WXPN 88.5 Welcomes ...
Okkervil River, Typhoon
Lady Lamb The Beekeeper, Hundred Visions
1026 Spring Garden St.
Philadelphia, PA, 19123
Doors 7:00 PM / Show 7:30 PM
This event is all ages
Okkervil River formed in 1998, a band made up of singer and songwriter Will Sheff, drummer Seth Warren, and bassist Zachary Thomas. They gigged around Austin, TX for awhile and self-released a debut EP before finally attracting the attention of a small Indiana label called Jagjaguwar, who released their debut LP 'Don't Fall in Love with Everyone You See' and its follow up 'Down the River of Golden Dreams.' Critics took note of Sheff's creative drive and his dense, novelistic lyrics; Kelefa Sanneh wrote in the New York Times that "Mr. Sheff uses a rickety voice to disguise wild ambition," and Rolling Stone's David Fricke added that "Singer-songwriter Will Sheff of the haunted-country quartet Okkervil River is ready for worldwide renown."
But worldwide renown eluded Okkervil River, and by 2004 they were running out of money and worn out by a relentless touring schedule. Drummer Seth Warren had moved to California, and bassist Thomas was transitioning out of the band to spend more time with his family. Sheff decided that if the next Okkervil River record didn't find an audience he'd quit playing music. He returned from the road and rented a shack out by the Austin Airport, and the new lineup of Okkervil River -- now augmented by drummer Travis Nelsen and bassist and multi-instrumentalist Howard Draper -- would rehearse there by day and Sheff would sleep on the floor by night. The material they were working up was dark and sometimes disturbing, with a deep romantic undercurrent; it was inspired by a turbulent relationship Sheff was going through at the time, by the political climate of the mid-2000s, and by the life story of influential folksinger Tim Hardin, who died of a heroin overdose in 1980. Sheff decided he'd name the album after Hardin's tune "Black Sheep Boy."
On 'Black Sheep Boy,' Sheff unpacked Hardin's two-minute recording into an expansive song cycle, woven through with themes of violence, abuse, oblivion, and longing, with periodic appearances by the title character, depicted on the iconic cover (by longtime Okkervil River illustrator William Schaff) as a grotesque horned creature with burning fire for eyes. Recorded in the dim, rickety garage studio of producer Brian Beattie, Black Sheep Boy overlaid raw electric rock, off-kilter pop, and sprawling balladry with a melodic and lyrical sensibility drawn from old American folk music. It blended acoustic textures like pump organ and mandolin with analog synths and manipulated electronic soundscapes mailed to Sheff by Seth Warren from his apartment in Berkeley, California. It sounded rough and handmade, raw and emotional, and unlike any record of its time.
Released by Jagjaguwar in early 2005, 'Black Sheep Boy' is now regarded as Okkervil River's breakthrough album. NY Times raved, "[Sheff] writes like a novelist. His songs are full of elegant phrases and unexpected images." Pitchfork named it one of the "Greatest Albums Of The Decade" and The Guardian declared it "a work of riveting ambition." Packed tours and festival dates followed, and the album's first single "For Real" found its way into the ears of Sheff's idol Lou Reed, who named Okkervil River one of his favorite contemporary bands, asked them to open for him and told Sheff, "You have a classic rock and roll voice."
On a break from touring, Sheff and a now completely reformulated Okkervil River recorded 'Black Sheep Boy Appendix,' an EP that combined re-tooled outtakes from the original sessions with new material to create a seamless whole piece, a new take on the 'Black Sheep Boy' saga.
In celebration of the ten-year anniversary of this iconic album, Jagjaguwar is proud to present the 'Black Sheep Boy Anniversary Edition,' a three-LP set combining the classic 'Black Sheep Boy' album and its counterpart the 'Black Sheep Boy Appendix' with an all new unreleased album entitled 'There Swims a Swan': full-band recordings made six months prior to the release of 'Black Sheep Boy' which illuminate the album's roots in the traditional American songbook. Featuring beautiful, emotional readings of songs popularized by such artists as Washington Phillips, Lead Belly, the Louvin Brothers, and Roscoe Holcomb, 'There Swims a Swan' takes the listener on a trip through the songs that inspired Sheff while composing 'Black Sheep Boy' and reads like a run-through of that album's themes. 'Black Sheep Boy' is celebrated for its album artwork as well as its music, and the Anniversary Edition collects that artwork in a meticulously reworked package, combining every previous element of William Schaff's imagery with a large new piece by Schaff depicting an updated 'Black Sheep Boy.' The release also includes lengthy liner notes by Will Sheff walking the listener through the circumstances surrounding the album.
For Okkervil River fans (the most high-profile of whom was recently revealed to be President Barack Obama, who included "Down Down the Deep River" on his 2015 summer playlist), the Anniversary Edition is a loving, comprehensive, richly expanded presentation of a record many consider to be one of the band's best. For those new to the band, this might be the best place to start, the first step on a long road, the opening to a forest you can get lost in.
