Jenny Lewis stuck out her foot as I walked by and sent me sprawling across the floor. She knew she had my attention and she sang it again, this time aiming it right at me.
“It’s your gradual descent into a life you never meant…”
I blinked a few times as the realization sunk in. My life had become something I never meant it to be. I wasn’t happy. I hadn’t noticed before this point. It had come on so gradually. Lewis and her band, Rilo Kiley, provided me with a flash of insight.
“A Man/Me/Then Jim” was the song. More Adventurous was the album. I had purchased it blindly on a tip from my little sister. It must have been fate, because generally I make a point not to take music tips from my little sister. I listened to it until I had it memorized. It became my gospel.
Twenty-two, I decided, was too young to be unhappy. More Adventurous provided the soundtrack to a year of major changes. I left a stagnant relationship, focused on school, and planned for the future. I was free, liberated. And every time I listened to that album, I felt Rilo Kiley had penned lyrics just for me.
Lewis along with Blake Sennett, the Lennon and McCartney of Rilo Kiley, compose music in a style hard to classify. The unique blend of folk, rock, pop and country felt like a delightful indulgence against my bland diet of Top 40 radio mainstays. Lyrically, the songs hint at loneliness and disillusion, but also manage to offer hope and optimism. It felt as though someone had given me a handbook on life.
Now and then I still put More Adventurous in my CD player for some aural therapy, and Rilo Kiley never fails to deliver. From the not-so-subtle political commentary of “It’s a Hit” to the wry ode to a tragedy in “Accidntel Deth,” the album touches on sundry topics.
Jenny Lewis knows she has me, though, when she sings about relationships. She knows what I need to hear. She grabs me by the arm and, gently but firmly, imparts a bit of title-track wisdom.
“I read with every broken heart we should become more adventurous.”
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