Native Californians understand that California isn’t just a place, it’s a state of mind. Jenny Lewis was born in Las Vegas but the lifelong Los Angeles resident is part of California’s DNA. Yes, she had a childhood brush with Hollywood fame (starring in ‘80s tween favorites Troop Beverly Hills and The Wizard). But it’s her extensive musical career that cemented Lewis as a part of the West’s cultural landscape, first as the front-woman of beloved indie rock band Rilo Kiley (the group broke up in 2011) and since 2006 as a dynamic, evolving solo artist whose shattering vocals continue to grow in confidence and range.
The songs on her latest album The Voyager are set in distinctly Western milieus: sun-drenched private lives of calamitous self-ruin that find cosmic reinvention at local 7-Elevens. Her sound is deceptively sweet and conjures that perfect, ‘70s-era moment when pop radio was bliss. But her songwriting is tough and complex; her lyrics are surgical in their excision of everyday unraveling. She’s like the wise-but-chill BFF that you call when everything falls apart: she’ll hear you out because she’s been there too, but she also knows that the right bottle of red wine is just as helpful (if not better). She’s right.
On Sunday afternoon, Lewis returns to Indio for the second weekend of this year’s Coachella Festival, but on Tuesday night she ventured even further into the desert for a very rare performance at Pioneertown’s fabled honky-tonk, Pappy & Harriet’s. Pioneertown is only fifty miles north of Coachella’s green polo fields but it might as well be on another planet. It’s a mythical place: the town was originally built in the ‘40s as an Old West movie set and for decades Pappy & Harriet’s was a rowdy biker bar before transforming into a desert mecca for beer, barbecue, and live music. You never know who may show up: Robert Plant, Wanda Jackson, Spiritualized...
I sat down with Lewis just moments before her starry-night performance outside at the one-of-a-kind venue. She opened the door to her dressing room (a room in the Pioneertown Motel) donning a leggy rainbow-airbrushed romper similar to the one she’s worn on tour for The Voyager and which graces that album’s cover. “It’s my homage to Gram Parsons!” she exclaimed––referencing the alt-country legend who died at the nearby Joshua Tree Inn in 1973. We talked about time travel, spirit guides, and her latest only-out-West venture: adding winemaker to her list of accomplishments.
GREG LUNA: Tell me about this week between Coachella sets. I know you’ve played several times before...
JENNY LEWIS: Six!
Does the period of time between Coachella weekends inform the second performance?
Well, there’s a sense of relaxation once you’ve played the first one because you know you can do it. I’m always so nervous leading up to Coachella. This is only my second time doing the double weekend thing... the second weekend there’s a lot less pressure. But I do think you need to wear a different outfit!
That’s crucial.
I was going to wear this and I chickened out because I’ve been wearing a pantsuit for a year now on the road and I kind of found my character for The Voyager record in a pantsuit. So to suddenly be back in hot pants as if it’s like, you know, 2007... I wasn’t really ready for that in front of 5,000 people at Coac
The songs on her latest album The Voyager are set in distinctly Western milieus: sun-drenched private lives of calamitous self-ruin that find cosmic reinvention at local 7-Elevens. Her sound is deceptively sweet and conjures that perfect, ‘70s-era moment when pop radio was bliss. But her songwriting is tough and complex; her lyrics are surgical in their excision of everyday unraveling. She’s like the wise-but-chill BFF that you call when everything falls apart: she’ll hear you out because she’s been there too, but she also knows that the right bottle of red wine is just as helpful (if not better). She’s right.
On Sunday afternoon, Lewis returns to Indio for the second weekend of this year’s Coachella Festival, but on Tuesday night she ventured even further into the desert for a very rare performance at Pioneertown’s fabled honky-tonk, Pappy & Harriet’s. Pioneertown is only fifty miles north of Coachella’s green polo fields but it might as well be on another planet. It’s a mythical place: the town was originally built in the ‘40s as an Old West movie set and for decades Pappy & Harriet’s was a rowdy biker bar before transforming into a desert mecca for beer, barbecue, and live music. You never know who may show up: Robert Plant, Wanda Jackson, Spiritualized...
I sat down with Lewis just moments before her starry-night performance outside at the one-of-a-kind venue. She opened the door to her dressing room (a room in the Pioneertown Motel) donning a leggy rainbow-airbrushed romper similar to the one she’s worn on tour for The Voyager and which graces that album’s cover. “It’s my homage to Gram Parsons!” she exclaimed––referencing the alt-country legend who died at the nearby Joshua Tree Inn in 1973. We talked about time travel, spirit guides, and her latest only-out-West venture: adding winemaker to her list of accomplishments.
GREG LUNA: Tell me about this week between Coachella sets. I know you’ve played several times before...
JENNY LEWIS: Six!
Does the period of time between Coachella weekends inform the second performance?
Well, there’s a sense of relaxation once you’ve played the first one because you know you can do it. I’m always so nervous leading up to Coachella. This is only my second time doing the double weekend thing... the second weekend there’s a lot less pressure. But I do think you need to wear a different outfit!
That’s crucial.
I was going to wear this and I chickened out because I’ve been wearing a pantsuit for a year now on the road and I kind of found my character for The Voyager record in a pantsuit. So to suddenly be back in hot pants as if it’s like, you know, 2007... I wasn’t really ready for that in front of 5,000 people at Coac