OK I’m starting with Family Cactus, just to get them out of the way. The Family Cactus are a ‘nice’ band. They write ‘nice’ songs about Thistle Hall and various other nostalgic NZ/Wellington scenarios that I have trouble believing them being an actual part of. They are good musicians, that much is evident, and their singing chops are really good.

Nice is a very double-edged word. And after so many builds and lulls, so many repeated ‘meaningful’ one-liners, one couldn’t help but think that they were trying too hard to attain the anthemic state that bands like Arcade Fire or headliners Okkervil River have achieved. They had a big crowd of older people who got really angry at people moving in the Okkervil River set as well. That’s ‘nice’ too.

In the 14 months between Okkervil River’s last visit and their show at Bodega on Wednesday night, a couple of distinct changes have been made to the Texas outfits aesthetic. Brian Cassidy has been replaced by the hot younger sister of Regine Chassagne (ok so she’s actually Lauren Gurgiolo of The Dialtones, but still). The biggest change, however, was the unashamed positive flow throughout the band (which I’m guessing was elicited by the change in political climate in USA since their last visit). Their last show was brimming with venom and spite, songs like The Presidents Dead, Black and For Real being felt by the band as much as they were played, given their discontent with the seemingly imminent victory of Hillary Clinton. However this time around we saw, weirdly, a happy Okkervil River. Frontman, songwriting powerhouse and band cornerstone Will Sheff arrived onstage bearded and smiling, cracking the occasional joke, clapping along with the crowd, and venturing out for an unprecedented second encore of Red at the shows end. The setlist itself ran through the majority of The Stage Names and The Stand Ins, with a splash of Black Sheep Boy and an encore stemming from Don’t Fall in Love with Everyone You See.

The opening salvo of songs, including Pop Lie, Singer Songwriter and A Girl in Port laid down their ground rules for the night as well- this was a high-spirited show, not to be dampened with the harsh lyric that permeates throughout so much of the Okkervil River catalogue. However, calls for For Real persisted, and eventually Sheff obliged. Forming from a jam session, it underpinned why the show overall was a disappointment. A happy Okkervil River is all well and good; it was a treat to see a band play more than cheesy synth-pop and fully enjoy themselves. However, so many of the tracks they played lacked the potency they should have conveyed, due largely to the lax, jovial nature of the show, evident in the lack of intensity from the band during For Real – obviously they can’t be at their peak the whole time, but when the fundamental feeling of the song is lost in the relaxedness, it doesn’t make for the best performance- something which was further underlined by the all-too-apparent slips in band timing when the songs changed tempo (Lost Coastlines, I’m looking at you pointedly). That being said, the near-catastrophic mixups in the bridge of Our Life Is Not A Movie Or Maybe provided one of the nights highlights, Sheff saving the band with some ad-lib imagery of a dusty old man upon his chair (ok it sounded way better from him – wouldn’t most stories?)

I hate to sound like the anti-fun cunt, but Okkervil River are not a band who are at their best when they’re happy. Case in point? A Stone, which was in danger of being drowned out by a chatty crowd until Sheff hushed them with a single finger. Pained and heartwrenching, it is a prime example of Sheff’s heart-on-sleeve delivery. Seriously, the man could read a fucking Vice ‘Don’t’ and drive you to tears. Sadly, it was one of a handful of moments where the songs were played a vigour (or in this case, sadness) befitting of them. The show’s highlight came at the end of the main set, where, after a solid rendition of All The Latest Toughs, Sheff & co. tore into a spirited version of Unless Its Kicks. Emotionally intense yet overwhelmingly hopeful, it was a beacon, as much for the band as it was for the crowd. A song about the need to continue on, despite everything around you falling apart, it was as relevant for this version of Okkervil River as it was for the one witnessed a year ago. Whilst last years show was a band struggling to come to terms with how terrible the world around them seemed (they closed with Unless It’s Kicks then too), this version of Okkervil River were at a point where they now have to come to terms with being a larger-than-life band: a Spoon-like break into the Billboard top ten seems almost inevitable now. A sold out Bodega (SOMEONE GET RID OF THAT FUCKING PILLAR) seemed enraptured with their set, and so they should have been. It wasn’t the earnest experience of Okkervil River at their best. Rather, it was the performance of a band that now has some fame to live up to, and played up that new-found status as ‘a big indie rock band’. Whether they choose to keep the dark emotional intensity and polished performance or the positive demeanour and sloppy charm (they’re by no means mutually exclusive, but it certainly felt like it in their set) will be an interesting point when they return.
James Beavis