That's me—giddy, wide-eyed and ridiculous after parking in downtown Raleigh yesterday. I had an hour to idle away and a self-portrait seemed appropriate. As many of you know, I've been in Virginia over the last few days visiting my family, but I slipped away and drove to North Carolina to see The National perform at the Lincoln Theater last night. They were scheduled to enthrall dozens of lucky North Carolinians at a small venue (the Lincoln Theater is about the size of Slim's in San Francisco) and tickets were only $23. How could I not go?
ps. It's going to take everything I have to keep myself from abusing happy exclamation points in this post. Be forgiving, please!
I'm a heart-clenching, ever-burgeoning admirer of The National—their 2007 effort, Boxer, is my most listened-to album of all time. I've written about this band before, and I'm going to try to keep my gushing to a minimum here. It's easy for me to explain why I think The National is one of the best bands on the earth—musically, that is—but the emotional connection is much more complicated to describe. I tried to explain it to my mother (who has been enduring my childish, aftermath shrieks of delight all day), and the term "mope rock" came to mind. But it's not the overdone, teenage angst-ridden variety. Instead, it's brooding and self-conscious, simmering and suggestive, and—counter-intuitively—quite enlivened. We go to work, find success & get promoted, feel unfulfilled, grow up unwillingly, miss our friends, fall in love, get disappointed, drink too much, get insecure, try to find meaning in our failures... and then we wake up & go right back to work again. Somehow, we find comfort in companionship.
The National pens anthems that connect with the white collar twenty/thirty-something professional who's trying to reconcile meaning in his or her life. Boxer is a thematic masterpiece in this regard. Musically, it is flawless. Full of insistent beats, heart-breaking swells and quiet polish—the songs roll & build upon each other. Yet somehow, the progression is unpredictable, I've never heard anything like it. The National boys should be damn proud. I've never been more in love!
The National played 19 songs for well over 90 minutes (3 new songs, 9 from Boxer, 5 from Alligator, 1 from Cherry Tree) and they were energetic and sounded FANTASTIC. Matt Berninger is known for being removed from the audience at times—yet this isn't a bad thing. Anyone who's seen a performance can attest that Matt puts his entire self into the songs. He tends to look off into empty space quite a bit, pacing around the stage during their more-urgent tunes.
But at this show, mister Berninger seemed at ease—he laughed and joked between songs. (He was swigging from a bottle of white wine the entire time. Matt has stated in more than one interview that he handles his stage fright with copious amounts of wine). Yet throughout the entire set, he remained vigorous—roaming around the tiny stage during every song. He even climbed off the stage at one point and waded about 10 feet into the audience, open-armed, honest and raw. There was no disconnect this time. At one point he mentioned how he was glad there was no barrier between the band and the audience—how stage security always seems bored & disappointed with National fans. He called us "listeners." The man has a point. We listen, we feel—The National fans are introspective, we are gentle.
I was in the front row—only 2 ft. from Aaron Dessner. I must admit, I was very bashful about wearing the Helvetica name-shirt that had been custom made for me, but I wanted to display my admiration. As Aaron began "Start a War," he looked right at me and said, "I like your shirt." He seemed so shy at that moment—so humble as he smiled at me. My face reddened and lit up as I exclaimed, "Thank you!" At another point during the show, I noticed Bryce Dessner observing me as well, a smile on his face. Yep, I think The National liked my t-shirt!
My favorite songs of the evening included "About Today," "Green Gloves," "Apartment Story" (which was performed at a different pace) and "Ada." I had to blink back the tears as the beginning notes of "Ada" commenced—it is my favorite song of all time. The musical construction is stunning and my mouth tends to form a perfect O whenever I hear it—Sufjan Steven's orchestral arrangements incite shivers. "Ada" reminds me of the aspects of my life that remain ambiguous—leave it all up in the air. And the notion of the relationship that Matt sings about, this "Ada" person he is waiting for... listening to her laugh through the wall. It just gets to me. Sometimes everyone seems like Adas to me. Sometimes I think I'm an Ada too. 
I'm not going to wear you down with a detail-laden, play-by-play recap of the show, but as I was leaving I took the setlist that had been taped next to Aaron's microphone. This perfect souvenir will be framed and mounted in my new abode—and maybe by then I'll stop bouncing up & down every time I gaze upon it, remembering one of the best nights of my life.
Thank you so much, Matt, Aaron, Bryce, Scott, and Bryan. Thanks for everything, xoxoxo!
Ada - The National | purchase
