MUSIC REVIEW
Decemberists fun in cocky sort of way By Joshua Klein
Special to the
Chicago Tribune Published April 9, 2005
To call the rise of the Decemberists meteoric would be a bit of an overstatement; save such hyperbole for indie cause celebre the Arcade Fire. Yet the Portland, Ore., folk-rock outfit hit some sort of milestone by handily selling out the Metro Thursday night.
As demonstrated by the band's set, however, the Decemberists aren't nearly as clever and exciting as the band must think itself.
Erudite, twee and more than a little smug, songwriter Colin Meloy spins shaggy dog yarns full of exotic locales, big words and strange bedfellows, more interested in stylized affectation and fantasy than melody or sentiment.
The band, with its matching khaki and orange outfits, was with him every step of the way, but anyone not on the same wavelength as they were could easily feel that their whimsical constructions veered dangerously close to insufferable.
At least Meloy and his cohorts (including violinist and all around charming cheerleader Petra Haden) didn't take themselves as seriously live as they do on their earnest recordings. Wordy songs such as "The Infanta" and "16 Military Wives," from the group's proudly pretentious third album, "Picaresque," were endearing if not quite rousing, though just as often Meloy's literary dramas dragged.
But even at their fun best, as with "July, July!" and the Coleridge-meets-Melville sea shanty epic "The Mariner's Revenge Song," the group's smarty-pants, relentlessly precious and self-consciously quirky music came across like a folksy community theater approximation of They Might Be Giants. And as anyone familiar with that band knows, one is really enough.
Opening was the similarly aligned Okkervil River, from Austin, Texas, another six-piece and -- along with Arcade Fire, Bright Eyes and others -- part of an increasingly popular wave of shambling and endearingly precocious folk-rock.
Singer Will Sheff, prone to emotional blurts and, like his bandmates, electric and constantly in motion with nervous energy, grows bolder and more confident with each album.
Given that Okkervil River's latest album, "Black Sheep Boy," was only just released, fans were understandably more excited about older songs such as "Red" and "Kansas City," two of several crooked waltzes in the band's rapidly expanding repertoire.
While the crowd looked as if it had its fill by the end of the Decemberists' set, the bespectacled and scarf-adorned audience was dismayed when Okkervil River's tantalizing opening slot sadly came to a halt just as it was gathering steam.
