Because the shows unfolded as they did, I got the most out of both experiences. Eugene was perfect for the first time seeing this band. The Wow Hall is an interesting venue. Wood floors, pews against the walls, no fuss no muss. The bar is apparently downstairs. I had no need for the bar, so I didn't venture far from the stage after we arrived. I got to focus on drinking in the music, and watched the interactions and gestures between the members up close, no distractions. I was amazed at the energy they created. They seemed to give it their all--ignoring the fact that this was an odd little venue with a back door for backstage, and very little smoke and mirrors to set a mood. When the band took the stage, Will invited people to leave the pews and join them, which was the only time I noticed what the rest of the audience was doing. I could have cared less about anything but what was going on in front of me. It was the first time, and we all know how first times go. It was intense and hard hitting and gut wrenching and desperate. And beautiful. The songs from The Stage Names were performed just as tightly as any of the older songs. To me, the set list flowed easily from one song to the next. What started out as fun rollicking ditties built in intensity as the night progressed. In a couple of interviews, Will Sheff has talked about the idea that they wanted TSN to feel like a party, maybe a party where there is something rotten under the floorboards, but still, a party. They pull this off in the live show extremely well. The performance of “A Hand To Take Hold Of The Scene” with its poppy “do do do do dos,” contrasts the scenes that the lyrics describe. The upbeat jangle of “Black,” juxtaposed with Will's ragged vocals as he sings about the lack of justice, or want for retribution and the frustration of unrequited revenge. The dueling guitar and piano of "Our Life Is Not A Movie, Or Maybe" sonically describing a house that's “not haunted” in an almost cartoonish manner (which, by the way, in the Portland show- was hilariously fun to watch! I can see this developing into quite a highlight!).

As the night played on, the rotten thing under the floor became harder to ignore, but beautifully so. Will introduced “Black Sheep Boy” and performed it quietly with only Brian Cassidy on the slide guitar as accompaniment. Then the band rejoined for a furious rendition of “For Real,” which I can't imagine ever being dispassionate. “Westfall” was brilliant. The slower pacing of “John Allyn Smith Sails” felt like splashing around in water that steadily fills a sinking ship. When the show came to a close, I was completely dazzled. To see drummer Travis Nelson and bassist Patrick Pestorius communicate with glances and grins, to watch Jonathan Meiburg swap instruments with Scott Brackett, or see Scott play say, two at a time; these guys have chops. They project a passion for not only the process of playing, but for the songs themselves.

Portland was unexpected. Unexpected because we weren't planning on going. It was a last minute decision and we barely got in the door. The vibe was completely different then the night before. In Eugene, I was personally quite excited, but I don't know about the rest of the crowd. The Portland crowd felt like a pack of hyenas; and the humid, cave-like club gave the anticipation a grimy, sweaty edge. That audience was ravenous for something, and totally expected the band to give them whatever that something was. It changed the dynamic completely. If Eugene was about the performance, Portland was about the exchange. The crowd took, but they also gave back. They howled, roared, clapped, sang along, danced. For every single song. This crowd understood perfectly the romantic ideal of passionate desperation that the band translates into sound. The performance of a slowed down and drawn out “So Come Back I'm Waiting” was, hands down, the most intense and powerful thing I have ever witnessed. Presenting the terrible beauty of violence and estrangement and loss and disappointment, Okkervil River makes these things seem like not a lonely or depraved experience but, instead, a dark revelry--sweaty and jostling and delicious. As the set closed out with the harmonies of “The Okkervil River Song,” I felt completely spent and rung out. I don't know how the boys do this night after night.