A wave of screams overtook the opening bluesy swing of the deceptively seedy yet superficial "See Fernando," from 2008's Acid Tongue, as Jenny Lewis strutted onto the stage wearing an American Flag as a cape. What came next was an almost pitch perfect hour long set from a Class A entertainer—with a huge emphasis on "almost."
The 12-song set was professionally executed by her band of able studio quality multi-instrumentalists, who could probably be playing, or wearing for that matter, any manner of fashion or style of music and pull it off successfully.
One major thing that bothers me about Jenny Lewis is that ever since Rilo Kiley's 2004 major label debut, she has become a genre-jumping chameleon in the guise of a folk singer, a country gal and, most recently, a soul diva. Instead of mastering her own voice; in this case, not her singing voice, but her mode of expression which was once simultaneously innovative and alluding, Lewis, with each subsequent release, has opted to favor imitation over invention.
Which is not to say that the set was not enjoyable. Lewis' performance was at the same high level of engagement and intensity that brought her to national attention years ago. But the over-deliberate nature of the material, and the "authentic" 70's fashion and sound of the band didn't serve so much as it took away.
Highlights included the lovely and reflective, "Acid Tongue,” with her band theatrically grouped arm in arm behind Lewis, lending background vocals; as well as the crowd-pleasing Traveling Wilburys cover, "Handle Me With Care," which featured guest vocal appearances from co-headliner, Conor Oberst and MVB guitarist, Nik Freitas. The low points were Lewis' drawn out off key diva notes of "Born Secular." Two new songs, however showed promise: The Rilo Kiley-ish "Big Wave" and "Just Like Zeus," which contained the ironic lyric: "Outside Silverlake, I am the biggest fake."
It really was perfect day out in Battery Park for the River to River Festival show. Everyone seemed to have a smile on his or her face. Comfortably sunny and breezy, even the most die-hard fans of either act probably didn't suffer too badly to get to the front of the crowd, evidently lining up as early as 9 a.m. When Conor Oberst took the stage in his now signature giant brimmed kind of ridiculous black hat, a blurry cascade of faces were all singing along as I made my way through the photographer's pit.
There were a lot of similarities between Conor Oberst and The Mystic Valley Band's impressive 19 song set and Jenny Lewis' performance, with a couple of major differences. Like Jenny Lewis' solo releases, Oberst's last two albums: this year's Outer South, and last year's Conor Oberst, rely heavily on referential sounds and song form. It's not a far departure from the kind of songwriting that Oberst as always done, but Bright Eyes always managed to texturally elude its own core simplicity and conventionalism through lush arrangement, whereas The Mystic Valley Band (and Jenny Lewis' band) embrace these qualities in the form of a retro sounding rock ‘n' roll band. Both bands were well rehearsed, and could clearly conjure a top-notch musical execution on cue, which made them all at once easy to listen to and difficult to enjoy as nothing was ever at stake. However, each member of The Mystic Valley Band is a "personality player," whose respective tones and pronounced style reflect the individual vs. Lewis' band of "note players," who were so technically proficient that they could have been anyone.
The Mystic Valley Band rolled and tumbled perfectly through the first 12 songs that seemed to be lacking conviction in the band's apparent effortlessness. Oberst seemed like a vessel of a higher message as he dramatically, or possibly jokingly, flailed his arms about in a preacher like stance on songs like "Souled Out!" and "Nickorette." As I do when I listen to Outer South, I mentally skipped out on Taylor Hollingsworth's filler contribution, "Air Mattress," and went looking for a snack. There wasn't too much interaction with the audience other than the obligatory "thank you very much" and brief mentions of the 4th of July.
It wasn't until more than halfway through the set, during a slowed down "Cape Canaveral," that I was truly moved. Conor's body seemed to literally vibrate through the song's mournful cosmic imagery while his voice teetered between an intense whisper and classically-Oberst quivering. "Let's get festive for fuck’s sake!" Oberst proclaimed as the band launched into inspired versions of "Get Well Cards," an unreleased gem, "One of My Kind" (for an acoustic version, watch the online documentary of the same name), and the Dylan-channeling "I Got a Reason #2."
The five-song encore started quietly with "Lenders In The Temple" featuring keyboardist, Nate Walcott creating haunting synth swells reminiscent of a Kubrick film. The rest of the band came on for drummer, Jason Boesel's "Difference Is Time," which is easily Outer South's best non-Oberst contribution. It's no surprise that Oberst's Team Love Records will be releasing an album solely of Boesel tunes. The band laid down a humorous funky groove underneath Oberst's ecstatic band introductions which went right into the full force of "I Don't Want to Die (In a Hospital)". Oberst introduced the last song as "the most patriotic song we have so we saved it for last." A distorted minor chord gave way to the politically scathing "Roosevelt Room," which was a furious reminder that it took a revolutionary war to achieve independence.
