Anyhow, this evening my pan of eggs and grits was accompanied by the sweet sound of Okkervil River's Will Sheff reading from Tatyana Tolstaya's White Walls which contains the story of the band's namesake. I'll be honest; I haven't a clue what the story was about but oh, goodness; I turned into a pool of mush at the sound of Mr. Sheff's voice. As far as I'm concerned, the man could read from the back of a cereal box while sitting on the toilet and it would still be sexy.
I mostly ignored Okkervil River in 2008. After The Stage Names came out in the summer of 2007 and I finally saw the band perform in September of that year at Johnny Brenda's, I sort of felt that I could finally lay that particular excitement to rest. I didn't really think to listen to The Stand Ins until a few weeks ago when I was flipping through channels at the Jones' and came across the video for Lost Coastlines. There was a spark; a flood of familiarity.
Looking back, I realize that Okkervil River has a way of consistently evoking that spark. I don't quite understand how, but they're masters of taking me back in time to where they've made their mark before.
November 16th, 2005; 1:18am: Will Sheff may be the most amazing writer ever. Well......probably not but I sure do enjoy reading his lyrics, reviews, interviews, and articles. I sorta wish that as an artist, I was more like him.
I'm still really upset about missing Okkervil River. I want to meet Sheff and tell him how amazing I think he is.
I met Will Sheff in New York outside of the Bowery Ballroom. It wasn't quite by chance; I had some idea that I should be lingering around those parts but I really wasn't expecting to actually meet the man. I had come to town on a complete whim to see Pants Yell! play the Cake Shop due to Sterling's sweet talk the previous night in Philly. The whole trip was a disaster; I ended up stranded in New York with nowhere to stay so I wandered the Lowest East Side all night until the 6:30AM Chinatown bus back to Philly showed up. It was perhaps one of the most lonely points in my history of musical adventure but thankfully, it made for a good story.
Of course by now, that initial meeting seems more like a dream. I walked up to Sheff and was completely flabbergasted. I was of course surprised because I am never short on words but for some reason when I opened my mouth, this is what tumbled out:
"Wow. You're...really tall."
Oh, God. Seriously?! The sad fact of the matter is that I really met Will Sheff and that's really what I said. I'm pretty sure that other words came out of my mouth, but I don't remember them. They were all completely wrong and I looked like an ass. (I still managed to snap a fairly decent photograph, though.)
Oct. 15th, 2006; 9:09pm: I couldn't help it; after the show I walked back to the Bowery Ballroom and plopped down on the sidewalk amid smokers and drunken couples headed home early. I could just barely hear it.....they were playing Westfall. I was freezing cold, partially because of the weather but more so because of emotion. I adjusted my scarf, lowered my head, closed my eyes, & did my best to tune out everything except for that seemingly distant music.
Memories started to flood in. I thought of home and then I remembered that weekend in Arlington with my honor society friends. It was the first time in my life when I really felt like I belonged among people. I was listening to Okkervil River that whole weekend in preperation for their show at Iota. I played them in the car for Kristin, Shannon, & Liz on the way to see the Capitol Steps. I probably said something like, "Ahhhh! SO GOOD! Aren't they just amazing?! Listen to the lyrics..."
They probably responded with something like, "Oh, Katie! You and your music...!"
And that's how it was.
That weekend.......I knew it was too good to be true. Like mostly everything else, it ended abruptly and in tears. I had no cell phone at the time and had decided to not check my email for a few days but when I saw a computer in a classroom during a scholarly group discussion, I just couldn't resist. I checked my email and boom -- life had changed in an instant. Derek was dead.
My exit was strange. It was both fast and like slow motion at the same time. I had come with friends (a rare occasion, I assure you) but I floated off alone feeling even more numb than usual. Alone, alone, alone. Why always alone? Why did Derek have to fucking overdose on heroin and turn up dead in a bathtub in Virginia Beach? Why did he have to do it then? I felt like a child standing in front of some magnificent window display with a parent tugging at my arm to drag me away. "No, you can't have that."
No friends. No Okkervil River.
I opened my eyes and felt the cold again. The tears just kept coming. No friends. No Okkervil River. This time, I only had myself to blame.
As I mentioned before, I finally got around to seeing Okkervil River in September of 2007. I cried like a baby. I also managed to make an ass of myself once again.
It's 3:30am and here I am looking at photographs and thinking the 3
words which I joyously shouted in the frightened face of Mr. Will
Sheff Himself -- IT FINALLY HAPPENED. Without further explanation, he
was whisked away. If I had known that I would only get 3 words, I
would have chosen better. I would have picked the words I gave to
Brian; keep it magic.
Those were the words written in an email to Jonathan Meiburg after the show that night. I had met the polite and soft-spoken Mr. Meiburg after I had accidentally shouted in Will's face. I later noted of the incident that, "(Sheff's) eyes got big with surprise or maybe fear and he may have even taken a step back. Before either of us could respond, he was whisked away to the backstage area by another fellow and I never saw him again."
On the plus side, Jonathan really seemed to like my photographs.
Since then, I've mostly put aside the band and the handsome literary-looking man that I can't seem to speak to......but now I have started listening to the Stand Ins and it's beginning again. Poor me and poor Mr. Sheff; the next time Okkervil River comes to DC, I will probably give it another go. Perhaps the third time will be a charm and I'll manage to say something somewhat intellectual.
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