On Wednesday, May 7, I ventured to one of the last places on earth where twee appeared to be alive and well: the Rilo Kiley concert at Libbey Bowl in Ojai. Residents of the idyllic town and surrounding enclaves of the greater LA area showed out for the band’s second stop on their first tour in seventeen years—their hiatus was announced in 2010, and they haven’t hit the road since 2007. As such, by the time the hour struck seven, a respectable line had formed, snaking past the food trucks and play structures that surrounded the outdoor venue. Press pass in hand, I was ushered, quite generously, to the front of the pit, taking my seat in the third row.
As the afternoon waned into a mild evening, the sunset pinkened the surrounding Topatopa mountains, and local angel Allie Crow Buckley kicked off the show. Flanked by a three-man backing band, Buckley posed onstage beneath an arc of violet wash lights that matched her flowy purple dress. An earthshaking, mournful guitar erupted from the stage as Buckley began to sing, her enrapturing alto obliging the audience to hang onto every word. She swayed to the beat as kick and shaker drove the melody forward. The band’s masterful dynamic swells evoked the cathartic cinematics of Sharon van Etten, inflected by the ethereality of Maggie Rogers and the drifting synths of Foxes in Fiction. It is safe to say the foursome delivered a spectacular set, an appropriately impressive introduction before Rilo Kiley’s greatly anticipated arrival.
The beloved 2000s indie outfit soon emerged, starting off strong with “The Execution of All Things,” the title track of their 2002 record. Lead singer Jenny Lewis dominated the stage, holding down bass in a polka dot sailor dress and sparkly tiara. The already exhilarated crowd went ballistic as the band transitioned to “Wires and Waves,” track three off of what many consider to be the band’s magnum opus: Take Offs and Landings (2001). “There are oceans and waves and wires between us / And you called to say you’re getting older,” sang Lewis, a poignant lyric in light of the bitterness that had caused the band to part ways all those years ago. Now, dialed back in and sounding better than ever, Rilo Kiley’s triumphant comeback marked a retirement of these sentiments and the onset of a new era.
From the funkiness of “The Moneymaker” to the swooning ‘50s twang of “I Never,” Rilo Kiley’s set defied the boundaries of genre. Lewis switched instruments every few songs, hopping between bass, keys, and guitar, begging the question: what can’t she do? In the time since Rilo Kiley’s split, her solo work has soared, and a hint of the folky disposition of Rabbit Fur Coat (2006) was perceptible in the lilt of her iconic vocals.
The electric force of the set lapsed for a moment as guitarist Blake Sennett donned an acoustic for “With Arms Outstretched,” and Lewis prompted the audience to sing and clap along, thrusting the mic forward into the welcoming darkness of the night. The band exited after the final infectious choruses of “Portions for Foxes”: “I’m just bad news, bad news, bad news,” Lewis belted with a grin, as the band continued to put the “rock” in “indie rock.”
Applause rang out from the pit to the farthest reaches of the grass lawn beyond, and it was not long before the band returned to the stage for a three-song encore. Following their reentry with “A Man / Me / Then Jim,” Lewis mimed the moves of “The Frug,” including ‘the Robocop’ and ‘the Freddie’ (but not, regrettably, the elusive ‘Smurf’). Last but not least in their very comprehensive lineup was “Pictures of Success,” a melancholy sendoff with a sweetness at its core. Lewis delivered the bridge of this nihilistic number with excellence and grace: “They say California is a recipe for a black hole / And I say I’ve got my best shoes on / I’m ready to go, ready to go,” she sang, Sennett chiming in to support her on backup vocals as the dynamic duo carried us home.
Fifteen years ago, Rilo Kiley broke up before I ever knew they existed. Now, they emerge from the dead as we all plummet into the latter half of this decade. Seeing them perform was the perfect way to kick off what is sure to be a memorable summer—for better or for worse—and it was the only way to ring in the rest of my adult life, as graduation and all that lies after it draws nearer by the day. Their astute and candid meditations will always guide me forward, on the walk to the car through the park after the show, during the quiet ride home, as I walk across a stage towards an uncertain future in one week’s time. Like Lewis before me, I approach it “with my arms up.”
Article by Sophia Shen
Photos courtesy of Michelle Evans
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