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THE
NATIONAL Carol Hartsell
The National recorded their first album in 2001 before playing a single live show. Now, with their third full-length release, they’re headlining venues in the United States and Europe, much to the thrill of a dedicated international fan base. Everything they do has a purposeful, sincere touch, tempered with a strange existential humor. Alligator is their most clear-eyed album to date; clear-eyed in the sense that the songs convey a unequivocal understanding that the world, and everyone in it, is baffling at best, alienating at worst. From Secret Meeting’s interior monologue on self-involvement to Looking for Astronauts lamentation on third party sympathy to Baby, We’ll Be Fine’s mournful white collar routine, Alligator dons one contemporary costume after another, masterfully acting out the enfeebled characters that inhabit them. Berninger attributes his laid bare lyrics in part to the overall intimacy of the band; the oft repeated descriptor being “two sets of brothers and one best friend.” When performing, Bryce Dessner (lead guitar) and Aaron Dessner (bass and guitar) seem in constant silent communication, with Bryan Devendorf (percussion) steering the band from behind his drum kit while his brother Scott (bass and guitar) keeps everyone together, allowing Berninger to almost fade in and out of fitful consciousness without missing a beat. To see them play live is to first and foremost see five men who trust each other implicitly. The searching lyrics, haunting melodies, cataclysmic rage and guileless beauty that inhabits Alligator’s 13 tracks is made possible by the sort of fearlessness that only comes from knowing someone always has your back. Alligator is filled with great moments: Lit Up is a raucous and bitter send up of a night on the town; Daughters of the SoHo Riots is tender, mournful and elegant; Friend of Mine is funky and strange, the kind of sore thumb you want to have on an album just to mix things up; The Geese of Beverly Road is a soaring elegy to young love; and Mr. November, the album’s closer, is perhaps the most perfect argument for anyone who asks why they should give The National a listen. Bryan Devendorf’s percussion alone on this track is enough to make you weep, if you weren’t already busy bouncing off the walls. References to precursors and contemporaries abound when discussing The National; Peter Murphy’s Love Hysteria comes to mind, but pretty much every rock band worth it’s salt has been likened to Tom Waits, Bob Dylan, Joy Division, Morrissey, etc. (Thankfully, The National probably won’t be described as the next, next Gang of Four.) All credibility-establishing touch points aside, The National is an extraordinarily gifted band that makes brave, beautiful rock music, and Alligator is their most accomplished album so far. Every listen reveals something new. Some songs, Abel and Secret Meeting, hit you from the first listen. Others, the exquisite Baby, We’ll Be Fine and City Middle, reveal themselves slowly. Having listened to Alligator some 13 times now, I still find it difficult to sum up. The best I can do is to quote a poem* Janos Pilinszky wrote about a similarly dangerous, stealthy creature:
Something in that almost captures the uneasy waters of Alligator; the desire, violence, folly, passion and remorse of everyday life that these songs spring from. It is a work of heart and observation that continues to grow with every listen, and it is, perhaps most importantly, the signal of a band that is about to arrive at every shore and swallow us whole. *Fable,
Janos Pilinszky. Detail from the KZ-Oratoria, Dark Heaven Alligator, the new album from The National, is available here. Previous
releases also available at Amazon.com: The
National's official Web site: Beggar's
Banquet Records: |
Earlier Reviews:
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2003-2006 Drink at Work Ventures, All rights reserved. |
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Matt
Berninger admits he's a thief. In a recent interview on