Okkervil River’s Sheff gets ‘Away’ from it all
Will Sheff calls from New York, where he’s maniacally packing before an Okkervil River tour that passes through Houston this week.
A tour sounded unlikely since Sheff recently buried his band, an act referenced on “Okkervil River RIP,” the first song on new album “Away.” In the three years between “The Silver Gymnasium” and “Away,” Sheff saw his band fall apart, and then he rebuilt it.
Sheff has been the one constant in Okkervil River since it started 18 years ago in Austin. From the beginning, he has put his wordy heart on his sleeve with songs that initially drew from old folk and punk — part Tim Hardin, part Iggy Pop — with later paths cut through lush pop and new wave.
The new Okkervil made an expansive and ornamental album in “Away,” with Sheff using broader canvases for his stories: five of the nine songs top seven minutes. The album is an ambitious yet welcoming next chapter in an always rewarding arc. Sheff talked about his affinity for the forest and the album that came out of it in advance of the band’s Monday gig at White Oak Hall.
Q: I’ve thought there should be a touring musician version of Tim O’Brien’s “The Things They Carried.” A look at what some of the items that come along mean to the artist.
A: I certainly won’t go so far as to say it’s like going to Vietnam, but it is funny because it causes you to run right up against these teeny aspects of who you really are. One aspect people don’t really talk about much with personalities is about how they travel. Some people want to be so prepared that they bring a cocoon around them. They travel with their world on their back. Every thing for every situation. The bonus is you have everything. The bad part is you can throw your back out. I’ve seen some musicians who travel with their instruments and nothing more than the shirt on their back. The down side is you don’t have anything. The upside is you’re so present. You’re like an animal almost. I’ve always envied those people.
Q: So you’re a packer?
A: Yes, I’m the former. I pack and pack and pack. I really like things. I wish I didn’t. So that’s what I’m smashed up against right now. So I realize that some part of me is simply not prepared to live in the moment.
Q: You’ve always struck me as more sylvan than I. There are animals in your songs, on the album covers. Sometimes they’re birds, other times they have sharp teeth … .
A:I was raised in this tiny little town, population of 350, basically. So my playground was the woods. So much of my life and youth were spent outdoors. Somewhere along the line, it was like a voice whispered to my ear when I was in the woods, telling me a story I was only half aware I was hearing. And these days, I see that’s what was happening. At the time, it was just part of being a kid. But when I go back to my hometown in New England, I go to the woods, and I feel like I can hear that same story.
Something about the forest is deeply important to me. Some mystical link that goes back. It reminds me I’m an animal, which is something I really like. I guess it depends on who you are. My girlfriend is from Atlanta, and when she goes to the woods she’s bothered by the bugs and worried some weird guy will attack her.
So, not to invalidate your feelings on the woods, but on some level, part of the mission of my music is to resensitize people to that stuff. Remember this special dimension underneath the mundane world where we’re constantly asked to pay attention? If I can do that, I think I’m doing OK. To say, “Hey, remember this? Look at how good this is!”
Q: This album starts with the song “Okkervil River RIP.” There are some heavy thoughts on dealing with things we lose and things we keep.
A: It causes a lot of anxiety, having a brain, right? This is the third time I’ve said this now, talking about animals. But sometimes I look at a dog and just really envy it. To always be in the moment. To be happy when happiness is the appropriate emotion. And not holding onto sadness. We think and think and think, which is such a beautiful gift. And it sucks sometimes. To think about how you’re going to die. How your friends are going to die. Wondering if somebody likes you or wants you around. Feeling sad you’re not a kid anymore.
I was struggling with a lot of these emotions when I was making this record. This feeling of being freaked out about where I was in my life and how some stuff was going away that I didn’t think I’d get back. But at some point, you say enough is enough. The desperately trying to cling is what was making me sad. So it became about letting go. I can hear myself doing that on this record. And that was a tremendous change for me, to get to thinking about music and nature and these things that offer some genuine comfort — as opposed to drinking myself into a stupor as soon as it turns 5 p.m. Running from the feeling and numbing yourself. Just sit in nature and look at the sky, like your greatgreat-great-ancestors. I was on a lake recently and had this feeling of calm looking at it. Was it atavistic? I don’t know. But that thing, that feeling was real.
Q: That feeling contrasts the previous album, “The Silver Gymnasium,” which wasn’t nostalgic, exactly. But it was focused on recapturing moments from childhood.
A: Yes, and I’m so grateful for “The Silver Gymnasium.” I was feeling a level of nostalgia that a lot of people feel. You retreat to the past because the present feels scary. What you might say in therapy: You go to your young place. With Atari games and Spielberg movies. It’s cozy and warm, and there’s so much dopamine and serotonin in there. But it’s dangerous because it’s not reality. It doesn’t prepare you for reality. I was feeling that stuff, and it was hurting me with “The Silver Gymnasium.” And I knew I was indulging in something bad, but I couldn’t stop. So I made that record as a way to get those demons out. It’s like eating so much cake that you get sick and can’t eat cake anymore.
Q: Did it feel more or less honest than other songs and albums?
A: I did feel like I’d gotten to this point where I became more concerned with trying to make people happy. There’s an awareness of that in “Black Sheep Boy.” That idea of “Let’s lay bare the wounds. Strip away the (expletive) and get to the ugly reality.” That’s the first step. But “Silver Gymnasium” was more about having a good time. It’s different over time. You know how when you’re a teenager you want to listen to the Smiths and smoke clove cigarettes because the world is sad? But it’s a pose. Then you get older and realize the world really is sad and scary, but much more than you thought and more terrifyingly than you thought.
At that moment, sadness doesn’t seem romantic anymore. And you look around and see others who are hurting, and you try to find ways to comfort your friends. That’s what I’m trying to do these days. Not pretend the world isn’t sad. That doesn’t help at all. More like, “The world is sad, so what’s left? What do we do with that knowledge?” So I tried to make something pretty because beauty is comforting. I don’t know how well I did, but my plan with “Away” was to make the most beautiful thing I could.