Just as grumbling about Warner/Reprise's initial abandonment of Wilco's Yankee Hotel Foxtrot elevated a serviceable album's worth of psychedelic folk Americana into an industry rallying call and Lost Masterpiece, so grassroots indignation brought wider attention to a documentary that's largely an artifact for fans. Jones lends plenty of screen time to the band driving around, noodling in the studio, soundchecking, and so on. The film is most effective, however, as a poison pen missive to Corporate Rock, relishing the absurdity of a behemoth that ditches a critical darling only to buy them back at three times the price. JWin.
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