The track begins with the pathetically insulting, “No one wants to hear about your ninety-seventh tear”, an immediate and obvious reference to one of the greatest one-hit-wonders of all time, ? and the Mysterians’ “96 Tears”. Sometime next summer Numerology will let you know that it was originally titled “69 Tears”, but the number that Bill and Ted where thinking about was deemed by their record label to be too risqué for radio play. Next, we’re told that, “no one wants a tune about the 100th luftballoon”, which not only recalls another well-known one-trick pony in Nena, but also serves to reinforce the theme of fleeting music fandom. While “96 Tears” is held in at least some positive critical regard, Nena’s only U.S. hit was initially misunderstood and today exists almost solely as a punch line. There is only some faint folk guitar strumming behind these lyrics, giving the words a disorienting feel of severity, and stripping the source material of its kitsch.

Dripping piano keys and a subtle bass drum serenade the hook of “Plus Ones”, which Okkervil steals from the early R.E.M. track, “7 Chinese Brothers”. Originally found on the Athens band’s second album, the masterwork of jangling southern pop/rock, Reckoning, “Brothers” employs the usual loaded/meaningless lyrical output of R.E.M.’s ‘80s canon. Further bonus points are awarded beacuse “7 Chinese Brothers” is, as far as I can tell, the only song to use the imaginary plural of Communist, “Communi”.

The sequential stanza references three songs all released within ten years of each another: the Byrds’ “Eight Miles High”, David Bowie’s “TVC15” and the Zombies’ “Care of Cell44”. The interconnectivity of these songs can be found in their shared theme of the unsettling nature of solitude, whether it caused by altitude, drugs or incarceration, respectively. What’s more, the tempo picks up considerably, taking “Plus Ones” from being a schmaltzy, Guthrie-ish folk song into places it in the realm of Village Green-era indie-poppery. The very next section keeps within that time frame and likewise keeps the lyrics solitary, punning on Paul Simon’s unrealized “fifty-first way to leave your lover”. There is the first hint of plugged in instrumentation, and a slow fade until…

The rhythm picks right back up again and Sheff unveils a pair of witticisms, saving the best for near-last: “I told you, I can’t listen, baby, ’bout the fourth time you were a lady” and “Kitten, not everyone’s keen on lighting candle seventeen”. Great kiss-offs, both. Behind them? Stings, or course, accompanied by notquitebaroque piano plinking. Wedged betwixt these lines is a shout out to one of Tom Jones’s finest because, well, I’m not really sure what that line is doing here.

Horns (why the hell not?) lead us into the final chorus, before the whole thing drops back to where we started: Sheff’s desperate voice stretching over some loose chords. The whole thing is only 3:43 long, but even after dozens of listens, you’re still left with the feeling that, given time, this song could go on and on forever. Who knows how many numbered songs are out there? But I think that’s the point: there are always more songs; more to hear, more to fall in love with and more to forget.

Okkervil River - "The President's Dead / Plus Ones"