A lot has changed since 2008, the last time Rilo Kiley played Philadelphia before what would turn out to be a nearly two-decade-long hiatus from performing together. Back then, the oldest member of the band was 35; now he’s eligible to make catch-up contributions to his 401(k). (Boy, I hope musicians have defined contribution plans!) The band was in the midst of touring on what would be their final studio album, Under the Blacklight, not including 2013’s Rkives, albeit an extremely well-curated set of deep cuts not accompanied by a tour. Singer and multi-instrumentalist Jenny Lewis had only released her first solo album, Rabbit Fur Coat, and was about to release her second, Acid Tongue. She’s gone on to release another three solo albums, as well as two albums with side projects Jenny & Johnny and Nice as Fuck. (She also made time to tour as a member of The Postal Service.)
Fortunately, a lot has stayed the same since then, as the reunited (for the moment) band demonstrated on September 4th at Philadelphia’s Metropolitan Opera House: if anything, any changes were for the better and on display in the largest room they’ve played to date in the cheesesteak capital of the world. The setting felt significant: perhaps as a synchronistic nod to the drama inherent in many of the band’s lyrics, both fictional and otherwise, or perhaps because it didn’t start hosting bands until 2021. (Somehow poetically, the Trocadero, where I saw the band play in 2007, also has since closed.) Natalie Bergman, of Wild Belle, and her band opened the night with soulful vocals that felt like a direct descendant of Lewis’s own beloved early solo work. Her performance set a tone both introspective and mature, a fitting preamble for what was to come.
After a short set break, the lights dimmed and the house speakers began to amplify the opening notes of Rilo Kiley’s “The Execution of All Things,” the title track from my favorite of their albums. As I and the other anxious former twentysomethings accepted that this was, in fact, happening, Lewis took the stage to wild applause, accompanied by co-founding guitarist and singer Blake Sennett, Pierre de Reeder (bass, synth), and Jason Boesel (drums), as well as touring band member Harrison Whitford, and they launched into what would be a night that was as nostalgic as it was highly relevant.
On stage, the band was tight and efficient, faithfully delivering the arrangements we’ve all spent countless hours memorizing. Lewis’ youthful flirtatiousness has grown into a far more potent, easy swagger earned over a lifetime of performance. Her voice is as sharp and emotive as ever, and she commands the stage with a comfortable confidence. The band’s setlist was a textbook example of emotional resonance: for every forty/fifty-something who grew up with the band as contemporaries, there were at least as many twenty- and thirty-somethings in attendance, evidence that Lewis’ lyrics have staying power. The energy in the room was less a party than a shared experience of reverence: lots of head nodding, lots of eyes-closed singing, and a quiet devotion punctuated by moments of explosive catharsis, a vibe that felt perfectly on-brand for a Rilo Kiley show in 2025.
The band went on to deliver a set of tunes representing their full catalogue of released music. The audience experienced a collective chill as Sennett began strumming the iconic opening chords of “It’s a Hit,” a song born as a sharp critique of the Bush administration that now lands with layers of strange irony: what felt like a political tipping point then now seems tame by comparison. As Lewis began to sing, the goosebump moment wasn’t just nostalgia, but a recognition of how much the world has changed and yet how much the song’s anxiety still fits.
The emotional peak of the night came during “A Better Son/Daughter,” the secular hymn that gave name to this year’s “Sometimes When You’re On, You’re Really Fucking On” tour. The room erupted in shared release as the quiet desperation of the opening verses gave way to crashing drums and Sennett’s triumphant guitar work, offering a beacon of hope — or at least a feeling of being seen — for anyone who’s ever had to fake it to make it through.
While the band’s collective stage banter showed signs of rust, Lewis offered a moment of genuine connection when she shared her father’s roots in Philadelphia, which somehow made the massive opera house feel intimate. The band ended their encore with “Pictures of Success,” another of my favorite songs of the band’s that hit differently this time. It may be because Lewis is older and wiser, at least enough to be less angry when she sings, “And Mexico can fucking wait.” Or perhaps it’s because I’m (definitely) older and (hopefully) wiser: some kinds of wisdom come with time, and old wounds eventually scab over and become scars.
Nostalgia tours can be awesome; they also can be – and often are – weird; and the best ones are the right combination of both. With this tour following the release of a greatest hits album, Rilo Kiley offers both in spades. This reunion seems to have everything to do with the fans, and given the age range of the crowd, it’s clear that the band continues to attract more, new music or otherwise. At least that’s how I choose to remember it.
Photos by Cecilia Orlando (@ciecetakesphotos)
