I'm constantly trying to re-invent my concert-going experience. I've never really had a particular ritual, but finding new ways to dig, without getting too abstract, can be tough. I always liked Uncle Tupelo, and its spin-offs, Wilco and Son Volt. I think initially I was more on the Son Volt side of the street, if for nothing more than the anger in the guitars. But with Wilco, you could hear something epic brewing; a band that needed to be around long enough to get what was in, out.

But instead of digging out the Wilco discs I had buried somewhere, I kept myself in the dark until show time Saturday night, opting to catch the concert as a body of work, a moment in time, rather than wait for my pre-approved and chosen favorites. Well, it worked. I was blown away - and so was the sold-out crowd. Rochester loves its Americana.

Let's start with the sound. I've heard some of the worst shows at the Auditorium Theatre from bands that simply overpower the room. However, Wilco filled the room majestically with dynamics and depth.

And I got two words for you: Nels Cline. Ho-ly shit. Cline's lead guitar made the night for me as he shifted from soundscapes and shades to full-throttle alt-country twang that busted cobwebs in the farthest reaches of the joint. This cat was incredible. I was enthralled.

And though I kept a soft focus throughout, a few gems stuck out for me, particularly "I Am Trying To Break Your Heart" and "Handshake Drugs." It was fun to listen to the show orchestrally, as though it was one body of work. And Wilco is the perfect band to pull it off.

Why can't we call this pop?