Although I've managed to lose track of many of the musical influences from my early college years, the Jenny & Johnny show in Santa Fe, NM, firmly reminded me of the greatness that is Jenny Lewis. I had forgotten about her impact on my younger self; Lewis' raw vocals provided the soundtrack to hours spent in the dim 70s-styled tenth-floor study lounge in UNC-Chapel Hill's Davis Library. But tonight, Miss Lewis and her man, Johnathan Rice, provided one of the most unexpectedly incredible (albeit smokey) live performances I've experienced in a long time.
First, let me speak to the smoke. Currently, there's a massive forest fire raging on the New Mexico / Arizona border that has clouded the bright blue sky for days and turned the Santa Fe moon red at night. It has also given many, many people a nasty cough.
To this end, Jenny and Johnny invited the Santa Fe Brewing Company patio audience - set behind the vast desert and distant Jemez mountains - to sing along with the chorus of Rice's original, "We're All Stuck Out In The Desert (and We're Gonna Die)." And while I'm sure each of us stuck out in the middle of dry, vast New Mexico could uniquely relate to this chorus, what really resonated were the moments in the show when Lewis simply let loose.
Firmly stating the disclaimer, "this is not a love song," Lewis kept it loose with the song, "Just Like Zeus," from the Jenny & Johnny debut album, I'm Having Fun Now. With her trademark smirk, spunk, and incredible vocal range, Lewis used her weathered yet smooth-as-honey vocals to woo the crowd.
Watching the show, it occurred to me that Lewis is far from sugar-coated. She's the real fucking deal. I get the sense that she's the type of girl who has met a few boys and spent her nights out; maybe she's done a line or two in a bathroom stall - she has lived and she has felt it - and she has the voice to make us feel it all, too.
But after a few Jenny & Johnny originals (including songs like the very political, "Animal," which was prefaced with an anti-Arizona diatribe), which were delightful and highlighted the Rice as a budding rock-star, I began to yearn for Lewis' powerful Rilo Kiley-era vocals. Don't get me wrong, Rice was musical, sensitive and talented - but something about the collaboration seemed to dim the bright light, the shining talent and soul that I remembered in past Lewis projects. The fuzzier, louder, beach-rock nature of Jenny & Johnny seemed to add a bit more noise to the equation. I wondered, had the man dimmed the woman?
And then came "Silver Lining".
In one of the most true and honest performances, the duo performed a stripped-down acoustic version of the Lewis classic, "Silver Lining." Rice introduced it as one of his favorite songs ever written and the two harmonized exquisitely in a slow, beautiful, even slightly painful rendition. The patio crowd fell quiet, the red moon loomed overhead and Jenny Lewis converted us all.
After the show, the crowd lingered basking in the glory of what had just taken place. A 20-year-old boy next to me struck up a conversation about life, the streets and culture of Albuquerque, and his high appreciation for art and culture in Santa Fe. I am confident that this random connection was born wholly from the shared experience of Jenny & Johnny's last song. Later in the night, the band showed up at the bar across the street and mutts howled into the dark smoked sky. Albeit cliche, I believe that it was - for all of us - a night to remember.
