Monday, June 27, 2011

Okkervil River, the Band




Okkervil River were in full form for this last tour--at least, they were in the fullest form I've yet to see. OR felt like a real band that night, a full band, but they almost didn't feel like Okkervil River; it was almost as if it were: The Will Sheff Band plays most of their new debut album, and throws in a few OR covers...you know, Will's former band. All of the above is mostly a good thing--new, unfamiliar, but good. I suppose this is somewhat an assessment of the new album, by virtue of the fact that OR's sound and dynamic has changed.

I noticed more than a couple familiar band members from their last tour with Levon Helm, over a year ago, (we all know Sheff's lineup is subject to change) but there was one in particular who stuck out: Patrick Pestorius. Pat's been in the band since the Black Sheep Boy days, but mostly as a behind-the-scenes kind of guy. On this night, he was up, front and center, next to Sheff, with his own mic and even his own singing parts. For once, there was a prominent presence in the band other than Sheff--someone to fully partner up with. I'm willing to say he is the strongest secondary personality in the band since keyboardist Jonathan Meiburg left in the mid 2000's.

Overall, the show was very good. The band played many songs from the new album, I Am Very Far, a few cuts from The Stage Names, and, surprisingly, nearly half of Black Sheep Boy, including the magnificent 8-minute-plus "So Come Back, I am Waiting." All of the songs were rocked-up, even "A Girl in Port," perhaps to find some middle ground with the mixed fan base (hard-hitting show-stealers Titus Andronicus opened). Okkervil have always been grandiose, dating all the way back to "Westfall" (which, much to my chagrin, they did not play despite several shout-out requests), but there has always been a balanced mix of intimacy--something that, aside from the ever-changing lineup, really made OR Sheff's alias at the end of it all.

Now we have a full, unified band--they've been touring and recording together for a bit, but on this night they seemed established. This was a welcome change--however, the act suffered slightly from the lack of trademark intimacy (the only solo song Sheff played was "A Stone," which was beautiful, captivating, and probably the best part of the set). In the last 15 minutes of the short, hour-long set, Sheff announced that the venue was going to kick them offstage if they went more than 3 minutes over their cutoff time; he apologized and made a pact with the audience: "Let's say fuck the encore and just barrel through as many songs as we can, what do you say?" It was remarkable. With an almost Olympic prowess, the band must've banged out at least 4 songs...back-to-back-to-back, etc, without pause. As I walked out of the venue, I still carried a semblance of an esoteric connection with the band and its music, and that was satisfying enough for me.

Thursday, May 19, 2011

The Antlers Want Your Heart to Burst Apart


Frenchkiss has always been a pretty reliable little label, one of those places I go to knowing I'll be satisfied with whatever I get--the local deli that loads all kinds of good shit on a giant roll and it's always good. They've been the home to aggressive indie stalwarts, Les Savy Fav, for some years now; they helped to bolster the ever-catchy Passion Pit. So, after a couple of years of hearing the name, The Antlers, being thrown around the various indie-blog standbys and ascribing them to the realm of fungible "it-bands," I decided to give them a shot once the Frenchkiss kiss-of-life was placed on their collective baby-soft cheek. Needless to say, I'm pleased with the result of my recent venture.



Burst Apart is the passionate new album from the Brooklyn now-trio. Released just a week ago, the album is an emotional onslaught of gooey synths, spindly guitars, and effeminate vocals provided by frontman Peter Silberman (and here I thought Britt Daniel had a deceiving range). The fluctuation of falsetto to impassioned croon gives the band quite the palate to work off of. This discrepancy is most evident at the close of the album in the shift from "Corsicana" to "Putting the Dog to Sleep," the final two tracks of Burst.

In the beautiful "Corsicana," the slow strum of clean guitars and the atmospheric air provide a backdrop to the light and extended "ooh"s that Silberman brings to the table. As he describes two people trapped in a slowly burning room, the narrator closes by imploring the other, "We should hold our breaths with mouths together now," and you almost want to stay in the room alongside them to watch the tragic, yet beautiful fire slowly consume whatever is left. In the segue from one song to the other, you can hear the wind blow through that very same room and lead us to the soul-filled soundscape of "Putting the Dog to Sleep;" it feels like a modern-day "Under the Sea" slowdance at prom, but without laying on the cheese. With what could be the same two people from the previous song, our narrator wants to clear the air with the other before the smoke overtakes them: "Don't lie to me.../Put your trust in me/I'm not gonna die alone," he assures them. While this could easily be construed as melodrama, the urgency in his voice is too earnest to not take seriously. So, when it comes to Burst Apart, take note--seriously.