I love, absolutely love, Wilco for making this song. It lasts 15 minutes, only three of which feature the band. The first few minutes are a soft sadness in slow piano written to the listener about how predictable, how dull they are, that there really is less to them than they think. It sounds like Wilco is breaking up with the audience. Then, as a challenge, the 12 minutes of whirling filter loops and drone begin, like a rolling cloud. This is the point where most listeners will hop off the couch and skip the needle over to the last song and miss the best part and the whole point. Having a moment to both listen to a song that can never be memorized and to get a little quiet time to reflect on what has been heard is truly a great thing. Like in the case of the Elcetrelane song, this is a band that is shifting before the public's view, but more people will wonder when will it end rather than how. This drone usually comes at the end of the album; instead Wilco leaves this space open to wonder about what the last song is and whether it is worth the wait. I'd give away the answer, but I'd rather that you wait the 15 minutes. Spend your time thinking about what the perfect last song would be, how it would go.