A man stands in the dairy section of the Central Market on North Lamar in Austin, inspecting the inside of a crate of Vital Farms eggs. He is white, middle-aged, Midwestern-born, a married father of two—in other words, a Wilco fan. “Fan” as in “fanatic.” He has attended fifteen concerts at thirteen venues across eight cities in four states over 25 years (and counting); listened to the band’s thirteen studio albums (plus various Jeff Tweedy solo albums and side projects) front to back countless times; read all three of Tweedy’s nonfiction books (including an autographed copy of the latest) and even thumbed through his poetry collection, a true measure of the man’s fandom; and clad his children in Wilco-branded clothing more or less since they were born.And yet,…
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