Album sequels can be iffy territory (Reload, anyone?), but in the case of Okkervil River’s The Stand Ins, I can’t really figure out why it wasn’t released as a second disc with the acclaimed The Stage Names. It was apparently recorded at the same time, and was intended to be packaged together. Even the album art is consistent, particularly when laid together with Stage. It might also be a rare time when part two eclipses the original (just barely).
Okkervil River has the sound of a band that found its identity in roadhouses and small venues across the country. Like the Hold Steady, even their studio albums feel plucked from live performances, with all the rough folkish charms, the genial stomp that would come from rowdy crowds and the plaintive pleas of the faux-humblest of singer-songwriters. Unlike the Hold Steady, Okkervil River is a downer. Mood-wise, that is. Looking for a good time? Unless you entirely ignore every word being sung, this is not the place to go. Although not as depressing as their Black Sheep Boy, this is alternately sad and angry music, the thoughts of an observer who’s sick of what he sees. That observer is Will Sheff who, despite able support from other bandmates (especially Patrick Pestorius and his bass), is clearly the leader of this outfit.
After a brief intro track, we plunge into “Lost Coastlines,” a song dominated by a bouncy bassline, shuffling rhythm and a false sense of joy. Sheff paints a melancholy picture of a sea voyage—a figurative reference to life on the touring road—before concluding the last two-and-a-half minutes with repeated la-la-la’s, proving that not all bleak songs must be played over an atmosphere of gothic gloom. The country-fried “Singer Songwriter” follows that up with acidic declarations of, “You come from wealth, yeah, you've got wealth/What a bitch they didn't give you much else,” and, “You’ve got taste, you’ve got taste/What a waste that that’s all that you have.” Musically and thematically, both songs succeed, but “Singer” feels a bit petty. In comparison, the tragedy of “Blue Tulip” is shallow rejection, one a bit more universal, even if the music is too slow for all of its six minutes (the more rousing instrumental close is effective, though).
We’re thrown a twist in the form of “Pop Lie,” another bitter and virulent track, but one driven by a punchy pop rock melody (it even starts off sounding like a slower-by-half-a-beat version of Soundgarden’s “No Attention” and adds synths and handclaps). It’s no news that a pop singer lies (truth doesn’t usually sell records), but when he accuses us of the same lie for singing along, that sort of attack cuts deeper—not offended, just amused. Anyone seduced by the slower pace of “On Tour with Zykos” and expecting something warmer won’t be pleased when Sheff begins with, “He gets close but I choke/Take your shit/Take your clothes and get out of my home.” Along with the break-ups of “Singer Songwriter” and the organ-driven “Calling and Not Calling My Ex,” this is clearly a fellow who makes bad choices in women—or is simply doomed to be eternally incompatible. It’s no pop lie that even someone who exposes the narcissism in others might very well be a narcissist him/herself.
Sheff’s job is to find some sort of humanity in these tales of almost universally unlikable characters and he frequently succeeds. It’s not easy to spin positive feelings towards spoiled celebutantes, porn stars, vapid musicians, even more vapid groupies and the like. The strongest tale comes at the end with “Bruce Wayne Campbell Interviewed on the Roof of the Chelsea Hotel, 1979,” a tale of an AIDS victim in a time before most understood the disease and a homosexual before many came to grips with unfounded prejudices and learned to accept them as they would anyone else (at least I hope we’ve come so far). The gentle, blues-ish melody helps wrap us around Sheff murmuring, “Old times, hello, hey, I've missed you/Old life, hey now, let me in/Because you win on every issue/Now, can I kiss you?” The track is capped by, “Stars hold him in all around/‘Til he forgets the ground/‘Til he forgets the crawling way/Real people sometimes are.” It’s a fine finish to a fine album.
Although it’s missing a lot of the rousing, sing-along moments that made Okkervil River a relatively big name in indie music, it almost seems fitting considering Sheff’s openly hostile view towards the “plastic” music community. These are songs that will improve in the more personal but spontaneous environment of a (preferably intimate) live showcase. Luckily, most of the tales he tells are worth hearing no matter where. Even though it’s not an album that demands immediate replays, it’s one that gets better over time. Though Sheff might resist it, there’s no reason why Okkervil River shouldn’t be household names. Along with The Stage Names, The Stand Ins will make you reconsider the hollow and heartless things in our celeb-obsessed culture that others might worship. Could cynicism be our only hope?
"The Stand Ins" is on sale September 9, 2008 from Jagjaguwar.
