Do you have a band that soundtrack your life? The music of your memories?
Mine was, is and always will be The National, a band who’ve been playing in the background of my first loves, lost loves, sad times, happy times, party times, sleep times, journeys on planes, journeys on trains, moving in-s and moving out-s.
Last night, after almost 5 years of unadulterated adoration and no less than 3 missed opportunities to see them , I finally saw The National, and it was knee-knockingly, breathtakingly amazing.
So amazing in fact, I broke a few of my cardinal “What Not To Do At Gigs” Rules. Nominally, these are:
1. Thou shall not sing along (aloud or mouthing along silently; they’re both as bad as each other)
2. Thou shall not join in group clapping (I’m not really a crowd participation kind of girl)
3. Thou shall not sway with your eyes closed (it looks creepy)
Having left the Royal Festival Hall in between lamenting the loss of my gig misanthropy and watching A Skin, A Night in bed (I really like The National- if you hadn’t noticed by this point) I began to ponder how to write about a band you’ve loved for such a long time, so here it goes.
(A Skin, A Night trailer)
Playing songs from their last two albums (Alligator and Boxer) and an EP (Cherry Tree), as well as covering new songs like the excellent ‘Runaway’, I noticed that one of the most striking thing about The National was their ability to depart from their records, which are, even at their most upbeat are still darkly contemplative and reflective, live however their energy is palpable, their most melancholic songs live are shot through with electricity and flourish. The National are a lot more prolific than the 2007 ‘overnight’ success of Boxer would suggest, and their familiarity with their extensive back catalogue allows them to embellish upon their records, making the live show full of exciting little twists and turns.
Somewhere amidst these sonic twists and turns, I recognised The National’s ability to change the mood of not only what they were playing but also the mood of a packed out auditorium of people. Their music soars and swoops, murmurs with melancholy, heard in both Berringer’s voice and Newsome’s string solos, before crescendo-ing into a clattering wave of emotional intensity on the drums, guitars and brass. ‘Fake Empire’ ; Boxer’s opener starts with a simple, lilting piano melody and builds up to a full orchestral smorgasbord and was definitely a stand out favourite for me alongside ‘About Today’ from the aforementioned Cherry Tree EP whilst faster songs including ‘Mistaken for Strangers’ and ‘All the Wine’ pulsated with a dark emotion. The National are undoubtedly a honed and well oiled team from the drums and brass section to Padma Newsome’s dexterity on the piano and strings and it is this that enabled them to take such hairpin turns throughout their hour and a half long set, whilst retaining the interest of a legion of loyal fans, which is no mean feat.
And what of Mr. Berringer as a front man? I always had a rather specific image of him as a shy and brooding wordsmith, yet he commanded the attention of the crowd with his vocal range; from his trademark seductive baritone murmuring (‘Green Gloves’), to top-of-lungs anguished shouting (‘Abel’).
The National create a totally unique soundscape, both live and on record, a soundscape filled with towering skyscrapers and empty parties, of drunk men in dead end jobs and the women they once loved leaving them. Ok, so it ’s clearly not the Disneyworld of soundscapes but there is a real honesty and sad beauty to the images they create that inspire empathy and awe (both lyrically and melodically) in the stoniest of hearts.
So now as one of the converted to eyes closed, body swaying dancing at gigs, I unabashedly say that The National didn’t let me down live and I will continue to soundtrack a new lot of adventures with their music. Make them yours!
(Video for ‘Apartment Story’)
Tags:
americana, Indie, Live Review, london, new wave, new york, rock, The National
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