Andrew's #7 - "Conversation 16" by The National

"Conversation 16" by the National

Andrew

I left High Violet, the latest album by indie juggernauts the National, in the CD player of my girlfriend's car for a while last summer. At one point, her mother borrowed the car and when she cranked up the CD player, "Conversation 16" by the National came on. She liked the song well enough until she thought she heard rangy lead-singer Matt Berninger say, "I was afraid I'd eat your breast," at which point, disgusted, she turned off the song.

The lyric is actually, "I was afraid I'd eat your brains," but the feeling remains. Matt Berninger writes dark, witty, often unsettling lyrics. And when they're layered atop the classically-trained Dessner brothers simultaneously immaculate and murky melodies, the result is heaven. A depressing, sometimes jaded, often elegiac heaven.

All of the elements are in place here: Berninger's baritone, driving guitars, and an intense drum presence. Which is one of the of the key strengths of the National and of this song in particular: their willingness to allow the drums to be more than just a part of the rhythm section. Bryan Devendorf's drumming has a voice and often takes on an almost lyrical quality in the National's music. And when he hammers the transition into the chorus in this song it just fucking rocks.

Seth

Hey, I've heard this one! Anyway, I am a huge fan of the National. Their first two records point to a band with great things on the horizon, a promise fulfilled by their third and fourth records. I think Alligator is a top-to-bottom classic without a single weak track on it and Boxer is a brilliantly moody follow-up. When I still lived in New York I would frequently listen to these on my iPod and find that I'd just walked from my Midtown East office to the East Village without noticing.

All of which goes to why I was so distressed when I was the only person not bowled over by High Violet. Normally, I hear Matt Berninger's angelic baritone and I can practically feel the dopamine squirting into my brain. (Yuck.) The problem for me, again, is lyrical.

What I love about the National is Berninger's lyrics. Not to minimize the contribution of the Dessner and Devendorf brothers--their intense, brooding music is a perfect stage for Berninger's meditations--but the singer has always taken the spotlight. He writes songs that are simultaneously optimistic and suffused with a sense of dread. His lyrics perfectly capture what living in 21st century America feels like to me: I am very hopeful about my future, both professional and personal. Both my friends and myself, I'm convinced, will get all the things that people want out of life (love, a fulfilling career, bottle after bottle of sweet, delicious bourbon). I am fearful, however, of the fate of my country and the world around me. The constant insanity of the Vast Right Wing Conspiracy and the paranoid lunacy of all the Glenns Beck and Sarahs Palin of the world makes me think humanity might be doomed (and, in darker moments, that such a fate might not be so bad). This dichotomy between hope and despair is what I get from and relate to in Berninger's lyrics.

Most of High Violet lacked the same intensity that I found in the two previous records. I still like it a lot, but I don't love it with the same passion I did Alligator and Boxer. The zombie referencing line in this song is a perfect example: Berninger's singing has always held a certain theatrical element. This flair for the dramatic, though, runs more towards Shakespeare than Charles Busch. Berninger's the guy you want playing Hamlet or Richard III with the smoldering, brutal intensity of an Olivier or a Burton. He's never going to be the hero in some campy horror film. Frankly, he almost sounds like he thinks these lyrics are beneath him and he doesn't give it the middle school garage band reading that it seems to beg for. In his mouth, this line just sounds flat.

Again, I don't dislike this song; High Violet just didn't move me as much as its predecessor. Still, at the end of the day, a mediocre National record is still a pretty fucking great thing. And I'll buy the next one the day it comes out.