 by Rob van Alstyne
Awkward embraces stolen behind closed doors, epic nights of bacchanalian revelry, shadowy drunken reminiscences—these are the moments in life the National have chosen to set to song. “My lyrics are mostly about awkward, uncomfortable moments,” claims front man Matt Berninger. “Private moments, inner dialogues that you wouldn’t want to say out loud. I think that’s because when writing lyrics I’m usually home alone and reflecting on things that I’m trying to figure out or deal with. Sometimes they’re personal, but other times its just kind of contemplating the elements of existence that are most interesting to me, which tend to be things that are slightly bent or flawed. All the love songs are kind of love amongst difficult little questions. Other songs are about friendship and the ugly little details that can define it. There’s no judgment made on the characters, there’s a lot of empathy. I don’t write about aliens or made up supernatural stories. The common little normal human bumps and broken parts of people’s lives are the things I care about and think are song worthy.”
Download an mp3 of the National’s song “Abel.”
 A
five-piece New-York-City-by-way-of-Cincinnati rock band, the National’s
style of slow-burn catharsis-rock may focus on tiny moments but it’s been
paired with an increasingly bigger sound on their recently released third album,
Alligator. Eschewing the studio-heavy sound of 2003’s critical
breakthrough, Sad Songs for Dirty Lovers, Alligator finds a more
visceral and rocking incarnation of the National at play. From the opening jittery
rhythms of “Secret Meeting” on through the closing clang of the
raucous “Mr. November” the order of the day is a sound simultaneously
raw yet precise. It feels like the bastard child of the Afghan Whigs’
landmark Gentleman album and Nick Cave’s The Boatman’s
Call—a dangerously libidinous but strangely dour rock ‘n’
roll cocktail for discerning tastes.
A 13-track trip through the inner torments and outer trials of characters at
the end of their rope, Berninger’s voice is the perfect vehicle for his
turbulent tales, alternately crooning in a weary honeyed warble or screaming
his head off when the job calls for it. Whether singing about a broken man holding
fast to a fading relationship on “Baby, We’ll Be Fine” (“Baby
come over I need entertaining / I had a stilted, pretending day”), or
gallivanting about New York at night in emboldened liquored-up spirits on “All
the Wine” (“I’m so sorry but the motorcade will have to go
around me this time.”) Berninger’s evocative snapshots capture the
jumbled mishmash of agony and ecstasy beating in the desperate hearts of his
carefully rendered characters.
 “Living
in New York City definitely influences my writing,” claims Berninger when
asked if life amongst the teeming multitudes of his adopted home city directly
inspired any of Alligator’s portraits of urban alienation. “You’re
constantly around people and constantly seeing beautiful human moments between
people and disgusting moments. A lot of the songs try and capture the sort of
euphoric triumphant characters and drunks you see in the streets at night. New
York is interesting—you go out drinking and feeling bulletproof and than
you almost get hit by a bus—or you go home to a small kind of normal ugly
life. The city is a constantly engaging and exciting place. It forces me to
reflect on people and how they live together, which definitely is a big part
of the songs.”
Berninger’s bandmates, two sets of brothers and lifelong friends, are
as musically simpatico as the closeness of their personal relationships would
suggest. Lean, driving rhythms anchor the brasher rock numbers, and thoughtfully
nuanced guitar licks color the moodier mid-tempo tracks. The occasional call
for reinforcements on instruments like piano, clarinet and strings add even
more arch drama on cuts like “The Geese of Beverley Road.” The National’s
sound is driven by a preternatural chemistry that can’t be faked—in
other words, these aren’t a bunch of guns for hire who met through a Village
Voice want ad. The group started as a way to blow off steam after frustrating
days at work, leisurely recording in a friend’s basement with little thought
to where the fruits of their musical labor were headed. Things have changed
a lot in the five years since then—everyone recently quit their day jobs
to devote themselves full-time to music, and the critical cachet the band’s
had from the get-go finally appears to be translating to some popular momentum
as the group’s near ubiquity on the Current’s play list attests—but
the main impetus for the group is unchanged.
 “I
can’t say how other bands’ chemistry works because this is the only
group I’ve ever been in,” claims Berninger. “We’ve just
known each other so long that we trust each other completely. We were all friends
before the band and the band is something that came out of that friendship,
so the friendships come first. We’d still be hanging out all of the time
even if we weren’t doing the band. We didn’t come together because
of some particular musical vision or goal. That makes it easier for us to do
whatever we want and not worry about how popular we get or how many records
we’re selling. We can expose our ugly sides and there’s a lot of
support. We’re not afraid to do anything or say anything. We’ve
never had a plan from the beginning. We all feel lucky just to have even gotten
this far as we have with the music. It’s just fun.” ||
The National perform on Sat., Sept. 24 at the 400 Bar with Talkdemonic.
9 p.m. $10 adv / $12 door. 21+. 400 Cedar Ave. S., Mpls. 612-332-2903.
For further information on the National check out their
official website at AmericanMary.com.
Head
on over to our mp3 page to download hundreds of tunes, including the National’s
song “Abel.”
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