Showing posts with label Matt Berninger. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Matt Berninger. Show all posts

Monday, August 13, 2012

EP Review: The National – Cherry Tree

This was a stopgap EP released by the National in 2004, just before their breakthrough album Alligator.  It’s generally more quiet and introspective than their full-length albums.  Wasp Nest opens with sleigh-bells, and the sparse, slow music provides a perfect bed for singer Matt Berninger’s croon of lyrics like “get over here I wanna kiss your skinny throat”.  What seems at first to be an insubstantial track is effortlessly and defiantly NOT.
There are austere ballads featuring strings like All Dolled Up In Straps “where have you been” and the dramatic title track, the latter of which builds up to a crescendo.  The subtlety of brothers Dessner and Devendorf is particularly evident on these tracks.
The EP sees the first appearance of All The Wine, probably the most commercial moment here, and the fine, picked guitars of About Today are just shaded by the penultimate track.  It’s a live version of Murder Me Rachael, ramping up the violins, guitars, pounding drums and Berninger screaming “love her to ribbons”.  It’s an edgy and powerful performance.

Monday, July 5, 2010

Album Review: The National – Sad Songs for Dirty Lovers


The National’s second album, 2003’s Sad Songs for Dirty Lovers was where the band really started off in earnest, as their self-titled debut was pretty unremarkable. Within seconds of the first track, Cardinal Song, you’re transported immediately into brooding, melancholic territory with Matt Berninger’s voice centre stage over slowly unfolding music, as Berninger lays down his ‘rules of engagement’: (“never tell the one you want that you do”). It drifts along pleasantly for 3 or 4 minutes, with hints of Red House Painters and American Music Club until the notes of a piano take the song to a different place entirely and a beautiful violin part takes over, darkening the song wonderfully. It's a brave and uncompromising start to an ambitious album.

The pace picks up with Slipping Husband, with a simple descending guitar part where Berninger sings with heavy regret, calling to mind the likes of Feargal McKee (Whipping Boy), yet with a ‘head full of attitude’ as lines like “dear we better get a drink in you before you start to bore us” illustrate. The music is superb, the band play with just the right pace.

90-Mile Water Wall is gentler, with an acoustic guitar and fiddle. Berninger is particularly prominent on this album in comparison to later albums, his voice really owns many of these songs. There are some really great lyrics here: “how could your hair have the nerve to dance around like that”. The first half of this album is as strong a set of songs as on any album by any band. It Never Happened has a similar feel, regret being the primary emotion as Berninger sings “we look younger than we feel and older than we are.”

Things get a bit heavier and dirtier with Murder Me Rachael, underpinned by a great violin part and distorted guitars and some great, if a little creepy lyrics (“I loved her to ribbons”, “tomorrow won’t be pretty”). The song builds and builds to a climax with Berninger screaming his vocals towards the end. Thirsty is quieter, though no less urgent. Again there’s a fairly simple, descending melody but on this, like many of the other songs it’s the little touches that make the songs: a little violin here, some guitar there and more great lyrics. “Take these girly arms,” Berninger sings, “and ever keep me”, very resonant lines in my view.

The heaviest song is Available, which belts along with driving guitar and heavy drums. It's not like anything else in the National's song catalogue, melodically it’s like Joy Division with added distortion, the verses are underpinned with some filthy guitars in the background. It’s one of the best songs I’ve ever heard, the melody, lyrics and music combine fantastically. There’s a kind of pause in the middle, where the song is almost catching its breath with Berninger spitting out in disgust the line “you… just… made yourself available.” The song then kicks back into gear with even more frenzy than before, until Berninger loses it completely, screaming “WHY DID YOU DRESS ME DOWN, DRESS ME DOWN?” before eschewing lyrics altogether and just screaming blue murder. It’s an utterly brilliant moment, and makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up every time.

The rest of the album isn’t quite as strong, but it would be almost impossible to keep a run of brilliant songs like those. Suffice to say that for the first seven songs alone, this an album to put up there with The Smiths, American Music Club et al. Of course, they are a different band now. Berninger has evolved as a lyricist and singer, and their songs have become subtler, yet I am saddened by the fact they don’t play these songs any more.

Saturday, May 15, 2010

Album Review: The National – High Violet


At last, a review of a current album! I’ve been looking forward to this album for some time as I am a big fan of The National. Yet there’s a tinge of sadness to this review. I have to accept by now that The National is no longer “my band”, my little secret. Recent reviews in other publications mentioned “the American Elbow” which kind of sums up my feelings. In short, they’ve been discovered by the discerning music fan. And, no doubt, the not so discerning.

I had been hoping they would follow up the wonderful Boxer with a ‘difficult’ album that would alienate people. They haven’t. It’s a really strong album, full of great songs, and easily as consistent as their last few albums. First track Terrible Love is a little atypical, starting off with some slightly rough spidery guitar (as he sings “it’s a terrible love and I’m walking with spiders”), but it builds and builds into a sort of mini-anthem. It’s a little bit of a departure for them, singer Matt Berninger sings this one in a higher register than usual, as he does on a few tracks.

With Sorrow we’re back on home ground. It’s a classic mid-tempo National track, with a wonderful ringing bassline. Berninger sings “I don’t want to get over you” which is probably a Magnetic Fields reference. Anyone’s Ghost is also a strong song of theirs, with some cello and strong drumming, and sounds like it would have fit in well on Boxer. There’s a theme of getting out of the city in the lyrics in certain songs, as referenced in Little Faith, and later in Conversation 16.

He uses his higher register for one of the stronger songs, Afraid of Everyone, which is a kind of anxious, worried song which descends in on it self. Bloodbuzz Ohio is fine, though a little like The National on auto-pilot. Runaway is just lovely, with plucked guitar and another strong bassline. Plenty of goose-bump moments in the chorus, and some nice brass to boot. Conversation 16 is like Ada off their last album Boxer gone anthemic. He references Bret Easton Ellis on this one (“I was afraid I’d eat your brains”)

England features a ringing piano line, which starts with an uplifting pattern, and then, just before it changes and you think “oh wouldn’t be great if the music went there”, the music actually does go to just that place you anticipated! It's a marvellous moment on album full of such moments. There’s a wonderfully resonant chorus line (“you must be somewhere in London, you must be loving your life in the rain”) which is a great image of loss and longing, and more brass towards the end of the song. It's got to be a Red House Painters reference, for anyone familiar with Katy Song. Vanderlyle Crybaby Geeks is the last song and Berninger is once again in his higher register, sounding a note of uncertainty. It’s a kind of awkward song and I have to commend them for finishing with this rather than the more obvious England.

Berninger is not the Mr. November of 5 years ago any more. He’s grown up, less angry but not necessarily happier, which informs his lyrics. The album itself is great, and is growing on me with each listen. When it finishes, you just want to put it on again. Definitely a strong contender for album of the year.