Rilo Kiley's musicians carry singer at the Troc
What's gotten into Jenny Lewis? The front woman for the L.A.-based quartet Rilo Kiley made her name in indie-rock circles with songs that were literate, incisive and melodically ingenious.
What's gotten into Jenny Lewis? The front woman for the L.A.-based quartet Rilo Kiley made her name in indie-rock circles with songs that were literate, incisive and melodically ingenious.
She has led the band into surprising territory, however, on its new album, the slick, almost banal Under the Blacklight. At the band's sold-out Trocadero show on Tuesday, Lewis seemed strangely disengaged at times, not speaking to the audience till somewhere around the halfway mark.
Occasionally, she would slink around the stage or coyly lean into the microphone, but these moves came off a little too studied and rehearsed. One couldn't help but wonder if Lewis was thinking of something else, like her burgeoning solo career. (She released a well-received, alt-country-flavored disc, Rabbit Fur Coat, last year.)
The band was able to generate momentum anyway. The four members, plus two auxiliary players, are all nimble musicians, especially guitarist Blake Sennett, who handled most of the stage banter when not executing shimmering riffs that brought to mind Johnny Marr of the Smiths.
The group has amassed no small amount of good will from its thriving fan base. The enthralled crowd eagerly sang along with older songs, such as "With Arms Outstretched" and "Does He Love You" - no small feat when you consider how tightly Lewis packed those songs with lyrical detail and detours.
Despite mixed reviews for Under the Blacklight from music blogs and message boards, the audience welcomed seven songs from the album with only a little less ardor.
The album purports to be an examination of the seamier sides of L.A. The band doesn't bring anything new to this shopworn theme, so the collection bogs down with a myriad of genre exercises. In a live setting, however, songs such as "Breakin' Up" and "Give a Little Love" felt tighter and more direct. But there was no salvaging "15," an annoyingly cutesy soul pastiche.