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Okkervil River
Some bands you find out about because they've been written up on some mp3blog or other, or you can't escape the insta-hype on the intarweb from weblogs or the big P, while other bands toil away in obscurity for years and years, picking up dedicated fans along the way. And along the way, they go down one alleyway or another, and slowly but surely grow and mature and get eons better, like Okkervil River.
When I first heard Okkervil River a few years back, I described them to as a friend as Neutral Milk Hotel's sensitivity meets Bright Eyes' pathos, with a dash of Wilco of the Being There era; now I even regret that those words came out of my mouth because this band is so much more than the sum of its influences. There's something familiar, heart-warming, and universal about Okkervil River.
Although some other bands may have unfairly stolen their literary-genre thunder (*cough*Decemberists*cough), Okkervil River spearheads a different kind of rock: hand-sewn but damaged, raw and cathartic but sincere, and bursting with energy and life. This is not music for the faint of heart; these are not songs meant for shy wallflowers and restrained librarians. In fact, when Okkervil were on tour with the aforementioned lit-loving, historically dramatic band, reports from the crowd told me that Okkervil River blew the tall-socks-and-black-rimmed-glasses college sophomores right to the back wall. Why so? First off, there is very little that is naive, twee, or precious about this band, nor are they dependent on the too-cool hordes of mini-genres that pop up all of the time. Frontman Will Sheff and his merry band of followers prefer instead to play pedal steel and banjo, and then go reference a rich tradition of old-timey folk pieces and dusty, neglected volumes of fragile classics.
The Okkervils make fucked up Americana/folk rock from Austin, Texas, built upon the foundation of the warped songwriting talent of Will Sheff, famous for his throaty, hoarse vocals, and ingenious turns of phrase. They have a penchant for lush but raw orchestration, caterwauling devastation, loud-soft-loud depression, and writing eerie murder ballads. The jaw-dropping "For Real" combines gulping, foreboding basslines and a sheer, ever-increasing dread, rising through layers of static and piercing, trembling voices. Listeners are caught unawares by the surprising twists and turns of "Westfall," chills running down their spines, or blindsided by the emotional, threatening climax of "Another Radio Song." Meanwhile songs like "Seas Too Far to Reach" drawn upon stately keyboards and plucky mandolin, to create memorable, lovingly arranged, yearning ballads of loss, love, cheating, and the vast terrain of the human heart. You can almost believe the unkempt, ragged Sheff as he croons "you still haven't lost her, you still haven't lost her, not yet" on the gorgeous and sad "Red."
And of course, I must also give my stamp of approval to the wonderful, heartbreaking "Okkervil River Song." The song they wrote just so you know how to pronounce the name also happens to be one of the best folk songs written this past decade: mournful, breath-taking, shattering, a classic. They've come a long way from the fledgling band that once played a show to all of a dozen people on a weeknight at 8PM in New York's Mercury Lounge: last year, their richly rewarding, tour de force Black Sheep Boy topped many a best-of list.
I've said it before and I'll say it again: we are entirely too lucky to have bands like Okkervil River even in existence. They brought the house down at SXSW in 2004, playing the very last showcase spot on Saturday night at a small club called Tambaleo, far from the throngs of Sixth Street. Most of Austin appeared there to enthusiastically cheer on their hometown heroes, who have finally come into their own. The band threw themselves into the songs, with every mandolin or accordion solo seeming too fiery, too passionate to have come from mere mortals. I'm fairly certain I stood next to the wildly intoxicated members of the band Zykos, who did their own part heckling Will, Jonathan, Travis, and the rest of the gang. Tambourines were thrown, beer was spilled, strings were broken, and lyrics were shouted at the top of their lungs. And, then, there at 2AM, shaking on worn feet and broken-down knees, weary but enthusiastic, the entire room erupted in a joyful chorus to the songs they knew by heart, each chorus reverberating into the empty parking lot outside. And everything was just as it should always be.
Okkervil River - Westfall
Okkervil River - Okkervil River Song
Okkervil River - It Ends With A Fall
Okkervil River - Black
Okkervil River - Another Radio Song
Okkervil River's official site. Buy Black Sheep Boy from Amazon or iTunes. I also recommend the Black Sheep Boy Appendix EP; you can also purchase that from Amazon or iTunes.
Posted by Queen of the Front Row at 03.11.07 at 10:26 PM
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