Rilo Kiley: The Execution of All Things

Jenny Lewis of Rilo Kiley makes me act like an over-excited puppy.

Case in point: Upon meeting her following a show at Washington, D.C.'s Black Cat, I stuttered and acted like a complete fool as I asked her to sign a poster.

I never do that.

Then, a few weeks ago, I fought a bitter eBay war to procure an advance copy of Rilo Kiley's latest cd, "The Execution of All Things."

I never do that.

But it seems I'll do just about anything for Rilo Kiley, this sappy sweet team comprised of Jenny Lewis and Blake Sennett, the band's dual centerpieces, with Pierre de Reeder on bass and Jason Boesel on drums.

And, maybe I'm wrong, but I'm pretty sure they'd do anything for me as well.

I can just tell. It's all right there in the lyrics, for example:

"Last night, where the road had started, and last night, when my hands were choking you. Last night, when the room and your mood was dipping, and last night when the ropes were pulling you in.... You said, "Hey, how could you love me this way?"

What you can't hear from reading that is the beautiful, angry way Lewis' voice stretches the word "hey" into approximately seven syllables. This one song, titled "Paint's Peeling", invites more rocking out than possibly anything else in Rilo Kiley's body of work—while catchy and melodic, nothing else of theirs has ever made me want to bang my head...until this song.

And that is a beautiful thing.

Then there's the rousing wake-up call of "A Better Son/Daughter", in which these lines

"your ship may be coming in you're weak but not giving in to the cries and the wails of the valley below"

bring to mind an inebriated scrum of sweaty, bloody soccer players hugging and drinking in a pub following their hard-fought season-ending loss.

Granted, if there's one weakness to the band's work, it's the songs where Sennett takes the reins. There's nothing wrong with Blake Sennett's voice; don't get me wrong. The songs are just as beautiful musically and lyrically as everything else—on his own, Sennett would stand up just fine, no doubt attracting the sort of attention lavished on his indie-rock counterparts.

The problem is slipping Sennett's voice into an album of work that's dominated by Lewis' clear song—and Sennett just can't compete, though my mother might admonish that this isn't a competition. Compared to Lewis, Sennett seems bland, like a bout of drunken sex without the spice of a good anal fisting.

But what's undeniably about this album is the emotion and effort Rilo Kiley puts into each note—nothing is done for effect or show or fortune. Even if they occasionally delve into the maudlin, they can't help it...that's just how they are, their earnestness is genuine, and, well, they mean it.

And perhaps most important, on this album Rilo Kiley gives us what's been missing from their previous work—a campfire song, called "With Arms Outstretched" complete with the requisite handclaps.

"It's sixteen miles to the promised land And I promise you I'm doing the best I can"

The best they can is pretty damn good.

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