Megan's Top 70 of 2010: #26 - The National

Why I Decree it to Be So:

I don’t love it as much as my favorite National record, Sad Songs For Dirty Lovers. I’ll go ahead and admit that right now. But I love it all the same. There’s something about this band that seems to get stronger as they go along, perhaps it’s the whole maturation process. Whatever it is, The National makes some of the finest music to wallow to that I’ve ever heard. For some reason, in my mind they often seem like sonic equivalents of the (brilliant) plays of Tennessee Williams, imperfect slivers of American Gothic steeped in layers of sorrow and yet achingly beautiful. The songs on High Violet only add to this parallel. It’s a sullen, sulky record, which is exactly what we National fans expect. High Violet is an album of regrets, and it’s beguiling in its unhappiness. Once more, the five Ohio boys turned New Yorkers have made music to soothe my weary soul. The wait for High Violet, agonizing though it may have been, was well worth it. When it comes to The National, being sad feels pretty good. (SEE MORE)

mp3: Bloodbuzz Ohio (The National from High Violet)

Album Review: The National – High Violet

Oh my, oh my, how nervous I get whenever I listen to a new National record for the first time. It’s what happens to me whenever a band I love above most others puts out new music, and is probably driven by a fear of disappointment and/or dislike. The idea that The National could release an album I didn’t love to bits and pieces caused me great distress, and explains why it took me a while to actually put up, shut up, and listen to High Violet.

I don’t love it as much as my favorite National record, Sad Songs For Dirty Lovers. I’ll go ahead and admit that right now. But I love it all the same. There’s something about this band that seems to get stronger as they go along, perhaps it’s the whole maturation process. Whatever it is, The National makes some of the finest music to wallow to that I’ve ever heard. For some reason, in my mind they often seem like sonic equivalents of the (brilliant) plays of Tennessee Williams, imperfect slivers of American Gothic steeped in layers of sorrow and yet achingly beautiful. The songs on High Violet only add to this parallel.

It’s a sullen, sulky record, which is exactly what we National fans expect. “I set a fire/just to see what it kills,” broods Matt Berninger in the fantastic “Little Faith,” just one of many perfectly gloomy lines contained in High Violet. Mr. Berninger for his part is in top vocal form, his voice raw and exposed once again. The band of brothers behind him turn in another tour de force, driving the album with tight, taut guitars and bass and another fine drumming performance. Musically, the excellent “Lemonworld” reminds me of a slowed-down “Mistaken for Strangers” from the sublime Boxer, but seems to be even more melancholy somehow, as Berninger laments “I guess I’ve always been a delicate man.” “Bloodbuzz Ohio,” “England,” “Runaway,” and all the rest are utterly captivating in their despair and dejection.

High Violet is an album of regrets, and it’s beguiling in its unhappiness. Once more, the five Ohio boys turned New Yorkers have made music to soothe my weary soul. The wait for High Violet, agonizing though it may have been, was well worth it. When it comes to The National, being sad feels pretty good.

mp3: England (The National from High Violet) (song removed by request, don't blame us)

Best Live Band of 2008: Nine Inch Nails

This one was pretty much the hardest category to choose. I was fortunate enough to see dozens of amazing bands this year, and they sure did make this one big ole bastard of a tough choice, which is why I have about a billion Honorable Mentions. But in the end, I'm pretty happy with my final decision.

I can officially state, for the record, that Nine Inch Nails just might be the best live band out there these days.

This year I saw Mr. Reznor and co. twice, one at the Virgin Festival in Baltimore in August, and again in Charlottesville last month.

I've never been a huge NIN fan (which I'm working on correcting), but each time I've seen them I've been totally blown away. They're incredible live. As in, jaw-dropping, awe-inspiring, ass-kicking incredible. It's not just that the music sounds so perfect, which it most certainly does. It's more than that. When you go to an NIN show, you're getting a total concert experience. The Charlottesville show was especially elaborate, a bonanza of fancy lighting and unique stage settings. Nearly every couple of songs, the stage setup and lighting would be rejigged to totally chage things up. And when it comes to showmanship, there are few people out there who can match the intensity of Trent Reznor.

Honorable Mention: The Stooges, Dead Confederate, These United States, Die! Die! Die! the Verve, the National, the Black Angels, Fleet Foxes, Spiritualized, My Bloody Valentine, Brian Wilson





[Photo by Megan Petty]

Live Review: MGMT @ the National, July 29

It took about a week to recover from four shows in five days (it’s no mean feat the older you get). The icing on that delightful, if somewhat ridiculous, cake of musical delectableness was my second absolutely yummy MGMT show in as many nights, this one at the absolutely gorgeous National.

I felt like half of Richmond was there with me, the place was so busy. We were treated to fantastic opening sets by Kuroma and Violens, both of whom you should immediately seek out and fall in love with. As for MGMT, well, they picked up right where they left off from the 9:30 show.

A very, very lengthy instrumental intro led into “4th Dimensional Transition,” which felt a bit fast but not horribly so. My favorite MGMT song, “Pieces of What,” was next, and the twang slayed me once more. It’s one of those songs that has the ability to turn my knees to jelly whenever I hear it. Before launching into “Weekend Wars,” the National was sanctioned as a “cool place to play,” which pleased the assembled mob greatly. As for the song itself, well, “Weekend Wars” was spotless as can be, with slightly less bratitude in the vocals than can be found on the Oracular Spectacular LP.

