Somewhere along the way,
Jenny Lewis decided that she wasn't an indie rocker but that she was a lady of the canyon, a singer/songwriter spinning stories on her own instead of languishing in a band with her ex-boyfriend. By the time of
Rilo Kiley's too-eager-to-please crossover attempt
Under the Black Light in 2007, being in
Rilo Kiley was indeed languishing for
Lewis, as the group muddled through tight-fisted funk harshly framed by an over-lit production.
Acid Tongue,
Lewis' second solo album, acts as a rebuke to all the considered calculation and perfunctory polish of
Under the Black Light. Nothing about
Acid Tongue feels over-thought, a problem that plagued both
Under the Black Light and her solo debut Rabbit Fur Coat, whose rustic country-soul vibe occasionally played like a studied pose, particularly as
Lewis picked up on every one of
Elvis Costello's overheated literary lyrical tics. Experience -- either life or professional, it doesn't really matter -- has sanded away much pretension within her writing, taking
Lewis down to her chosen foundation: early-'70s West Coast rock, rooted in country-rock but touching on gospelfied blues and R&B, pitched somewhere between
Laura Nyro and
Bonnie Raitt, colored by spooky ballads and sweeping strings swiped from early
Elton John.
As a solo artist,
Lewis is a proud traditionalist, adhering to the constructs and conceits of classic singer/songwriters, which can come across as affectation if she's too careful to follow conventions, like she was on Rabbit Fur Coat. In stark contrast to that 2006 LP,
Acid Tongue is open-hearted and thrillingly alive, an album that's all about a live band making a big, joyful noise in a small room. This was largely recorded live in a short span of time and it feels that way: when it rocks -- as it does on the furious "See Fernando" and "Jack Killed Mom," both picking up speed like a runaway locomotive -- it's invigorating, while softer moments like the girl-groupish "Trying My Best to Love You" have a warm intimacy. There's a communal vibe here, which is only appropriate as these sessions had a revolving open door, bringing in plenty of friends and guests, including old reconstituted hippies like
Chris Robinson of the
Black Crowes, wannabe troubadours like
Lewis' boyfriend
Johnathan Rice, both halves of
She & Him, and
Jenny's idol
Costello, who appears for a rip-roaring duet on "Carpetbaggers" and lends his protégée some of his
Imposters, including drummer
Pete Thomas who gives this a wallop.
This old-fashioned jam session gives
Acid Tongue a crackling vitality but what's remarkable about the album is how much more comfortable
Jenny Lewis seems here, as both a singer and writer. The vigorous music undercuts any lingering stodginess from
Lewis' classicism but she's also shaken off the cobwebs on her writing, mastering an elusive, open-ended melancholy that makes "Black Sand" truly haunting and not wasting space even when "The New Messiah" spills out to upwards of ten minutes.
Lewis isn't exploring new territory here; instead she's digging deeper, tossing out what hasn't worked and sharpening what has, finding a way to carve out a distinctive voice within a tradition instead of redefining the style. That's tough work, as it takes time to hone those skills, but
Acid Tongue is where
Lewis finally pulls it all together and delivers one killer of a record. ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine