by The National
"High Violet" finds The National at a high point, poised to either find their way at last into the hearts and minds and stereos of Middle America, or to fall back--either into hipster obscurity in the bars and art galleries of Brooklyn, or hipster exile in the suburbs--and be mourned by their dedicated fans but unremembered by the public-at-large.
Again, Berninger's observations seem more squarely aimed at the average American here than on previous works; "I still owe money to the money, to the money I owe" feels like a zeitgeist-capturing line if ever there was one, something that sounds equally apropos for Brooklyn or Brooklyn Park. And yet Berninger's unable, unwilling, and has no need to entirely shed the jaded urbanite persona he's revealed to us on previous albums. So all this leaves him with one foot still planted in white hipsterdom and another astride the white picket fence, and with no clear sense of whether he's coming or going. Whereas on "Boxer" he sang "Can I have a minute and not be nervous, and not think about my dick," here he's talking about how "we live on coffee and flowers, try not to wonder what the weather will be." He mentions hoisting his kid on his shoulders and giving him ice for his fevers, but also says, "I don't have the drugs to sort it out." Is he out of drugs? Is he off of drugs? Abstaining for the sake of the kid, the wife, himself? Or are there simply not enough varieties and quantities of drugs to give him peace of mind in such a complicated situation? Like all the best lyricists, he's written this in a way that it can be interpreted many ways, and mean many things to many people depending on which parts resonate with their own experiences.
Musically, the band's as tight as ever; they always remind me of a moonlit sea, dark and energetic, deep and intense, but with bright flashes and intricate details. They've sludged things up a bit at the end of the somewhat Springsteen-ian "Terrible Love," taking a page from their live act, where they've been doing a messy deconstruction of "About Today" as a staple closer for some time now, and "Little Faith" has wonderful low ominous strings that help make it perhaps the most brooding song they've ever written, which is really really saying something. Still, all in all, it's of a piece with their previous works, which isn't exactly a bad thing. (The album as a whole has a solid, conventional arc to it, which isn't bad, but also isn't as daring as "Alligator," which put some of the most charging and driving songs at the end of the album--the musical equivalent of trying to end a relationship with a face-melting post-breakup late-night booty call.) It closes with relatively sedate songs, "England" and "Vanderlyle Crybaby Geeks" which, one senses, are either the least exciting songs this band's written in a while, or the ones that just take the most listens to let their slow brilliance sink in.
(this is Alex's pick)
