The National - High Violet
In this age of firework careers, where media and blog-hype can see bands’ fortunes fluctuate before any product even hits the shelves, The National’s slow and steady rise to fame has been a refreshing counter to the norm. High Violet is the group's fifth, and most commercially successful, LP to date; its widespread popularity has consolidated the New Yorkers’ hard-earned success – the latest, and most pleasing, chapter in a career built on old-fashioned virtues of constant touring, critical acclaim and word-of-mouth. All of which sounds incredibly boring; and on the face of it The National certainly aren’t the world’s most exciting band. Their records are elegiac slow-burners, Matt Berninger’s voice paying its dues to Stuart Staples' (of labelmates Tindersticks) ‘club style’ warbling, and the lyrics detail a very middle-aged, and middle-class, set of conceits.
But oh, what details. And what songs. On ‘Anyone’s Ghost’, when Berninger sings “I had a hole in the middle where the lightning went through / I told my friends not to worry”, he brilliantly captures the murky don’t-ask-don’t-tell world of covered-up male emotions. Middle-class lives falling short of expectations and the feeling of being caught adrift are recurring themes, and they’re invariably depicted with a literary deftness – I was continually put in mind of Richard Ford’s ‘The Sportswriter’. ‘Lemonworld’ is particularly wonderful, the lines “Takes me a day to remember a day / I didn’t mean to let it get out of hand” effortlessly conveying the sense of a man lost in the world. He has neither the will nor the desire to escape from his torpor, as the chorus attests: “You and your sister live in a lemonworld / I want to sit in and die”. No alarms and no surprises please.
Musically, The National are masters of their domain. What’s most pleasing is how they’ve succeeded in graduating to the higher echelons of the charts without blanding-out in any way. Here, they’re unafraid to begin proceedings with the rumbling, dirge-like guitars of ‘Terrible Love’ – think of R.E.M. opening Automatic… with ‘Drive’. High Violet is a record to sink into, and these tunes are built to last; hooks and choruses unfurl slowly rather than explode from the rooftops. There are some lovely touches: the jittery squiggles of guitar on the superb ‘Afraid of Everyone’ being a case in point. And much like The Walkmen (another well-travelled band of semi-veterans), these guys boast a rhythm section with the ability to add serious value.
It hardly needs saying that this is a band on a scorchingly hot run of form. I now make it four genuinely great records in a row, dating back to 2003’s Sad Songs for Dirty Lovers. That High Violet is not necessarily their best album is really saying something - the fact is you could quite easily put together strong arguments for any of their last four LPs being career-highs (Alligator probably still takes it by a nose for me). But here we have another superb addition to an exceptional catalogue. And there’s nothing boring at all about that.
Mini review
After a decade of hard-working slow-build, The National now find themselves in the position where their name has become a byword for quality; much like R.E.M. in the ‘80s and early-‘90s, the new Yorkers are putting out one brilliant record after another these days to an incrementally growing fanbase. High Violet continues that searingly hot run: it constitutes a fourth truly great record of literate, elegant music in a row. Matt Berninger’s lyrics describe inconsequential middle-class lives in poignant detail, and the album unfolds like a series of short stories. A stunning offering from a superlative band. (Review)
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