Ever had one of those nights where you look back at its events and think, "What the hell just happened?" For college students, those kinds of nights are in abundance, and spring break will have undoubtedly provided much of this campus with "What the hell?" experiences. Though it didn't include tequila, 80-degree weather or random hookups, the Monday night of my spring break was one such experience. In the course of a night at the Pabst Theatre in Milwaukee, I saw quite possibly the worst band I've ever heard, fell in love with a man in woman's jeans and decided that alt-country-rock might just be one of the coolest genres out there thanks to the incredible talent of none other than Rilo Kiley lead and Postal Service guest performer Jenny Lewis.
The lights dimmed on the Pabst Theatre as college students, drunken 20-somethings and my tragically hip dad and I eagerly awaited the presence of someone, anyone to deliver the rocking show we all expected. And the night's openers, Whispertown 2000, looked promising. Really, they did. Comprised of four musicians — a guitarist/vocalist, a bassist, drummer and a supporting vocalist who waved a tambourine a lot — the band took the stage dressed the part of a bona fide indie/pop/folk outfit. The group's two female members wore '60s-inspired mini-dresses and flat leather boots, leading me — and the rest of the audience — to believe that we'd be graced with sounds more reflective of bands like Eisley or Feist than the horror that actually accosted our ears.
This band was bad. Boasting musicians who couldn't have been much older than the average age of the crowd, Whispertown 2000 came off as little more than your average teen band playing "big bad rock star" — and playing the role with very little success. Midway through the group's opening song, the lead guitarist's string broke, causing her to stop the song and reveal her lack of string-fixing knowledge. Now, I'm not a musician, but I would assume anyone deemed talented enough to open for THE Jenny Lewis should know how to fix a broken guitar string, as well as how to harness enough stage presence to play through a song and not reveal absolute ineptitude to a paying audience. As nervous giggles were let out by the band's two female members as a result of this minor snafu, the male musicians grabbed their close-at-hand cans of beer (Pabst, of course) and proceeded to chug. Perhaps in some feeble effort to calm their nerves, or to prove how cool they really were, the duo drank through their fellow band mate's apologetic speech to the crowd.
And so, with new guitar in hand, the band started up the song again (an unfortunate action in and of itself — we didn't need to hear the weak opening another time). Showing no signs of improvement, Whispertown 2000 continued to disappoint. Failing to build rapport with a willing audience and failing to hit more than one high note, the amateur-sounding vocals left listeners wanting. I laughed aloud on more than one occasion, more in disbelief than jest, and certainly not in appreciation. Though I had heard only good things about Jenny Lewis, the night's headliner, I couldn't help but wonder if and how the concert's continuation would improve and worried that the promise of Lewis' talent might not be enough to salvage the horror of the night's first band.
Thankfully, Whispertown 2000's handful of off-key and hard-to-understand songs were delivered quickly and, after looks of disbelief were exchanged by audience members, the next act took the stage. The night took off then, starting what would be two sets of pure musical talent.
Johnathan Rice opened his set in a manner completely opposite that of the performers preceding him. Clothing his thin frame in women's jeans (a fashion statement my dad just didn't understand) and keeping a firm hand on his guitar, he was confidently quiet, replacing Whispertown 2000's nervous rambling with a song that brilliantly showed off Johnny Cash-esque vocals and poetic, heart-wrenching lyrics. This guy was good. Really good. Accompanied by self-proclaimed best friend Farmer Dave (surprisingly made cooler by the name), Rice delivered an acoustic set heavy on enthusiastic guitar-playing, beautiful lyrics and smooth vocals that reminded listeners of everyone from Johnny Cash to John Mayer.
Featuring songs off of his album Trouble is Real, Rice's set was nothing but enjoyable, boasting the kind of voice you can listen to for hours (which, having bought his album as soon as he left the stage, I now admit to doing). And it wasn't just his musical prowess that impressed the audience. Rice didn't say much through his set, but the things he did say were funny and engaging. Looking around the ornately decorated Pabst Theatre, he exclaimed to the audience in an accent that you couldn't quite place (Australian? Canadian?), "Well, for being a pretty cheap beer, Pabst makes a pretty fancy venue." Going on to make fun of his clothing choice and taking jabs at an ex-girlfriend who had done him wrong, Rice won the hearts of his listeners. We fell in love with his talent and demeanor, and I'm sure I wasn't the only one sad to see him leave the stage after finishing his set. The sadness certainly didn't last long, though, as Jenny Lewis and her band (featuring the awesome vocal stylings of the Watson Twins) took command of the stage, spending the rest of the night rocking as only Jenny Lewis can.
Her set started just as her newly released solo album Rabbit Fur Coat does, with Lewis and the two Watson Twins performing the a cappella "Run Devil Run." The trio's voices were idyllically showcased, enrapturing listeners and throwing them for a loop when the quiet ditty morphed into the energetic, country-twanged "The Big Guns." These musicians were no amateurs, just as the rest of the night was not the stereotypical Podunk country-rock I was expecting. Sure, most of the band donned cowboy boots and there was an unmistaken twang to most of the sounds exploding from Lewis, but they merely supplemented the rock.
The energy exuded on stage was palpable as Jenny Lewis and her band (which included the night's earlier performers Johnathan Rice and Farmer Dave), played Rabbit Fur Coat songs as well as some previously unreleased ones. Their musicianship was cohesive — a togetherness brilliantly exemplified by the Watson Twins' supplementation of Lewis' vocals. Never once proving superfluous, Chandra and Leigh Watson complemented the clarity of Lewis' performance with strategically placed harmonies and lightly choreographed moves on the side of the stage. The entire band worked well together, only adding to the impressive quality of the group's performance.
Lewis' songs were, for the most part, upbeat and full of energy; audience members couldn't help but tap their toes in time to the music. The genre displayed presented new ground for me — I, like many people, I'd assume, tend to shy away from anything involving the marriage of rock and country. But the music of Jenny Lewis and the Watson Twins seamlessly brought the two vastly different spheres together, introducing a style of music unique in its origins and sound — a style I now can't get enough of. The fantastic set ended with a quick-tempo number that showcased the talent of each individual musician. As one by one each left the stage, applause erupted from an audience appreciative of the group who turned the night from bad to amazing. As the drummer alone on stage pounded away and then threw his drumsticks in the air, the delighted crowd rose to its feet, demanding an encore.
The night, despite a rocky beginning, was a success. The immense talent of Jenny Lewis and her band, as well as the smooth stylings of the underappreciated Johnathan Rice, definitely made my spring break worthwhile. Though not the beaches of Mexico, the concert at the Pabst provided a night of both laughably bad and amazingly good new music. And, as with many "What the hell?" moments, lessons were learned: Guitarists should know how to fix broken strings, women's jeans don't look half bad on guitarists who sound like Johnny Cash, and Jenny Lewis — and her alt-country-rock sound — might just be one of the coolest things on the scene today. So, though I didn't leave the experience — or my spring break, for that matter — any more tan, I did leave having seen one hell of a show.
Laura Stanelle is a sophomore planning to major in journalism. She wants to be Jenny Lewis and the Watson Twins' new best friend. Questions and comments can be directed to her at [email protected].
