October 3, 2007

Sheff gets aggressive
Okkervil River plays Higher Ground

Pat Smith | contributing writer
psmith4@smcvt.edu

Okkervil River often gets labeled a literary band, with the narrative styled lyrics of songwriter Will Sheff, but their live performance wants none of an accusation that simple. During their hour and a half set on Monday the 24th in front of a Higher Ground crowd with a wide age range, the band put on a show that left the term bookish far behind.

From the start, they played with speed, shifting from one song to the next with little hesitation, leaving the crowd and members of the band hurrying to catch up. Sheff displayed the writerly tendency to move on alone, letting the band members shift instruments and join just in time to keep their friend from leaving them being.

With his skinny, and fairly English major suit and tie, the aggressiveness of Sheff was a surprise and eventually became the most impressive aspect of the show. When he was freed of his guitar playing duties, he went at the mic with passion, tangling with it when he needed it, tossing it aside when he didn’t. Okkervil live plays faster than album tracks, and the long storytelling lyrics become a serious mission for Sheff to fulfill, working to get every lyric, every syllable in before it’s too late.

That focus, that intensity brought an extra rawness to his voice. He isn’t the greatest vocalist, his range is limited, but he isn’t one to let that bother him. He goes straight onto and through the notes he can’t hit with an urgency that makes the songs work, make the listener forget to care about accurately hitting notes, the same way he has forgotten. With all of his body movement and passion, it was not surprising that after only a few songs his tie was loosened.

Though they brought a more expansive sound, with louder piano, louder trumpet, and the crowd was recognizing their offerings from the latest album, Stage Names, the crowd wasn’t active. Slight cheers before each song, then passive enjoyment. The type of show that is easy to review, where I never feel like I am forcing detachment each time I make a note in my notebook. An enjoyable, even strong performance. But something intangible off just enough to make it forgotten a few weeks down the road.

The first hint that this was unacceptable to Okkervil River came towards the end of “Plus Ones” off of Stage Names, with Sheff belting the lines “like you really mean it” with an anger suggesting that he might really mean something up there. From there, they gave the audience something not present on their album work, a blues styled take on a song, with the rhythm guys showing off, then the guitar solo, all the while Sheff leaning his mic stand and himself over the crowd.

Ignoring the loudest applause of the night, they jumped straight into the song that would change the night, “Unless it’s Kicks”. Playing faster and faster, verging towards outright anger, they reached the middle riff of the song. A song asking “What gives this mess some grace unless it’s kicks man. Unless it’s fiction. Unless it’s sweat or songs.” Led Sheff to break down, demand, in spoken word with the beat, that this wasn’t working, that everyone needed to give more, the audience and the band. Taking off his jacket, he was breaking through, the crowd’s passion was increasing. And with a few more words, he won me over, and had me questioning the purpose of reviewing, of people taking pictures. He denied it was showbiz, that his passion wasn’t a performance, yet it came in the middle of a song entirely about performance, about life not being enough. So, with performance being played as reality, but really acknowledged as nothing but fiction, a review presented as uninfluenced reality, became an uninspiring motive.

As the rest of the crowd broke out into grins, and later, dance, my own thoughts parted. I joined with the now energetic crowd, while my thoughts played with subjectivity and the search for the real. Watched as he became more of a writer, even as it became more a rock show. Sheff often performs like he’s the only man on stage, like he is carrying on by his self, like writers imagine themselves to be doing, alone in their rooms. Yet, his band, his friends know their importance, they play along, all the while supporting his act. My notebook left my pocket less and less often, and I forgot all regret at having left my camera at home. The reality of the performance was distant enough, without another layer of perception on top.

With the crowd in on it, knowing how important their role was to him, the show became stronger and stronger. The loudest reaction came when Sheff launched his own search for the real in the song, “For Real” off of Black Sheep Boy. His body became too small for the energy and passion that he wanted to let loose, shakes and bends that he didn’t control. Like he needed to move his body as much as possible, or the energy would tear him up. His act sent spittle flying onto the mic stand, the jams became better then their album version, longer. The final pre-encore song took the audience into a singalong, the whole band dropping their play to sing “evil don’t look like anything” before departing.

Sheff returned for the encore first, now in a tee shirt and wearing glasses. He sat at the keyboard for a slow, melodic song, before his physical body again became a limitation, jerking on his chair, nearly knocking it over. For the closer, the band fully copped to performance, to the delight of the audience. A can of “rock start” fog spray abandoned all cover. Instead of the smoke that comes from nowhere, the keyboardist/trumpeter/tambourinist walked around stage, letting the audience know that yes, this is all an act, but that it is always an act if anyone is going to have any fun, or any meaning.