Live Wire Rilo Kiley Fails to Execute in Studio
By Kate Brokaw
A&F Staff Writer

Over the years, Los Angeles-based band Rilo Kiley has built their reputation playing beautiful and bittersweet rock music, and this distinct, fiercely lovely sound was at its strongest during their CD release show last Saturday. Celebrating their second full-length album, The Execution of All Things, which hit stores this week, the band played to an adoring audience at the Henry Fonda Theatre in Hollywood, a week after structural damage to the El Rey caused a postponement and location change.

Throughout the show, lead chanteuse Jenny Lewis’ soaring voice helped songs move seamlessly from quiet, story-like verses to eruptions of guitar-led choruses.

Electronic blips and bleeps occasionally came into sthe ongs, as the band drew upon ambient background layers that were reminiscent of opening band Dntel.

But the synthesizers never overtook the melodies: the band’s folk-ish songs built to full rock climaxes, with chiming guitar from band co-founder Blake Sennett dueling with Lewis’ gorgeously earnest vocals.

The audience sung along dotingly to selections from 2001’s Take Offs and Landings and even dropped the overwhelming L.A. hipster vibe long enough to dance a little bit. “They say that California’s a black hole,” Lewis sang, “and I say/I’ve got my best shoes on/I’m ready to go.” The band closed with the joyously epic “Plane Crash In C,” although their guest trumpet player was only a justble to reach the show and hurriedly pull out his instrument for the end of the song. But no matterer the band, all smiles, played the euphoric final chorus again, trumpet solo and all.

It’s the glorious nature of their live shows that make Rilo Kiley’s new album a disappointment in comparison.

Suffering the same fate as Phantom Planet’s recent album The Guest, The Execution of All Things sounds like an indie band trying too hard to take advantage of all the tools of a real studio setting. (Their first LP was recorded in Lewis’ house.) It’s an overproduced recording that, save for a few bright spots, fails to capture the energy and immediacy of their live performances.

It’s easy to see why the band’s sensitive vocals and soaring melodies attracted Omaha-based, indie powerhouse label Saddle Creek (also known as the home of Conor “Bright Eyes/Desaparecidos” Oberst). And indeed, in “The Execution of All Things,” Lewis sings of going “to Omaha, to work and exploit the booming music scene.” (And doesn’t “Hail to Whatever You Found in the Sunlight That Surrounds You” sound like a Bright Eyes title?)

But throughout the album, Lewis’ vocals just aren’t strong enough.

Even disregarding the whispered sing-song of opening track “The Good That Won’t Come Out,” the songs that have such a power and directness in concert fail to provide the same thrill on record. There are exceptions: “Paint’s Peeling” builds to a magnificent, impassioned final chorus; title track “The Execution of All Things” is one beautiful textured melody; and “Spectacular Views” is the great final rockout that the album needs.

But when Lewis sings, “I don’t mind wasting the best years of our lives,” on “Capturing Minds,” there’s a sad lack of earnestness to her vocals.

The accompanying music is all chiming, beautiful harmonics, but the energy and the bite of the band’s live performance is strangely lacking.

No matter how lovely all the arrangements on The Execution of All Things may be, the band seems to have forgotten than a great arrangement is nothing without a great delivery.

“With Arms Outstretched,” built around delicate, twangy verses, culminates with hand claps and backup vocals from a so-called “Boy choir,” including Oberst himself. It’s a strange addition to the song, a juxtaposition of styles that the band just can’t pull off. And Sennett’s two contributions to lead vocals are quiet and pretty– but not much else.

Rilo Kiley’s greatest strength is in its ability to make pain and confusion sound beautiful. “There are no bad words for the coast today,” Lewis sings in the final track, “then you ask what’s a palisade/and if you’re too late for happiness?”

There are so many ridiculously pretty moments on the album: little string sequences; exquisite, poetry-like lyrics; resounding guitars that come into songs just when you’d least expect it.

But the moments don’t add up to enough: it’s the raw nature of live Rilo Kiley that’s more likely to give you the shivers.