Okkervil River

While 2005’s Black Sheep Boy drew critical admiration for Okkervil River and officially removed the rockers from the relative obscurity of the Austin indie scene, the quintet’s penchant to delve into folky guitar strings and chamber-pop forays hasn’t waned in its decade of existence.

Although the group had seemingly (gulp) gone catchy on the opening of last year’s The Stage Names (see: “Our Life Is Not A Movie or Maybe” and “Unless It’s Kicks”), all went back to normal — i.e. unpredictable — as the album progressed. And that’s exactly where the band has picked up with recent release The Stand Ins, one of the more orchestral and perhaps the most ambitious of the five albums Okkervil has produced.

Likely intended to be a double-disc with Stage Names (you’ll notice the two album covers connect “at the wrist”), The Stand Ins can be both knee-slapping (“Lost Coastlines”) and symphonic (“Bruce Wayne Campbell Interviewed on the Roof of the Chelsea Hotel, 1979”). There are horns, banjos and keyboards; some are midtempo, others uptempo, a few just plain languid.

But frontman Will Sheff’s lyricism, his love for twisting witty tales of fame and love, regret and loss, makes The Stand Ins a more interesting listen than even Stage Names, which was a perfectly pessimistic prelude to this concept album about the hefty price of stardom.

Sheff croons about downfalls — the long-forgotten glam-rocker Jobriath (“Bruce Wayne Campbell”) — and death — porn star Savannah (“Starry Stairs”) who committed suicide not long after a car accident ruined her face. Sounds heavy, yet Sheff keeps it light, with the sing-a-long chorus of “Pop Lie,” a pop song about the “liar who lied in his pop song,” telling us with a wink, “you’re lying when you sing along.”

Proving The Stand Ins is all in good fun — and good music — no matter how serious Okkervil River pretends it is.