Just ask the Clash. It’s a lot of pressure being the Only Band That Matters. For those punk pioneers, the strain proved too much. But Wilco—one the most critically gushed-over groups of the past decade—is handling its responsibilities with surpassing grace.

After surviving the expulsion of long-time co-leader Jay Bennett (who was in a legal struggle with Wilco when he overdosed on painkillers in 2009), Jeff Tweedy’s Chicago-based outfit flourished this decade with a new, improved front line focusing on the tasty peregrinations of guitar wiz Nels Cline. After a three-punch knockout delivered by the sequential releases of Yankee Hotel Foxtrot, A Ghost Is Born, and Sky Blue Sky, as well as a killer live CD called Kicking Television, it shouldn’t shock that 2009’s Wilco triggered the least wildly enthusiastic response of the band’s 16-year career.

“With every new record,” says bassist John Stirratt, calling from Wilco Central in Chicago, “the blogosphere is more in your face with its opinions. We used to have to wait for reviews. But I think we learned early on that disappointing some fans is part of the process. You just hope that you pull more people on than you lose each time.”

He’s in an excellent position to know. Besides the recently cleaned-up leader, he’s the only remnant of the founding lineup, and he thumped alongside Tweedy in the pioneering Uncle Tupelo.

“We went through this, in small ways, over the years, with Tupelo and the first few Wilco albums. It taught us a pretty good lesson that, at the end of the day, you simply have to make music that you enjoy, and that others will come along for the ride if you are lucky.

“I think now people are looking to us for a real stance on every record. From the critical standpoint, we’ve started to wonder how carefully journalists really listen to the albums when they first come out. Have you ever noticed how many reviews seem to focus on the first two or three songs?”

If Wilco has been knocked for being only an excellent refinement, rather than a mind-blowing breakthrough, the band’s recent DVD, Ashes of American Flags, is arguably one of the best concert films ever. It’s also a nifty encapsulation of the group’s basic set list in recent years (and how could we live without “Handshake Drugs” or “Impossible Germany”?), spread out over a number of U.S. cities, with quirky travel footage and insightful commentary along the way.

“Because I play with the band, I suppose I was slightly more interested in the peripheral aspects of the film,” Stirratt muses. “The settings and the little touches along the way really meant a lot to me, with visits to the parts of cities that everyone forgets. Plus those sunrise moments on the bus, which we don’t really encounter that much anymore. We don’t stay up all night like we used to!”