| Pitchfork |
The National became popular in a very traditional way: by releasing some really good albums, then touring the hell out of them. They're boilerplate indie, free of hot new genre tags or feature-ready backstories, which is something their detractors derive great joy from pointing out. If the National are important, rather than merely good, it's for writing about the type of lived-in moments that rock bands usually don't write about that well. The characters in National songs have real jobs, have uninteresting sex, get drunk, and lie to one another. They do so during the regular course of a workaday week, on Tuesdays and Wednesdays. The National aren't "dad-rock" so much as "men's magazine rock": music chiefly interested in the complications of being a stable person expected to own certain things and dress certain ways.On the National's fifth album, High Violet, those constraints are starting to wear on them, which makes a lot of sense: they wear on most people. In between patches of obtuse imagery, singer Matt Berninger sounds increasingly self-destructive. The record's upbeat numbers don't cheer him up so much as commiserate with him. All of this makes High Violet a dark affair, even for a band with a reputation for sad-bastard melodrama. The National have never sounded triumphant, but they can still be reassuring, with Berninger's lyrics acting as salves for our own neuroses. Six drinks in, tired of your coworkers, wishing you could just go home and laugh at sitcoms with someone? Maybe get laid? The National's got your back....full text |
| Andpluckyourstrings |
| The National proclaimed ‘High Violet’ would be their happy pop record. It’s not. Many people thought that this record would be a massive disappointment after the huge success of ‘Boxer’. It’s not. What it is, is a masterpiece. Of course we have already heard several of the songs of ‘High Violet’ before. A few songs were debuted during live shows, Bloodbuzz Ohio and Afraid Of Everyone were released as free downloads recently, and Terrible Love was debuted on Jimmy Fallon. Nothing can really prepare you for hearing ‘High Violet’ in its entirety for the first time, however. It is a true music experience. Opener Terrible Love immediately dispels any thoughts of this being a ‘happy pop album’- straight away it is the same dark, brooding The National that we have come to love, as lead singer Matt Berninger chants “It’s a terrible love and I’m walking with spiders” in that characteristically restrained baritone....full text |
| Theepochtimes |
| Having slowly and quietly built a fanbase, relying on their ultra-literate songs, The National’s popularity has reached a tipping point and fevered anticipation surrounds this, their fifth album. Opening with the raw and foreboding Terrible Love and the subdued but majestic Sorrow it’s clear the band haven’t strayed too far from their regular themes. Lyricist Matt Berninger’s oblique couplets remain a joy: “I gave my heart to the army/the only sentimental thing I could think of.” In penultimate track England, the band might even have an unintended crossover tearjerker on their hands. The only thing missing is a rabble rousing finale to rival Mr November from 2005’s Alligator....full text |
The National lyrics
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The National became popular in a very traditional way: by releasing some really good albums, then touring the hell out of them. They're boilerplate indie, free of hot new genre tags or feature-ready backstories, which is something their detractors derive great joy from pointing out. If the National are important, rather than merely good, it's for writing about the type of lived-in moments that rock bands usually don't write about that well. The characters in National songs have real jobs, have uninteresting sex, get drunk, and lie to one another. They do so during the regular course of a workaday week, on Tuesdays and Wednesdays. The National aren't "dad-rock" so much as "men's magazine rock": music chiefly interested in the complications of being a stable person expected to own certain things and dress certain ways.