Okkervil River

by David M
5.28.2002

Okay, if honesty is the best policy (which I’m really not so sure about), let’s be honest. The lead singer, songwriter and mastermind of Okkervil River is Will Sheff. Yes, that Will Sheff, hated by Audiogalaxy’s Creed-loving philistines for his scathing treatment of Sting and Mick Jagger. That Will Sheff, who I see in the office at least a couple of days a week, who I consider a friend. That Will Sheff, whose artistic output I now have to pass judgment on.

This, fortunately, is the easy part. I don’t need to hem and haw, tepidly outlining the music’s good points, while hinting just enough at its weaknesses to convince you that my opinion is objective. No-Don’t Fall in Love With Everyone You See, Okkervil River’s second album, is brilliant, engulfing, wrenching art, with few if any weaknesses. My ability to convince you that I’m sincere is irrelevant, in the same way any review of a great album is ultimately irrelevant in the age of the MP3. Once you hear, you’ll know, regardless of what I say.

Don't Fall in Love with Everyone You See

The music mixes genres, but not in the standard late-nineties way that has Magnet falling all over itself to praise the latest in klezmer hip hop or breakbeat bluegrass. There are, on the one hand, elements of raw folk and country-banjos, harmonicas, and accordions, playing songs that range from the Black Heart-ed dirge of “Bad Days” to the frantic breakdown of “Dead Dog Song”. There is the air of the forgotten and near-ruined, as if the instruments were powered by steam, hand-crank, or a spring just on the verge of breaking. Running beneath and through, though, there are florid Phil Spector/Brian Wilson style horn and string arrangements, and a lilting melodic sense that evokes the indie-pop of Beulah and The Olivia Tremor Control.

The mix is elusive and unselfconscious, not just another clever concept, but self-contained and correct. It is the perfect counterpart to the wide-ranging vocals, a mix of the bleak and lush provided by Will and bandmates Seth Warren and Zach Thomas. Zach and Seth provide sweet, tuneful backing, but Will is at the center, moaning, soaring, deadpan, exuberant. Just like Okkervil’s other creaky, antiquated instruments, Will’s voice cracks, slips just-out-of-key, threatens to explode when pushed to its edge. These imperfections only make the emotion more immediate and complex. Will’s voice is a rope bridge between mountaintops, with a view of incredible beauty, but little to keep you from plunging into an abyss.

For most of you, Will exists only as that great abstraction, the Artist, and all this will be enthrallingly uncomfortable, a gateway to new stories and emotions, brilliantly related. Like any art, it is there for your interpretations, projections, misunderstandings. For me, it is probably no different, except that its emotion, depth and intensity are invitations to interpret and misunderstand, not just a work of art, but a friend.