07/21/03 Chicago, IL, Abbey Pub

w/ M. Ward, Head of Femur

[review]

Popmatters Review

RILO KILEY
21 July 2003: Abbey Pub — Chicago

by Andy Rathbun
PopMatters Music Critic

There are no stock cars here. A surgically precise pit crew will not change
four tires in 28 seconds. Remembrances of Dale Earnhardt shall be postponed.

To put it plainly: this is not F1 racing. This is a rock show at the
Abbey Pub in Chicago. That doesn't keep Rilo Kiley founding member
Blake Sennet from donning racing duds during the band's July 21 show,
however.

Normally, of course, Rilo Kiley does not get NASCAR-themed press. No,
most journalists instead turn their focus on the group's other
founding member, Jenny Lewis, and her Hollywood connection. Like
Christina and Britney before her, Lewis was a child star.
Well, "star" is perhaps a slight exaggeration; she did play Ben's
first kiss on Growing Pains, though.

Unlike Christina, Lewis avoided the pull of Orlando, instead opting
for L.A. After teaming with Sennet, the two released a quiet little
album on Barsuk Records (2001's Take-Offs and Landings). One year
later the band returned with a slightly souped-up sound, releasing
their sophomore record The Execution of All Things on one of the
hippest labels in the land, Omaha-based Saddle Creek (also home to
Bright Eyes and the Faint). Ever since, the band has been on a steady
rise, receiving promising attention in Entertainment Weekly and
Rolling Stone for their Americana-infused tunes and restrained
beauty.

The attention has not particularly affected the band, though. Tonight
at the Abbey, they seem shocked by the ardent screams of their fans,
but, perhaps thanks to Lewis' past brushes with celebrity, good-
naturedly so. With a mix of L.A. cool and Midwestern heart, Rilo
Kiley inspires its fervent fan base. The Abbey is packed tight and
sweaty, the crowd standing in the thick heat, oblivious to the
temperature during the band's almost hour and a half set.

The loyalty of the band's fans also explains that aforementioned
racing suit. According to the guitarist (who could be a stunt double
for Crispin Glover), a Minneapolis fan approached them at their last
show. Explaining that he owned an F1 racer, and noting that it was
emblazoned with the Rilo Kiley name, he handed the group a bright red
starter suit with the words "Exhaustion Girl" on its back and "Rilo
Kiley" on its breast.

While Sennet waits until the encore to actually climb into the suit,
and while the Abbey Pub is by this point almost unbearably hot, he
still pulls the stifling fireproof bodysuit onto his tiny frame. He
is, as he explains with a smile, already red hot.

He's not the only one, though. Here, two words must be said of Jenny
Lewis: Oh my!

Maybe that doesn't properly sum it up. Let's try again.

When one crowd member repeatedly yells, "I love you!," guys nod their
heads in agreement. Dressed in a tight black shirt and spandex, with
a short red skirt cutting a bright swath across her middle, Lewis
looks more like a modern day Demeter than a LA rocker. It's not only
that she's a natural beauty, however; during Rilo Kiley's set, she
plays guitar and bass, a harmonica, some maracas, the vibraphone, and
a handheld Casio keyboard. And sings lead (quite beautifully) on all
but two songs.

Again, this time in three words: My oh my!

Lewis emotes in every way possible. During "The Good That Won't Come
Out", she seems on the cusp of crying jags, launching verses with a
cannonball's force, singing, "Let's talk about all our friends who
lost the war / and all the novels that have yet to be written about
them." Still, at other times, she playfully stands back from her
keyboard, playing one-handed, her red bangs hiding her eyes, her lip
half-curled into a playful smile. It almost looks like she's having
fun.

Which would be appropriate. After all, Rilo Kiley's beaten down
messages often carry strong traces of hope. For instance, as Lewis
pours herself into the schoolyard melody of "A Better Son/Daughter",
she sings quietly of "the weight crushing down on my lungs," building
slowly to a shout by the song's end, belting that "you're weak but
not giving in / You'll fight it." Her voice is so loud it almost
hurts. No, wait, it does hurt, but damn, it hurts good.

Despite the softness of its record, Rilo Kiley pens anthemic ballads.
In concert, that's clear. Guitars tearing and lyrics thrown about,
the group splatters its audience with bare pleas for baseball cards
and waking dreams, finding a way to jolt everyone from their pacific
thoughts and take in the hard joy of life itself.

— 6 August 2003