8.5/10
Jenny Lewis has swindled the Fates. As a former kid actor, she should have ended up spending her adult life caked head to toe in Wet n’ Wild make-up sliding down a stripper pole in Nevada, or rushing her daughter to a beauty pageant so she could live vicariously through her via spray-on tan. Instead, Jenny Lewis has what every kid actor dreams of—success after the age of 12, without a sex tape in sight.
Acid Tongue, Lewis’ latest release, is the follow up album to her first departure from her full-time group Rilo Kiley, 2006’s Rabbit Fur Coat. If the acoustic gospel folk vibes featured on that album didn’t really fit your secular bag of tricks, don’t rule out Lewis’ latest effort just yet.
Acid Tongue marks Lewis’ transformation from a pseudo Patsy Cline to a full-blown saucy, ginger Jezebel. The album, which against all odds makes country rock sound cool, is a definite showcase for Lewis’ abilities as a songwriter. Tracks like “Acid Tongue” and “The Next Messiah” are mature, and yet simple and sincere, like Bob Dylan with estrogen injections.
The album opener is “Black Sand,” and I’d be lying if I told you it was one you’re going to want to replay the second time around. But fear not, because once those three minutes are up, your ears will orgasm. “Pretty Bird” is the song Jenny Lewis should have released years ago. It’s final proof that this girl’s packing a pretty pair of soulful pipes, which is kind of a downgrade for the rest of us because there’s no way to sing along in the car without sounding like an asshole. It’s also the song you know will evoke a wave of awkward hippie hip-swaying amongst the audience when performed live. When you hear “Acid Tongue,” you’ll know why Jenny Lewis made the album. “See Fernando” is probably the most like Lewis’ previous work in its vivaciousness, and its western influences will have you saving up for a six-shooter. “Godspeed” is really just one of those songs that says, “my glass is half empty, so I don’t have enough to get my Prozac down.” Lewis’s collaboration with Elvis Costello is strategically placed to overshadow the mediocrity of “Trying My Best to Love You,” but “Jack Killed Mom,” which is brilliant Oedipus Rex incestuous funk, is a more-than-sufficient apology for the last three minutes. The album wraps up quite nicely, with only one major flop in “Bad Man’s World,” which would be better off played over a public service announcement about polyester and pedophiles.
It seems as though Acid Tongue will be enough to eclipse the fact that Lewis once appeared in an episode of Just the Ten of Us called “Puberty Blues,” and if that isn’t success, I don’t know what is.
