Back on the other side of 2008 DiS caught Okkervil River close out a three-month tour with the second of two sold-out shows at London’s Luminaire. Evidently exhausted (a covers mixtape recorded on said tour features some wonderfully sleepy artwork), Will Sheff and his cohorts managed to rattle through an exemplary set list for which they were met with a puzzling response. Reverence bordering on tepidity? Or just a bit of a weak crowd? Whatever, it makes no odds: tonight the Scala is positively teeming with enthusiastic, predominantly bearded young men (ahem) and the sense of occasion is palpable.

Opening with ‘The President’s Dead’ (the very same they closed with prior), Sheff warmly informs the crowd how happy they are to be in town, cueing a fist-pumping roar of approval. They swiftly follow up with ‘The Latest Toughs’ and ‘A Hand To Take Hold Of The Scene’ – two of the more up-tempo cuts from the latest albums, causing much excitement among the audience (indeed, before the show is through mass pogo-ing will break out front-centre stage). Unavoidable, though, is a notion the band aren’t firing on all cylinders – a touch shambolic and marred by uneven sound. Cavernous drums and prominent bass fail to gel quite right and obscure the subtlety and shade of these compositions, while the mic in front of Scott Brackett’s trumpet is woefully quiet.

For all this, there is no denying Sheff’s ability as a front-man. Dishevelled as ever in trademark blazer and tie, his vocals are carefree and buoyant, gliding in and out of tune with no regard though never failing to absolutely carry these songs. Energetic and wringing the life out of his acoustic guitar (quite literally – he’ll have to borrow one from support Jay Jay Pistolet later on), even his rueful banter (“me apologising for not really having any banter”) is spot-on. As the band forge onwards through a set leaning heavily on recent material, the levels begin to balance out and the crowd’s adulation instils in them an electrifying confidence. For all his articulate lyricism and finely-honed wordplay, Sheff has often expressed his desire that Okkervil River be viewed first and foremost a “rock and roll band”, and they are unequivocally that this evening.

Introducing ‘Okkervil River Song’ as a guide to correctly pronouncing their name, its folksy lilt and plucked mandolin are a joy, similarly so on a live outing of ‘A King And A Queen’. Epic Black Sheep Boy cut ‘So Come Back, I’m Waiting’ is if anything even slower than on record, stately and just a few strokes short of show-stopping, but no matter – ‘Our Life Is Not a Movie Or Maybe’ heralds the closing salvo of tracks, faster and leaner than usual, replete with jarring white noise interjections. A powerful ‘For Real’ is preceded by a mountain of said noise and utterly fantastic, but even this pales in comparison to ‘Westfall’. A profound and frankly terrifying meditation on the nature of malevolence, it makes for a rambunctious, unlikely sing-along, Sheff delighting in the crowd returning the lyric “Evil don’t look like anything”.

The encore sees pedal steel maestro Brain Cassidy accompany Sheff in offsetting the previous fifteen minutes’ muscular drive via an aching rendition of ‘A Stone’, before the remaining members return to finish with a blistering ‘Missing Children’/’Last Love Song For Now’ double-header. “We wish we could play all night,” Sheff intones, the Scala clearly resolute in agreement. From shaky beginnings then, their performance ultimately reflects the twin grandeur and eloquence found on the wonderful full-lengths this band made their name on, and the ardour of those in attendance is entirely deserved. Y’know, even when the trumpet isn’t turned up high enough and the vocals aren’t entirely in key – an emotional intensity and compassion rare in modern music is present in every aspect of proceedings, and for that Okkervil River are to be commended.