The Vaudeville Mews
Des Moines—June 3
By Jake Henneman
A pink flamingo was stooped atop Tilly and the Wall keyboardist Nick White’s instrument, its legs curved and widening as they stretched to the ground. It stared out at the audience with a statuesque pose. Questions swirled about my head. What was the meaning of the flamingo? Why are flamingos pink? Should I go down to ground level or stay in the balcony? And why are there palm tree streamers hanging from the ceiling?

After the fourth song, “Love Song,” it was announced that this summer would be “The Hot Tropical Vibes Tour.” It made sense as you looked around the stage. The five shiny, plastic, palm trees and the mic stands were decorated with strings of lush flowers, and on occasion, one or more of the bandmates adorned themselves in thin leys. The band
Exclaimed, “We’re on a tropical island in Iowa!” Maybe we were on a tropical island. It felt like it. The Mews was a sweltering place, the tightly packed goers fanned themselves off and panted for a cool breath, but the musicians on stage didn’t ever seem to be fatigued by the heat.

Tilly skipped joyfully onto stage, smiles from the band were only contained by the width of their face, and the space between their ears. It was an infectiously warm smile, and spread through the audience like a wave washing in from the Pacific Ocean. And it was
genuine. The three women lined up front-and-center and opened with the contagious “Sing Along Songs.” Jamie Williams tap-danced her ass off. She bounced around stage with the energy of a hummingbird on Red Bull, microphone-lessly singing all the lyrics. Neely Jenkins was next to her, with her calm smile and echoing full harmonies; the perfect accessory to singer Kianna Alarid, who was either holding bass or mic in-hand while she naturally belted out vocals and stomped the floor routinely like most of us normal folk would ride a bike or read a book. Derek Pressnall was off-stage, left strumming without a care in the world, content to be only halfway in the spotlight. Occasionally, in some of the high energy songs he would yelp out a “Yee-haw” to let you know he was still there kicking ass. Nick White swayed to melodies in a green shirt and periodically looked up and exchanged smiles with one of the three women.

The crowd ate it up like a cheap buffet. Many clapped to the beat, or danced as if the jolly delight was injected by Tilly, coursing through their veins. An encore was inevitable, and the band seemed, whether or not they truly were, surprised by the rush of chanting and
applause. The closer “Nights of the Living Dead” summed up the cheerful bombast of the night, but with more “fucks” then all the previous songs combined. It was a vigorous finale which built up to some crashing percussion from band and stomps and claps from the audience.

Maybe we were on a tropical island. Maybe we were in a place of flamingos, palm trees, and sweltering heat. Hell, who cares that we were in Iowa with a band from Nebraska playing before us. They were having too much fun to bat an eyelash. And to answer that question floating around your head: Flamingos are pink because of their diet, which is beta carotene-rich. And if that fun fact doesn’t get you in the mood for the “Hot Summer Tropical Vibes” tour, better check your pulse.