Rabbit Fur Coat

Jenny Lewis & The Watson Twins

Rabbit Fur Coat

The expression “blue-eyed soul” brings about lateral thoughts of Hydrox cookies, Voit gym shoes, Dr. Thunder soda and NRM music stores. Needless to say, there’s always a better option. Upon hearing that Rilo Kiley figurehead Jenny Lewis was set to put out a solo “soul” album, I began imagining an indie rock version of Love Angel Music Baby, but, you know, with guitars (and unsoulful soul vocals).

I had always pondered how much creative input Lewis had into the musical side of her band; after all, we are talking about the girl who gave Ben Seaver (Mike Seaver’s little bro) his first kiss before going on to play a bit role in the film Pleasantville, only to be redeemed when she became an active b-girl through her teens in Los Angeles (to this day, she cites Freestyle Fellowship as an influence). Eventually Jenny, the adult rock singer, denounced her former career as the token red-haired child actor, even following the clichÈ of blaming it on her folks, as all child actors seem to do at some point or another. So enough with the Jenny Lewis Fan Club jokes and onto the surprise triumph known as the Rabbit Fur Coat.

Check your hipster mages and websites, and you’ll soon see that there’s already been a good portion of press surrounding the Fur Coat. Some want to compare it to Cat Power’s new album, some feel the need to bring up Dusty In Memphis and pretty much everyone else mentions Laura Nyro, including Lewis.

So let’s get a few things clear. For those Laura Nyro fans who keep hearing that Rabbit Fur Coat sounds like your girl, I have to tell you, no, it doesn’t sound like a Laura Nyro album. And for Rabbit Fur Coat fans who hear that Laura Nyro sounds like Jenny Lewis, again, I have to tell you, no. Just because a fair-skinned lady sings soul(ish) music with back-up singers, it doesn’t mean that they sound like Laura Nyro. The same goes for Cat Power. And while we are at it, no, The Greatest is no Fur Coat. So what about Dusty Springfield? Easy, no. Sure, if you filled your five-disc changer (or Ipod, or whatever) with Dusty, Cat, Nyro and Fur, it’d go down pretty well, but do they all sound the same? No, they’re just all white girls singing from the gut.

If not Nyro, and not Rilo, then what could Rabbit Fur Coat possibly sound like? How about a mix of country, pop, cute, soul, indie and singer-songwriter, all backed by two sweetly identical voices (courtesy of The Watson Twins) and a pitch perfect band of credible players? Now that’s much more accurate, especially the part about being cute. Jenny Lewis has always played it sweet, and in doing so, has earned her position as the Queen of Indie Rock. This time around things are different. Lewis is singing for her girls as well. It’s not all “you can sell your baseball cards just to pay your rent”; Queen Lewis and her Watson Twins channel their feminine sides all throughout Rabbit to wonderful results.

Fur‘s aim to alleviate everyday tensions and inevitably empower the listener is evident all throughout the album’s 10 core songs, often reverting to themes of spirituality, though consistently remaining far too tongue-in-cheek to ever come off as heavy handed. Is Lewis a Bible-thumping songbird? She never affiliates, nor commits, per se, but there’s some faith going on - something, I presume, most of her “wandering soul” indie fans secretly long for. On the poppy “Big Guns,” Lewis confuses her listeners, singing “well you praise him, then you thank him, until you reach the by-and-by; and I’ve won hundreds at the track but I’m not betting on the afterlife.”

Alas, the content, as always with Lewis’ work, takes a back seat to style, execution and downright cuteness. Listening to Lewis sing is as close to having a make-believe friend as anyone (above the age of nine) should get. Be it your rockstar girlfriend or your female compadre, Lewis has a preternatural instinct for playing the role of her listeners’ silly imaginary friend. Pick up Rabbit Fur Coat; it’s not a religious work, it isn’t a Laura Nyro tribute and, for certain, Fur is not another Rilo Kiley album. Lewis has finally proven herself as not just a wonderful voice, but also an exciting songwriter with a newfound knack for sincerely mature work.

It takes a lot to tell your emo fans that you just might believe in something after all. As Lewis sings, “I was born secular and inconsolable, I heard that he walked, he walked the earth. God goes where he wants, and who knows where he is not? Not in me,” everything is left open for interpretation, even Hydrox and Voit, one would presume.  9/10

Written by G. William Locke