Decades Into Her Career, Jenny Lewis Is Still Bringing Effortless Feminist Energy to the Stage

As Jenny Lewis, defying the Texas heat in an all black leather jumpsuit, launched into just “Just One of the Guys,” there was nary a dude in sight. Each of the four people backing her on stage were women. This shouldn’t be notable in 2023, but alas, here we are – when the only men who appear on stage are guitar techs, it stands out in the industry.

And so, too, does this line from Lewis’ opener: “When I look at myself, all I can see/I’m just another lady without a baby,” the 47-year-old sang, sticking her tongue out as audience members clustered around the stage cheered wildly.

“Just One of the Guys” came out in 2014, and Lewis has been gathering women for years, piloting the all-women supergroup (remember Nice as Fuck?) long before the gals of boygenius. So her third taping for Austin City Limits Thursday night, her second as a solo artist, featured comfortable feminist energy. In a climate where, by necessity, many prominent women in music use their still-too-rare presence in the industry as a political statement, Lewis didn’t have to say the quiet part out loud. At this point, she has made her point for years – haven’t you been listening?

Still, as early in the set she wrapped a crunchier version of “She’s Not Me,” bolstered by one of many solo bursts from guitarist Nicole Lawrence, she did take a moment to clear up the chorus: “She’s not me/She’s easy.”

”I want to clarify something with that song,” Lewis said. “She’s chill – I’m not.”

The set, coming in just under an hour and half, drew heavily from 2014’s Voyager for the front half, peppering in a few cuts from 2019’s On the Line. It felt like a centering. Lewis rotated between guitar, a Wurlitzer, and opting just for the mic, on those occasions taking to a small platform complete with a fan positioned to lift her red curls from below.

Her voice was pristine as ever, sounding untouched by decades of performing as she executed vocal quips and frills seamlessly. Known for confessional, narrative lyrics, Lewis used a measured tone for the lyrics heavy on storytelling. On “Late Bloomer” it occurred to me that if people have a sing-songy quality to their speaking voice, Lewis might be the inverse of that, bringing clear roots to her voice as she wove worlds. But in an instant, she could flip to impressive vocal feats, hitting high notes on “Red Bull and Hennessy” that are rarely heard outside of the safety of studios.

Much of the back half of the set was reserved for Joy’all, released in June, offering rawer looks at fresh material. The pedal steel on “Psychos” and “Apples and Oranges” rang out with more of an accent, unabashedly twangy when freed from the album mix. The Jimmy Buffet-esque “Puppy and a Truck” – a special “backstage request” from her dog, Bobby Rhubarb – made much more sense with Lewis’ live delivery, charming in the places that might make you groan on the record. And the road-ready driving guitar of “Love Feel” felt messier in the best ways, with Lewis fully inhabiting her rock & roll discipleship as she punched through vocal inflections.

But she reserved the closer for a song from “way back when,” she explained shortly before the first chord’s ring drew shouts of recognition. Lewis let Lawrence take the insistent acoustic guitar strumming of “With Arms Outstretched” as she focused on delivering the type of earnest, heartfelt singing that brought so many fans of hers along with her from the Rilo Kiley days. It was a quiet sing-along: An attempt to get the audience to complete the line “with your arms outstretched to me” may have been thwarted by a lack of vocal range. But there were plenty of people mouthing the words to themselves, or grabbing the arms of the people next to them, as if to say, “Remember what this felt like?”

Even if she didn’t say it, that one was for the girls.