Hank from Kuroma ventured onto the stage to join MGMT for “Of Moons, Birds & Monsters,” and if there is one thing I think we’ve all learned over time it’s that you can never have enough guitars onstage. Hank was a welcome addition to the already full sound emanating from the stage. “The Youth” was next, which felt appropriate given the possible average age of the persons taking in the show.

The kids went absolutely out of their minds for “Electric Feel,” and you’re a stoic soul indeed if you’re not getting into the groove by the end of the song. Age and the need for sleep got the best of me, and as the strains of “Time to Pretend” filled the National, I stopped to ogle the adorable boy manning the merch booth before heading home, visions of electric eels dancing in my head. They’re not your grandparent’s lullabies, but MGMT works for me.

Live Review: The National @ the National, June 22

Evidently, the novelty of seeing the National play at the National was not lost on my fellow Richmonders. Sure, I haven’t actually seen all that many shows here since relocating last fall, but the National is a big place, and the it was heaving with people. I ventured up to the nosebleed section to avoid the creeping feelings of claustrophobia, and to enjoy a birds-eye view of a band I hadn’t quite realized I had missed so much. The cynical part of me wondered just how many of the assembled masses were here simply to see the double National, while the slightly less cynical part of me felt a little proud that my beloved quintet was now drawing such large crowds.

When last I saw them, the National was touring their absurdly good album Alligator, and the Black Cat was moderately full. The mood was somewhat somber; mouthpiece Matt Berninger was sick and unhappy, and though the show was phenomenal the aftertaste was not so sweet. But something was palpably different this night, from the moment the band walked onstage to the strains of Leonard Cohen’s “Famous Blue Raincoat” to the last note of the second encore. Maybe it was the crowd’s unbridled affection given voice in rapturous cheers before and after every single song. Maybe it was the band, enjoying headlining a show after a month spent opening for R.E.M. (as Berninger said, “it’s so nice to play inside at night again.”). Maybe it was just the goofiness of playing a venue with the same name as your band. Whatever it was, the band, and for that matter the crowd, was better than I ever thought possible. And believe you me, that’s pretty fucking good.

For most of the set, the spacious stage was full, the original five being aided by a trio of boys with horns, keys, and a violin. It seemed imperative the plus three were there, as they helped give the songs a richness beyond even what the albums offer. It took about half of opening song “Start a War” for me to start thinking how much I love this band. In a way, they’re a classic American rock band; poignant lyrics and strong, powerful instrumentation. Matt Berninger is a story-teller, a scene-setter, capable of writing beautiful songs about the little details in addition to standard song fodder.

It was a love-fest from start to finish. The band was jubilant, and even the most mope-inducing songs were played with an air of celebration. Thank-you’s were said after nearly every song, and occasional spates of endearing banter peppered the set. Naturally, the band/venue name thing came up, and Berninger jokingly said how nice it was to have the venue named after them.

High points abounded, from the deafening clap-along to Bryan Devendorf’s pounding opening drums in “Squalor Victoria” to the introduction of “Abel” as “not religious” and Berninger’s intensity therein while shouting “my mind’s not right,” to the dedication of one of my absolute favorites, the hypnotic “Wasp Nest,” to Mama Dessner. The whole show was breathtaking. Many of the songs were given the extended instrumental treatment, featuring various solos and played long past their original stopping points. At the end of “Ada,” one of my favorites from latest album Boxer, someone yelled “amazing,” and the band collectively blushed. Adding to their nice-guy mystique, “Daughters of the Soho Riots” was dedicated to opening band Centro-Matic. “Mistaken for Strangers” was one of the strongest songs of the night, ferocious from start to finish. And to my amazement, the crowd sang along to “Fake Empire,” the final song of the set. It was the perfect way to close, but the crowd wasn’t going anywhere.

Happily, neither was the band. Mere moments later they were back, greeted by a roar from a still-jammed venue. Berninger opened by telling a story about the R.E.M. tour, and how they longed to play encores but weren’t able to. The crew cleared their stuff as soon as they went off stage. Of the trio of songs in the first encore, “All the Wine” was the most impressive to me. I’ve heard it live before, but they absolutely killed it this time. “Mr. November” was dedicated to “Barack,” and I began to think of the song in a whole new way, since I’d never before thought of it as being remotely political. The song itself was a raucous racket, just the way it ought to be.

You might have thought that would be it, another great song to close out their show. But no. The masses weren’t going anywhere, and so the band came back once more. They launched into the lovely, not oft-played “You’ve Done it Again, Virginia,” which I had never heard before. But the piece de resistance came next, their nineteenth and final song of the night. It’s in my top five National songs, and I didn’t expect to hear it. It caught my off guard. “About Today” was so beautiful, it almost made me cry.

I’ve gotta say, if it hadn’t been for that little thing in California I went to earlier, this would be my show of the year. It’s been a long, long time since I’ve been to a show where the air was as electric, and the love between audience and band so obvious. Matt Berninger said it was going to “suck to go play other venues after this,” and I don’t know that I’ll ever be able to see a show there without remembering this one. As the theme from “Rocky” played, we all emptied out onto Broad Street, and I fell a little bit more in love with a band I thought I couldn’t possibly love any more.

Set List:

Start a War
Brainy
Secret Meeting
Baby, We’ll Be Fine
Slow Show
Squalor Victoria
Racing Like a Pro
Abel
Wasp Nest
Ada
Apartment Story
Daughters of the Soho Riots
Mistaken for Strangers
Fake Empire
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Green Gloves
All the Wine
Mr. November
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You’ve Done it Again, Virginia
About Today

[photo by Megan Petty – from 2006 Black Cat show]