant? Yes. Presumptuous? Absolutely. Worth shutting your mouth for? You bet your ass. Tweedy's solo sets are less a performance than they are a confession, and when he's spilling his guts, the Wilco frontman seems to think you should listen. So if you're heading to Lyons this weekend, you'd better pay attention. But don't worry if you forget: Tweedy will be happy to remind you.
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