I have a secret: I like it when bands sell out. Not all bands, but as a firm supporter of the alternative, I have a fascination with dismantling the system from within. Outkast found more envelopes to push and boundaries to step over on the hip-pop of Speakerboxxx/Love Below than on their previous material just as the white noise assault of Sonic Youth was more subversive once they reined in the song lengths in their major label years.
Yes, Rilo Kiley has always been an indie-pop re-imagining of the Laurel Canyon bunch, but this album finds their work polished to a Steely Dan sheen. Or should I say Nelly Furtado? This album isn't so much a cynical reach for the top-40 as it is a reimagining of the toppermost of the poppermost as how it should be. No, not that indie should be hitting the singles charts; but creativity, novelty, and fun should return in force. You can still hear the twang in Jenny Lewis' voice on song or two, but the Hollywood country vibe that permeated some of their earlier records is mostly ditched in favor of straight up universal pop. Yessir, the thrills are cheap on this disc, but love is even cheaper.
How many indie bands have admirable lack of self conscious restraint to write a giddy chorus of "ooo it feels so good to be free," as the Kileys do on "Breakin' Up"? Probably fewer would be willing to put out an album that owes as much to Abba as it does The Byrds. The zenith of the hunger for pop is the Latin come on of "Dejalo," which besides a barbed hook and great harmonies contains the immortal couplet, "my momma is an athiest/if you stay out late/she won't get pissed." The stickiest melody belongs to the album closing "Give a Little Love" in which Fleetwood Mac and the cheapest sounding hand claps since the halycon days of Lil Jon are combined in three minutes of the best advice I've ever heard.
8/10
www.rilokiley.com
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