Rilo Kiley

On The Execution of All Things (Saddle Creek), the new Rilo Kiley record, Jenny Lewis says "shit" a bunch of times. She says "fuck" and "fucking" even more. And she even says "assholes" a couple of times. "Assholes" is in the chorus for the second track, "Paint’s Peeling." She sings it real pretty too.

I tried to count the swears, but kept getting distracted by the pretty pop melodies. However, the swears on this record are much more frequent than on their first, Take Offs And Landings, which is a very good thing. Because on Take Offs, in the middle of the best track, "Wires And Waves," she sang the line, "I’ve had it with you, and Mexico can fucking wait." It was jarring, like when you’re talking to your girlfriend and you don’t know you’re having a fight until out of nowhere she all of a sudden ends the fight you didn’t know you were having with a "Fuck you." And the deafening silence to follow gives you room to backtrack and figure out where you fucked up. It’s similar to when Chan Marshall sings, "Couldn’t park that fucking car" on Cat Power’s Moon Pix. It was the only occurrence of a naughty word on that beautifully serene record, and it threw the listener while adding a huge depth to the imagery of that line. The one swear word worked for that record. But Rilo Kiley is far less somber than a Cat Power song. Jenny Lewis doesn’t suffer quietly or surrender poetically. She throws shit. And she’s got a potty mouth.

The swearing is a plus on a sophomore release that on first listen does too much studio fucking around. This one is the first released on Omaha’s Saddle Creek label, home to Bright Eyes and the Faint, and it’s almost like all the blip and bleep machines that fuck up those two bands’ songs were plugged in when Rilo Kiley walked into the studio so they decided to lay down the shitty. That’s annoying on the first listen. You’ll be digging a song, then this squirmy synthesizer bullshit squiggles through in between a verse and fucks up everything when it was probably intended to punctuate something.

After around the third listen, the songs shine through and they’re all really good and solid. Take Offs and Landings was recorded without a budget, and the lo-fi worked for both Jenny Lewis’ and Blake Sennett’s voices. But while the first few songs on that record were priceless, there were a good many that seemed half-finished. A chorus with nothing to hold it up. Not so with the new one. Nothing falls flat and with each day you find a different song stuck in your head.

On the first track, "The Good that Won’t Come Out," it’s like all of the love letters and fuck-off letters from Take Offs are in the past. Like Lewis has settled in with whomever she’s been battling and now all she can do is focus on herself and what a failure of a human being she is. With a muffled vocal, she sings, "All of the good that won’t come out of me/And all the stupid lies I hide behind." If you’ve ever seen Jenny Lewis live (which you should because live she often wigs out and sends her lyrics with a half-screaming sob into the mic that just makes you get fucking wet) you’ll know she’s the kind of girl to whom you just wanna hand over everything you can steal from your girlfriend. And her voice is perfect for singing a lullaby to an alcoholic who just barely made it from a bender. And to hear a lady like that sing about how she thinks she’s more often than not a terrible person, well it’s just too good to be true.

The best part is she doesn’t care how much of her life she’s wasting or how many bad decisions she knows she’s gonna make tomorrow. She just wants to throw away some time with her boy, as on the beautiful bridge to the song: "Oh, you’re almost home, I’ve been waiting for you to come in/Dancing around in your old suits going crazy in your room again/I think I’ll go out and embarrass myself by getting drunk and falling down in the street/You say I choose sadness, that it never once has chosen me./Maybe you’re right…"

Unrealized potential goes anthemic with "A Better Son/Daughter," which puts the dashed hope of ever satisfying anyone who might depend on you to the beat of a military marching drum. Then it blows up to what could be a graduation anthem sending you out into the world of temporary office employment and the hope of one day trading goals for romance.

Despite the few unnecessary production tricks here and there, the one thing Rilo Kiley can’t whine about is their inability to perfect a song. Lewis’ voice is sent up and around ambitious melodies proving all her vocal potential that was hinted at on Take Offs. And Blake Sennett’s tunes are far more realized. Still chasing Elliott Smith, he’s written some really pretty ones. "Three Hopeful Thoughts" sounds like all his adorable crushes from Take Offs turned out to be little fools once they checked the "Yes" box on his anonymous love letters. And "So Long" has him flying away alone on a dream.

Dreams and dreamy moments seem to be what they want to focus on. Forget the reality, forget the "I know you’re bad for me." On the gorgeous singalong "With Arms Outstretched" Lewis complains, "Some days last longer than others/But this day by the lake went too fast." No matter how many to-do lists she scribbles out, she knows she’ll always be undone by the chance to throw away a day lounging around someplace pretty. There’s a boy there, of course. She closes with a vague kind of warning for him, "Don’t fool yourself in thinking you’re more than you are/With your arms outstretched to me." Placed within the tone of this record, the boy is clearly trying to ignore the mistake he’s about to make with her. And she’s more than happy to let him make it, but when it all gets fucked up he can’t say she never told him so.