Wilco – “Venus Stop the Train”

“The light, the light, the light striking terror.”

Before being fired from Wilco in 2001, Jay Bennett was the manic foil to frontman Jeff Tweedy’s melancholy persona. The collaborations between Bennett and Tweedy are scattered throughout a four album legacy in the Wilco catalogue, beginning with the earnest and heavy hitting A.M. and ending in the midst of the cacophonous swirls of distortion and noise on the Wilco magnum opus Yankee Hotel Foxtrot. But some of the most poignant and truly beautiful material that Bennett and Tweedy created together has been relegated to the annals of the Wilco archive, never appearing on any official releases.

“Venus Stop the Train” – an unused demo from the YHF recordings – is a prime example of this lost magic. It’s a true collaboration between the two musical behemoths, following in the tradition of Lennon/McCartney. With Bennett on piano and Tweedy singing, it begins in an ominous fashion with the sound of canned thunder giving ‘way to a simple and repetitive piano part. Tweedy’s vocal is characteristically timid and desperate, contrasted by the lush backup vocals (hear them first at 1:58) – a combination of Tweedy’s, Bennett’s, and bassist John Stirrat’s best falsettos.

But the best part (for a true Jay Bennett fan) comes toward the end. What has been a predominantly solo vocal performance gains another dimension with Bennett’s voice at 3:52 taking the lead – if only briefly. In a way, it sums up the songwriting dynamic within the group at that time. The piano line is almost certainly Bennett’s; the vocal and lyrics Tweedy’s. But when they come together, it’s truly magical. “Venus Stop the Train” serves as a lasting epitaph for their relationship and an era of music the likes of which comes all too infrequently.

Bennett died in his sleep on May 24, 2009 from an accidental overdose of fentanyl, a prescription pain killer. I remember receiving the news of his passing. It was a stunning discovery that left me at first hopeless but later celebrating Bennett’s amazing catalogue of work over several glasses of scotch, a record player, an acoustic guitar, and close friends.