If you happened to walk by The National last Wednesday here in our great Capital City of Richmond, Virginia, you’d have noticed something not so out of the ordinary but very wonderful happening.
If you happened to walk by The National last Wednesday here in our great Capital City of Richmond, Virginia, you’d have noticed something not so out of the ordinary but very wonderful happening.
None other than child-star turned indie rock goddess Jenny Lewis, who stole all of our hearts some years ago, graced our fair city with her music, her style, and her wonderful hair. It remained to be seen whether she’d give our hearts back, if she was indeed done with them.
The stage was done up in stars and dreamy sky blues, rainbow clouds, and deep purples, which percolate the look of Lewis’ current album cycle. Unfortunately her multi-colored pantsuit didn’t make it for this show but was instead substituted for a more modest black and rainbow ensemble.
Was this all Lewis’ version of heaven, or just an airbrush paradise? The magic was still there in spirit, no doubt. At any moment I felt that I would be asked to buy a time share on an island owned and operated by Lisa Frank. Truthfully, that would be quite awesome.
Singing to an audience of already clearly converted fans, it wouldn’t be hard for Lewis to rake in a fortune or borrow our dad’s car while he’s gone for the weekend. Much of the set list focused on her newest effort, the sublime, Laurel Canyon-flavored The Voyager, which returns Lewis to her former solo glory.
Frankly, it’s the record everybody wanted from Lewis after being absent for nearly four years–six if you discount her underrated Jenny & Johnny album with fellow singer-songwriter boyfriend, Jonathan Rice.
The Voyager, a timeless character, recalls the best of Lewis’ previous output while pushing forward, making up for all the supposed lost time.
Translating that record onstage seems to be easy enough, as Lewis’ backing band is flawless and tight. Lewis has a knack of delivering her lyrics with enthusiasm, and reading her facial expressions, you get the feeling that even the sadder songs are meant to bring you up for the night.
The night went simply like this. Jenny plays song. Crowd sings along and cheers enthusiastically when she stops. Jenny thanks crowd for said love. Repeat.
While formulaic, it was a winning dynamic, and an easy way to put on one successful rock show. And, well, why not? The awed crowds, who’d most likely been won over before Lewis even came onstage, were delivered a pitch-perfect set weaving in and out of new jams and old favorites from her days fronting Rilo Kiley and the Watson Twins.
Lewis, occasionally taking sips from her red plastic cup, also genuinely seemed to love the reaction from the crowd that was almost overwhelmingly loud and enthusiastic towards her. You could barely hear her between songs due the adulation and cheers thrust upon her. While her performance was strong, it seems like the sheer appreciation also stemmed from Lewis’ body of work as a whole. If she’d decided to throw down “The Frug,” she could probably have torn down the house.
“I want to take you back to the mid-aughts. You know, a simpler time,” Lewis started off before going into “You Are What You Love,” a song that could define her personal voice and clever writing style. It is one of those songs that strike a chord between being depressed, sincere, and optimistic, all at the same time.
Hearing everybody in the room connect to her words really shows how important Jenny Lewis is as an artist and (in a way) a therapist for a lot of people–dating from a time before we had Lana Del Rey for that. A cover of The Grateful Dead’s “Shakedown Street” also made a nice little appearance.
What was absent was the title track from Lewis’ new album, a clear standout from that release. While I could gripe about that, the inclusion of Rilo Kiley classics “With Arms Outstretched” and “A Better Son/Daughter” helped make up for it. Both are probably a must at this point.
Giant balloons were released during the last few songs, rivalling those of Weezer–who pulled this trick earlier this year at The National.
Lewis ended the night with “She’s Not Me,” a perhaps-symbolic way to tell us she’s been misunderstood her entire career, and this was all a huge cry for help. The crowd wished she could stay for more but that wasn’t in the cards tonight.
In the end, no hearts were returned. But boy, did we have fun.
