It's almost impossible to analyze the Will Sheff-led Okkervil River's fifth LP without remembering their fourth. The Stand Ins is the second half of an originally planned double album, the first part of which now exists in the form of 2007's fantastic The Stage Names. As a second act, The Stand Ins embellishes many of the same themes but without its predecessor's gravity or immediacy.
In a 2007 interview explaining his approach to his previous record Sheff said, "I wanted trauma to be submerged. I wanted, on the surface, there to be a party going on. We all know there's horrible stuff down in the cellar, but up here we're going to have a party." If Stage Names was about the gravity of blind optimism in the face of inherent doom, Stand Ins teaches sanguine for sanguine's sake. Both narrative designs are bolstered by purpose - and a fine brand of melodic and lyrical styling - but whereas the former disc feels like a realization, the latter approaches listeners like a manifesto.
The parallels between both albums are purposeful rather than coincidental. Stage Names staple "Savannah Smiles" has its own personal sequel on Stand Ins, "Starry Stairs." Both songs chronicle the tragic demise of an '80s rock groupie named Shannon "Savannah" Wisely, but while the eponymous track is a delicate, string-laden affair, "Stairs" is led by a persistent, lounge-y drum and bass kick. It allows itself to swell and decline as it sees fit and anchors itself with the matter-of-fact hookline: "If you don't love me, I'm sorry." "Stairs" sets a thesis for the album: exploring themes both dark and light without abandon, and more importantly, without false pretense.
Tracks like "Pop Lie" swagger with a gait similar to that of Okkervil tourmates The New Pornographers and the epic "Blue Tulip" is treated to nearly two minutes of Wrens' guitarist Charles Bissell's driving force. Even exceptions to the cheerfulness rule like "On Tour With Zykos" still attack with the blunt earnestness of lines such as, "Take your shit, take your clothes and get out of my home, I want you to love me, or I want you long gone." "Calling and Not Calling My Ex," a song title that would instill shudders were it approached by nearly any other artist, uses a similar directness to explore the usually eye-rolling pangs of heartstrings damaged.
In creating two volumes, Sheff and company have made one album slightly deeper and darker than the other, and one album more up-front. But the genius of The Stand Ins lies both in the fact that he didn't compromise artistic integrity to achieve a more straightforward message and that the two messages fit together like pieces of a puzzle.
Just imagine if it'd been a double album.
