"Spiders (Kidsmoke)" (Wilco)

You're either in the camp that every note of its sprawling 10 minutes and 46 seconds is hypnotically perfect and integral to the flow of Wilco's A Ghost is Born.  Or you find it painfully repetitious, pretentious, and boring.
You love it or hate it.  There is no middle ground.
The elements are one part Krautrock.  One part Sonic Youth circa "Bull inthe Heather."  One part Brian Eno's early stuff.  And another singular part that only could come from the brain and soul of Jeff Tweedy. 
Lyrically, it's a hard nut to crack.  Tweedy casually tosses off lines about spiders and tax returns and private Michigan beaches between angular gulps and wails of distorted guitar, à la Television's Tom Verlaine, all atop Glenn Kotche's and John Stirratt's locked-in groove.
My best guess, though, is that it's a song about the pains of making Yankee Hotel Foxtrot, the album that preceded A Ghost is Born.  As is documented in Sam Jones's film I Am Trying to Break Your Heart, the process of making Yankee Hotel Foxtrot was a highly creative but extremely uncomfortable affair for the band as a whole.  Tweedy was struggling with panic attacks and stress-fueled, nausea-inducing migraines.  He was constantly butting heads with bandmate Jay Bennett (RIP) over creative decisions in the mixing and editing of the album, which ultimately led to Bennett's firing.  And to cap things off, Wilco's then-label (Reprise) unceremoniously rejected the finished album in 2001 and suddenly dropped the band from its roster, despite years of expressing its supposed support for the group.  The album basically lingered in limbo until 2002, when it finally saw official commercial release by Nonesuch--a sister label of Reprise.
So here's my take: the A&R people, lawyers, accountants, and other dutiful "spiders" were busy doing what was supposedly in the band's best interest.  In the meantime, Tweedy goes along with all of the press junkets and endless days of being carted from one appearance to another, feeling he's being a dutiful "spider" himself, only to get mixed messages about what the label wants and expects from the band creatively.  Then, when the project and band get dumped and everything turns into a pissing contest over legal rights and ownership, he wishes he could simply retreat to his bed and forget it all.  
The final lines of the song "there's no blood on my hands / I just do as I am told" could be from Tweedy's own perspective (I did what I was told to do, I made the album I wanted to make, and I'm not to blame for this mess).  Or, it could be the reaction he was getting from people at the label (I was behind you all the way, man; if it were up to me, you'd still be here).  Or, maybe it's a bit of both.  
All of the bursts of distortion and sudden breakthroughs of the main riff over the relentless rhythm reflect the headaches (literal and figurative) and constant tension of the entire period.  
Yet every few minutes, there's an acknowledgment that all of the frustrations are just "kidsmoke," and there's something suddenly liberating about being cut loose.
"It's good to be alone."
Or something like that.
Listen, and see what you think.