The National make sturdy American music, the sort of stuff that's built out of solid songs, radio-ready hooks, and tasteful, efficient arrangements. The CD's earnest, straight-ahead material is often country-flavored, but it can also evoke '80's rock anthems. Matt Berninger sings of the heart's travails in a sensitive, manly way that recalls fellow romantics like Nick Cave and Leonard Cohen. He's equally adept at packing a slew of words into a single vocal phrase or milking a single word for dramatic effect. The guitar-bass-drums lineup is nicely abetted by the occasional piano line or synth flourish. There isn't room for surprise or eccentricity on this album; everything here is completely worked out and professionally crafted. But that's one reason this disc will appeal to people with a taste for well-made rock. --Fred Cisterna
National
The National
[Brassland; 2001]
Rating: 6.6
There's no substitute for the real thing, but sometimes you take what you can get.
It's been too long since the last Silver Jews album. The wait is almost over, with a new one is due next month, but in the meantime, the debut from the National provides a decent appetizer. I hate to be so condescending, and reduce a band to simply being a primer for another band, but they had it coming. From first listen, it's pretty clear the National are going for the same elegantly wasted view of everyday American life captured so well by the Jews, from the solid, but unobtrusive musical backing that shifts focus onto the lyrical content, to the laid-back, just-more-then-slightly-inebriated delivery of singer Matt Berninger.
The only problem is, Berninger lacks Jews frontman D.C. Berman's ability to recreate life's mundane ephemera with striking and haltingly vivid imagery, as well as his gift for the kind of lyrical accent and emphasis that can make even bland statements seem revelatory. But I guess it's a little unfair to blame them for not being someone else. Taken on their own terms, the National present solid, perfectly inoffensive adult rock. Like the stuff that sits between the radio hits on a Tom Petty album, it doesn't reach out and grab your attention, but it doesn't really send you running, either. It's just kinda there.
After listening to The National three times, I couldn't readily recall any interesting lyrical phrases or melodies, but a vague feeling of satisfaction hung on my mind like residue. So I went back for fourths determined to find out why. What I found is that, if you want much out of this listening experience, you have to be determined enough to take a pick-axe to the frozen, nearly featureless surface that besets the album. So the question becomes: is the payoff worth the effort?
"Beautiful Head" starts the album off on a strong note, beginning with a sped-up Nick Drake-style acoustic guitar riff that picks up a driving beat before Berninger launches into a tale about seeing an ex-girl friend (or maybe a soon-to-be ex-girlfriend) at a party: "You walk in taller than you should/ The air is thin around your beautiful head.../ Haven't looked at me forever/ You got a diagram of associations."
The music of "Cold Girl Fever" is lifted directly from Springsteen's "Your Hometown"-- that is, until the end when menacing synth is added to the mix and an almost inaudible backwards vocal track. It took time to add this effect, so it makes you wonder why they don't make it more noticeable, which in a way sums up the whole album: what would normally be tasteful subtleties are awash in a bath of tired, homogeneous arrangements. Nothing gets stressed, just reduced to a forgettable sameness.
"Son" is a good example of this cover-up job. Hands down the best song on the album lyrically, and underpinned by a echo-y distant drum beat, lines like, "She's reading books from empty women/ They're giving beauty tips from empty hips," and the very Berman-like, "How is the water of the rain/ And how is the air of the wind," somehow become forgettable under a blanket of uninspiring, middle-of-the-road music.
They crank it up one notch for "Pay for Me," which out-Son Volts Son Volt, sounding a bit like Tindersticks reinvented as an American roots-rock band. And for about three songs, they build some momentum with "Bitters and Absolut," "John's Star," and "Watching You Well," which play up Berninger's more soulful side, while staying firmly planted in Americana.
From a production standpoint, "29 Years" is the standout track, using a scratchy LP in-groove as a rhythm track while Berninger croons atop, "You know I dreamed about you 29 years before I saw you." Then he becomes disgusted with himself, drops the mic (audibly), and ends the song abruptly. It's the only time the National seem to let their guard down and reveal their personality. The track, while clearly the high point of the album, is unfortunately followed by the droll album closer, "Anna Freud," possibly the most forgettable track here.
Ultimately, the National execute like session musicians: very pro but with a similar kind of facelessness. Frontman Berninger hasn't found a distinct voice yet, in his singing or his lyrics, but I get the feeling he very well could someday soon. Until then, they just remind me of how much I want to hear the new Silver Jews album.
-Jason Nickey, October 15, 2001
Review by Jason MacNeil
This Ohio-based band strikes a lush, adorable balance between the country-pop of bands such as Jayhawks and Golden Smog and the gloomy, depressing crooning of Tom Waits. Lead singer Matt Berninger manages to transcend leveling the fine background with some reflection and introspection on "Cold Girl Fever" and "Watching You Well." The country hues touched on in "American Mary" are only surpassed by the album's perfect song "Theory of the Crows," a morbid waltz through loneliness and loss. Throughout it all, the band manages not only to exceed their pigeonholed genres but gives a fresh perspective with brilliantly crafted numbers. Starting up where Wilco left off with their Summerteeth album, the group delivers a generous heaping of Americana and alt-country. Brilliant.
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