Okkervil River flows like hard rain on a summer’s day in Seattle

September 17, 2008, at the Showbox

By Jonathan Shipley
Published: September 19th, 2008 | 12:10pm

The mathematical equation for a great show is really rather simple. Good musicians + good people appreciating good musicians + maracas = great show. All of that was had in good measure at Seattle’s Showbox on a pleasant Indian summer evening September 17, as Okkervil River came to delight the music-hungry 20-somethings that thronged there.

By way of Austin, Texas, Okkervil River is cementing itself as a band to be reckoned with, particularly with the spectacular albums The Stage Names and its newly released The Stand Ins, both on the Jagjaguwar label (the one they’ve used since 2002’s Don’t Fall in Love With Everyone You See). Though originally conceived as a two-CD set, the new albums can both stand on their own merits. They’re filled with powerful poetry, carousing melodies, and unusual musical structures. Both albums had songs that made it into the evening’s set as well as older stuff, including some tunes from the crushing Black Sheep Boy.

I felt a bit like a black sheep boy, myself, a 30-something among head-swaying 20-somethings — the literate guys with their designer glasses, thought-out sideburns, and dark jeans; the young women with their sleek hair mouthing the words of their favorite song.

No matter, Okkervil River puts on a show for anyone, us old fogies included. Of course, Okkervil’s heart and guts is singer-songwriter-guitarist Will Sheff, whose word craft in the songs are second-to-none. The band opened with “A Girl in Port,” in which he sings, “And before Holly made her way/Over the sea and far away/She’s telling me inside her car/Driving us back from the crystal corner bar/I lost a veil, I fell from high/Cut some fresh pieces from myself.” He did seem a bit of a pompous ass up there on stage, but he was charming and warmed the audience more the longer he played.

Wearing a brown corduroy suit and rimmed glasses, he was not like John Lennon really — more like Sean Lennon if he had a love child with Alan Cumming. He shambled all over the stage during the performance, his hair a sweaty flop, his guitar physically abused with the heavy strumming and fingerings, his voice swooning and crooning, like a bird caught in a small room. Or like a large bird wanting to break free via song. From “Singer Songwriter” he warbled “You got taste, you’ve got taste/What a waste that that’s all that you have.”

The great thing about the members of Okkervil River is that they’re great musicians (and did I mention the maracas?!). Right when you think the music is going south, when you think they’ve lost semblance of song and meter, when you think they’re careening toward a wall of cacophony-like nonsense, they gather it all together, focus, and simply hit the lights out.