I don't remember much, but I remember this one thing with clarity.
I was in the backyard looking up at my father; he was bent over raking leaves, explaining to me over his shoulder what it meant to be a good man–to keep your word and do the work you set out to do. I was a child then and the words were a mystery, having little conception of what kind of man I would be, what sort of work I would do or how I would set about doing it. A few years later, as all my friends were entering adolescence, I got sick. Mine was puberty with a vengeance.
In my last letter I made mention of my illness. Since then I have been asked about it often and feel I should elaborate on its significance. The illness itself offers a tempting narrative hook, but while it is romantic to dwell on the individual suffering, what matters is the universal implication: Once on the other side one finds that there are no sides, that there exists no great partition between sickness and health, only various stages of dying and various ways of surviving that death.
This discovery had on me the effect of leveling all logical binaries to be replaced by ambivalence–not only could I not tell the difference between sickness and heath, but had further difficulty telling friends from enemies, progress from regress, love from resentment, sometimes even women from men. I realized that if I were to accomplish anything it would be to recover some kind of meaning in what my friend Zach Schomburg called the Wild Meaninglessness. You can consider it one very bewildered man's attempt to explain the universe, to himself, in the language of bewilderment.
I had a lot of help. Without my friends in typhoon this music would have never reached your ears. It is thanks to them that these songs are songs and not just a bunch of quasi-apocalyptic ramblings. We recorded them on a farm in Happy Valley, OR while we lived there for a short, utopian six weeks in the spring and summer of 2012. The record is a collection of seminal life moments, in more or less chronological order, glimpsed backwards in the pale light of certain death, brought to life by a remarkable group of people who hold as I do that the work is somehow important.
When we started working on White Lighter, I had reason to believe that it would be the last thing I ever did.
It is now six months since we finished. I'm still here and there's still work to be done.
Lady Lamb The Beekeeper
More than anything, Aly Spaltro has 20,000 second-hand DVDs to thank for her first album. Despite being recorded at a proper studio in her recently adopted home of Brooklyn, Ripely Pine showcases songs conceived during her tenure at Bart's & Greg's DVD Explosion in Brunswick, Maine. Little did customers know, the same store they'd drop off their Transformers movies was providing the ideal four-year cocoon for the development of a major musical talent.
Aly worked the 3pm-11pm shift. Each night, after locking up, she'd walk past Drama and Horror, pull out her music gear from behind a wall of movies, and write and record songs until morning broke. She did this every day, drawing strength from the monotony of her routine.
During those nightly creative spells, Spaltro tested out multiple techniques, approaches and instrumentation. She brought whatever state she was in that day to the music, which served as raw expressions of her lyrical thoughts. Anger, confusion, love, happiness, and sadness reigned, and the songs ran rampant, with little form or structure. Isolated for those many hours, Aly let melodies morph together, break apart, and pair up. This is how she taught herself to write music and sing.
Spaltro chose to give herself a band name, because she had only two outlets for giving out her music; Bart's & Greg's, and a record store next door, the beloved independent Bull Moose. She arranged her CDs on the counters as free offerings, and seeing how she was often the employee at the register, didn't tell people it was her music.
That's how Lady Lamb the Beekeeper became one of the most beloved performers in Portland. Her live shows were unhinged, as melodies followed an internal logic only apparent to Spaltro herself. She sang and played guitar, and the songs offered a vivid yet brief snapshot into her expanse world. Their full glory remained in her head for reasons of access and cost. And anyway, who the hell would be able to play along with her, seeing how they followed no formal logic? Thus, she developed as a solo performer, careening from hums to screams within seconds, but always maintaining self-control.
At 23, with five years of taking music seriously under her belt, when she ventured to the next milestone—recording an album. This would be the first time she did so in a professional studio (not just her and her 8-track) and the first time she shared the process with anyone else. Luckily, she met Nadim Issa at Let 'Em Music in Brooklyn. He was taken enough by her abilities to dedicate nine full months towards the recording of Ripely Pine, and she with his producing abilities to ease comfortably into making him a part of her recording process. She wrote everything. All the songs, most of the arrangements. And the two of them assembled an album that finally fit what existed in Spaltro's mind. Keeping the songs' stark rawness, the record is a pure representation of her sound.
Ripely Pine shouts the introduction of a new talent from every groove. Here, finally, are recordings of Lady Lamb that come as close as possible to conveying the intense majestry of her live shows. And, much like her performances live, a narrative breathes through the record's progression. The album opens with urgency and anger, settles into reconciliation and reciprocation, and ultimately reaches towards resolution, realizing infatuation leads to a loss of self; instead, embracing one's own strengths is the most powerful thing of all.
No surprise that Spaltro ultimately sings a mantra of individuality. A listen to Ripely Pine proves she has a lot to say for herself and certainly doesn't need anybody's help to do it.
Collaborating with Issa kind of ruled, though. And it's going to be next to purely awesome seeing her play with a full band.
Lady Lamb the Beekeeper. You. Here. First.
Psychic Taco Rock.