Wilco, “Cousin.”

The best compliment for a new Wilco record is saying you can’t wait for bedtime to lay in a dark room with headphones, soaking up the misery and patchy optimism in songs with unpredictable paths.

A Wilco album hasn’t been that inspiring since 2007, when the Midwestern alt-country (remember when they were alt-country?) pioneers released the third album of an epic run of creativity, Sky Blue Sky.

Since then, there’s been moments, but … no one can really expect them to go back to being America’s Radiohead (to be fair, Radiohead isn’t the U.K.’s Wilco anymore, either).

But Wilco’s new album, Cousin, is as close to an emotional, musically twisting, piece of art that Jeff Tweedy and the guys have made since 2007.

It sounds like they’re taking risks again. Which was how they went from very good to great all those years ago.

Is it because the band decided to use a real outside producer since 2007 (Welsh artist Cate Le Bon)? Or are they using an outside producer for the first time since 2007 because they finally have the songs and are of the mind to get back to the layered, emotional, non-denominational approach that made Wilco a contender for best band on the planet back in the aughts?

Either way, it’s a very good record.

It’s obvious something has changed all of 30 seconds into album opener “Infinite Surprise.” Tweedy is almost cheerily singing “It’s good to know we die” toward the end. The instrumentation is varied and sounds like it’s once again a band that, at its best, played only by its own rules, whims and inspiration. Melody and noise are again slugging it out with positive results.

Tweedy opens “Ten Dead,” a response to gun violence in America, by singing, “I woke up this morning and I went back to bed.” He’s listening to the radio, he’s tired when he gets up, and he’s tired by the time the day ends.

His mood sets a contrast of dark and hope at the same time. Tweedy is a master of setting a mood for listeners to feel, while delivering lyrics straight-toned, as calm as the eye of a hurricane. Just as long as the musical hurricane is going on around him. Though this isn’t chaotic, it builds with purpose. Then it just sort of disappears, which is perfect.

On “Levee,” Tweedy sings with strained emotion while talking about loving to take his meds like his doctor says, but wonders if it’s too much. Again with the weird paradox: Do we really need poor Jeff Tweedy to sound like he’s suffering to enjoy his music? Though he always sounds like he’s outside himself, observing that version of Jeff Tweedy in pain. Maybe that helps. As does the thick moody guitar playing from Nels Cline, perhaps the most underrated guitarist in rock (at least to casual fans, musicians know).

The band goes back a bit for a little twang on “Evicted,” with more spacious guitar beautifully produced and a solid chorus.

“Sunlight Ends” is Wilco keeping the tone warm while plinking and plunking around with the song’s direction. It’s a wonderfully strange combination, and the guitar production is just glorious.

“A Bowl and a Pudding” is just relentless mood. Then it builds as the band waits for the right time to lift and change the song. It might be just one instrument or one little structure change, but the players know it, and their confidence shows.

Title track “Cousin” takes a bit more patience. Though as Tweedy sings about it never hurting to cry, his band sneaks up on listeners by raising the volume and power. Then it peaks and ends, making you want more.

“Pittsburgh” is peak 2023 Wilco, with a beautiful acoustic beginning that suddenly shifts sonically, like watching weather build and change. The band plays so well together the way it controls the noise, until drummer Glenn Kotche steers it into a strangely fitting beat documenting what sounds like a struggling man slowly walking down the street with one foot in a watery gutter.

“Soldier Child” is another masterfully thick production of guitars and keys that end up sounding like a soundtrack of a more thoughtful spaghetti Western, especially once the lead guitar kicks in. “Meant to Be” is an uplifting album ender that, again, almost sounds like music tracked over a Western. It has a certain epic feel to it, which Wilco has evolved into doing without songs needing to be overly long.

If there’s anything missing from what seems to be a return to form for Wilco is the quirkiness and fun of songs like “Heavy Metal Drummer” and “Walken.” And, of course, expecting them to equal the musical greatness from that half-decade or so just isn’t realistic. But it barely matters. Cousin is the closest the band has come to greatness in a while, and it should be much appreciated.

Follow music critic Tony Hicks at Twitter.com/TonyBaloney1967.