Weekend Jam / Midwestern Sarcasm

Midwestern sarcasm when it's done correctly can be a thing of rare beauty. It's like performance art

Everywhere else in the world you can identify sarcasm if you're paying attention

Even if the hostility isn't overt you can read the signs

They'll be slightly elongated syllables or a pitch that's just a little off. It's like a trombone player with a plunger head

There's that slight "wah-wah" tone bending to let you know not to take this too seriously.

Midwestern sarcasm plays it straight and makes you listen more closely.

You have to treat every conversation like a safe cracker.

Unless your ears have been trained to recognize it, you'll miss the hint of a minor key.

Sometimes you don't realize what's happening until hours later,

when it's 3 a.m. and you're half asleep and it suddenly hits you.

"Aw, crap, they didn't mean any of that, did they?"

Midwestern sarcasm becomes even more deadly when it's combined with small-town isolationism.

These women had been cheerleaders at our high school.

They weren't indie rock aficionados.

And Wilco isn't exactly a household name, so on the one hand, it wasn't surprising

that they hadn't followed every turn in my career.

It's shocking that they even remembered I played music at all.

Then again, we're all from Belleville, which has never been a hotbed of cultural activity.

This is a town where everybody knows who's cheating on who, and who's been out of work,

and whose kids have DUIs.

Anybody from a small town knows what this is like.

Your business is everybody else's business.

If you leave for a while and come back, even for a short visit, the never-left locals will

ask you, "What have you been up to?"

But of course, they already know.

It's been discussed and debated from the moment you first crossed the river.

Not being around to defend yourself means you're fair game for gossip.