Last night at First Avenue, Okkervil River finally made their long-awaited and highly anticipated return to Minneapolis. Playing to a full (but not sold out) house, Will Sheff and company delivered on every level...but we'll get to that in a second.
If you didn't show up early for Future Islands, let's just say you missed out big time. For 35 minutes, frontman Sam Herring bounced around the stage like a dog chasing its tail. He was the spawn of Morrissey, Henry Rollins and the monster from Cloverfield. He wailed and screamed and howled and cried in anguish, then was chipper beyond belief between songs. He once stuffed his entire right fist into his mouth before slapping himself continuously on the face and chest. He gave it his all to a crowd with little to no background info on the trio. It worked...and Future Islands, with their sprawling synthed out vibe, sounded damn good in the process.
Titus Andronicus, arguably one of the hardest working young bands touring today, came on next and did what they do best...treated the receptive and appreciative crowd to 45 minutes of ear-shattering, face-blistering rock and roll. After supporting Bright Eyes over 2 nights at First Avenue in April, I really expected Titus Andronicus' next Minneapolis gig to be a headlining one of their own. Rather, they have carved out a nice little niche as go-to openers, easily getting the crowd revved up for that night's headliner. I don't know what I can say about them that I didn't already address the last time I saw them, but let's just say that they continue to push the limits of what good old blood on your fingers rock and roll should sound like. Last night was no exception, as they one-upped themselves a mere two months after they were last in town.
After two very different bands warmed up the evening, it was just appropriate that a third (sounding very unlike the first two) was headlining. Okkervil River took the stage shortly before 11pm to a simple backdrop depicting two of the dog-people from the new "I Am Very Far." Opening with the slow burning "White Shadow Waltz," the [touring] six-piece gave us a mere glimpse of what was to come. The first songs felt purposefully restrained, as if they wanted the crowd to be equally urgent before they burst forth. This was especially true of "A Hand to Take Hold of the Scene," which saw Sheff's teeth clenched as he searched for every important word. As "Rider" began, everyone (on AND off) stage had seemed to reach a comfortable state which allowed the performance to really open up. And let's talk about those drums on "Rider." Wow. I don't think the soundman at First Avenue has made a drummer sound that good in years. Cully Symington (also of Cursive fame) sounded brisk and pointed all night. Every fill was perfectly executed, every cymbal splash and crash expertly timed. His rhythm was the ideal complement to Sheff's hypnotic storytelling.
The set list was a nice mixture of new and old, and gave me a new understanding of the recent material. Two of my least favorite songs on the new record "Piratess" and "The Valley" were played beautifully back to back. Perceptions on recorded music can change when hearing live interpretations, and mine did just that. To everyone that heard me knock the new album's first two tracks in recent weeks, I stand corrected.
As the energy in the room peaked, Sheff did the unthinkable and brought the crowd to a self-induced silence (no 'hushes' or 'shhhhhs' here) with a captivating and intoxicating rendition of "A Stone" (a song noticeably absent from the setlist I snagged post-show). "A Stone" played out as one of those moments where you don't want to be anywhere else, and even if you did, your eyes, ears and feet would be motionless and useless as they fixated on Sheff, oozing his heart into the microphone. As he strummed the final chord, the crowd appeared to mouth a collective 'wow' before bursting into deep applause.
The main set closed with the one-two punch of "Our Life is Not a Movie or Maybe" and "Lost Coastlines," two crushing songs that revitalized a late Sunday crowd that didn't yet want to go home. After we were given a psych-out moment of the screen descending (cueing no encore), it did in fact raise again quickly so the band could give us three more songs, including the expected closer "Unless It's Kicks," which brought the room to appreciative hysteria, one that undoubtedly many of us had been waiting on for years.
Thanks for a good night Okkervil River. You're welcome back any time.
