Rilo Kiley
The Execution of All Things
(Saddle Creek, 2002)

Rilo Kiley first entered my consciousness back in 2001, when their debut full-length, Take Offs and Landings, was released. At the time, I was editing a marginally successful webzine called Basement Life, in which my friends and I wrote about pretty much nothing but indie rock. And as the site began to take up more and more of my time, I grew less and less interested in listening to indie rock in my spare time. I was like one of those people who works in an ice cream parlor and eventually comes to find ice cream completely disgusting. It’s at least slightly embarrassing now, but as far as I was concerned, the only music that had any business being made was of the alt-country variety. My days were spent listening to Uncle Tupelo, Steve Earle, Whiskeytown, Richard Buckner, even the unfortunately named (but still totally underrated) Ass Ponys. If there was a Fender Telecaster being played, or a white dude talking about coal-miners, I was there singing along, affecting a laughably transparent kinship with the working class and trying desperately to make myself like whiskey. I don’t really like whiskey.

By the time 2004 rolled around, I had managed to dig myself out of the alt-country rut I’d been stuck in for so long. Maybe I learned to manage my time a bit better, separating business from pleasure and all that, or maybe I just realized I was sick to death of not listening to Belle and Sebastian. Either way, when Rilo Kiley released More Adventurous in August of that year, I gave them more of a chance than I ever had before. It’s a solid record, anchored by the brilliant “Portions For Foxes”, a brisk, upbeat pop song that perfectly showcased Blake Sennett’s inventive, agile guitar work, Jenny Lewis’ beautiful, sturdy vocals, and her ability to convey strength and maturity without coming off as emotionless or guarded. It’s the best song on the record by far, but at worst, the rest of it is above average.

Cut to just a month later, September of 2004.

I’m in bed, possibly sicker than I’ve ever been in my entire life. I’ve got the flu, and I’m running a fever of almost 104 degrees. My body feels sort of empty, but my head feels really heavy, and because I’m a hopeless hypochondriac, I’m pretty sure I’m going to die. I had been listening to music from my computer speakers, which sat on a desk directly across from my bed. I forget what I was listening to initially, but after being left alone for hours (days?), iTunes had made its way through the alphabet and landed on Rilo Kiley’s The Execution of All Things from 2002, an album which my wife had always claimed was very good, but which I’d never bothered to listen to as more than background music. The song “Better Son or Daughter” caught my attention.

“Sometimes when you’re on, you’re really fucking on. And your friends, they sing along and they love you,” sang Lewis. Even as I lay dying, I love it when people curse in songs. “But the lows are so extreme that the good seems fucking cheap,” she continues, “and it teases you for weeks in its absence.” Not only did she say fuck again, but now she’s confirming an awesomely dramatic hunch I’d had of late, that everything in the world was miserable and sad, most notably my new job and the fact that it was turning me into a really, really shitty person.

“But you’ll fight and you’ll make it through, you’ll fake it if you have to, and you’ll show up for work with a smile.” How, I wondered, had Jenny Lewis known about the new leaf I was going to turn over right before I got sick?

And it wouldn’t stop, either. “You’ll be a real good listener, you’ll be honest, you’ll be brave. You’ll be handsome and you’ll be beautiful, and you’ll be happy.” Yes! All those things! I was going to do all of those things!

“Your ship may be coming in, you’re weak but not giving in, but you’ll fight. You’ll go out fighting all of ‘em.” Weak? Dude, I haven’t stood up in 24 hours. How do you know so much about me? When the song ended, I felt around my bed for the little remote control that came with my computer. I found it and went back to the beginning. This went on for hours.

For those of you that haven’t figured it out just yet, I didn’t die. I recovered quite nicely within a week or so. Eventually, I remembered listening to the song over and over again, and I honestly had no idea if it was even good, let alone as earth-shatteringly perfect as it had seemed in my feverous haze.

Turns out it is. The song boasts one of the simplest, most infectious melodies I’ve ever heard, to the point where it almost sounds like a nursery rhyme, and while one could argue that the lyrics are a bit too sunny and read too much like a self-help book, I say it’s a strikingly accurate description of the newly-minted quarter-life crisis, where 20-somethings recognize and wallow in the mess of emotions that come along with the state of suspended adolescence they live in.

The rest of Execution doesn’t quite reach the same levels of transcendence, but much of it comes close. It captures the band at a curious stage in their career: based on the vague merit of their first album, as well as their willingness to tour their asses off, Rilo Kiley scored a spot on the then white-hot roster of Saddle Creek Records, the label that brought us Bright Eyes and Cursive and introduced the world to the fertile indie rock scene of Omaha, Nebraska. Sonically, it was a curious point as well: their songwriting improved wildly after their (still) largely unimpressive debut, and skillful but still loose production style of Mike Mogis worked perfectly for them. The songs ran the gamut from perfect, quaint indie pop (“The Good That Won’t Come Out”) and big, ambitious nods to the best of mid-90s emo (“Spectacular Views”) to gentle elegant waltzes (“Capturing Moods”) and glorious acoustic sing-alongs (“With Arms Outstretched”). Guitarist Blake Sennett also contributed a few songs, which are also successful, though perhaps a little too noticeably derivative of Elliott Smith.

Their relationship with the Saddle Creek would only last for one record, as they eventually forged a deal with a major label subsidiary, a shift that would be reflected not only in the band’s heightened exposure, but also in the decidedly more polished sound of More Adventurous. I’d be willing to bet they’ve still got some greatness left in them, but it’s hard to believe they’ll be able to re-capture the vibe of The Execution of All Things, back when there was an instantly likable sense of community and fun, when they made do with what they had in terms of recording equipment, when their melodies sounded complex and subtle and innocent. Back when Jenny Lewis hadn’t even considered releasing a solo alt-country album.

Watch: “A Better Son/Daughter” [at youtube.com]

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