With hangdog frontman Matt Berninger’s baritone somewhere between Jarvis Cocker and Leonard Cohen, and rich velvet tunes loaded with spite and self-loathing, The National were undeniably seductive. Music that many took to be studied self-pity, however, was suffused with narcissistic humour and deadpan shock tactics. Alligator, their new label debut, expands on both.
On “Karen”, for instance, Berninger pursues a relationship to escape his own lack of direction, and is faced with a truly disturbing potential father-in-law: “It’s a common fetish for a doting man/ To ballerina on the coffee table/ Cock in hand.” On the Bunnymen/Joy Division spiral of “Lit Up”, the self-deprecation extends to the music itself, “This sound I make/ That only lasts a season/ And only heard by bedroom kids who buy it for that reason”.
The band themselves – two pairs of brothers, Aaron and Bryce Dressner and Scott and Bryan Devendorf – judge it near-perfectly, delicately poised between liberty and restraint. Lyrically, “Val Jester” is the simplest thing here, but the swollen strings and circular arpeggios elicit a world of heartbreak on their own. With humming guitars to the forefront, there’s an anxiety forever threatening to simmer over into full-on paranoia. In this respect – even without the vocals – it could only be the product of a teeming metropolis.
It is Berninger’s fragile ego and his luxuriant words which dominate, though. “I’m a perfect piece of ass,” he proclaims in the shadowy strut of “All The Wine” (previously on last year’s excellent mini-album, Cherry Tree). And by the closing “Mr November” he is almost desperately upbeat: “The English are waiting,” he notes, as the deadline set by new label Beggar’s Banquet looms, “And I don’t know what to do/ In my best clothes/ I’m the new blue blood/ I’m the new white hope”. Remarkably, it’s no idle boast.
By Rob Hughes
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ontario
Alligator's opening number, "Secret Meeting", has the oft-repeated line, "I had a secret meeting in the basement of my brain." You may not know it, but you've been invited or dragged along to this meeting; and this is the group support meeting of all group support meetings. Forget Edward Norton's character in Fight Club, addicted to support meetings for everything under the sun, forget what he saw and heard; this is a meeting between a man and his reflection... with a stark, bare bulb swinging back and forth above his troubled head. Although if you are familiar with just a part of this bands catalogue, then you know this is their territory.
The National's Alligator did show dark promise with early previews of the tracks, "All The Wine" and "Abel". But repeated listening to the album has exposed cracks; in Matt Berninger's singing, in the songs themselves, and even in the "...perfect piece of ass..." belonging to the singing narrator of "All The Wine". In fact, this is the first album of The National's I have had a chance to listen to in whole (no pun intended). Previous exposure was random mp3s found online, and these were for the most part very memorable songs, "Wasp Nest", "Murder Me Rachael", and "Son".
Yes, Berninger has a fascinating voice, but it clearly has its limits and they become evident over the playing of an entire album. He can also turn a nice phrase from time to time, but he underscores them with lines as bland as the good ones shine. Vocally, he is, in Hollywood parlance, a 'personality', as opposed to a gifted thespian. Jeff Buckley was a gifted thespian, a musical Brando, Clift, or Dean. Berninger is more a-kin to a movie 'star', his 'personality' shines on record, he's a John Wayne or Jimmy Stewart, even closer still to a B-movie star like Ronald Reagan (I'm trying to avoid current movie stars here).
This album is a slow grower and if the atmospheric music generated by the dual brother pairings of the Dessners and the Devendorfs, or the misleadingly laid-back rumble of Berninger's vocal doesn't grab you right off, you may not give this disc the chance it needs to take root. It's a good record, one that some will label great... just not me.
*sixeyes
Powys
I was bowled over by Mr November found myself carried in the arms of cheerleaders in work such a hooky tune.The whole cd does not live up to that promise in reality.A plodder through most of the tracks with Looking for Astronauts and All the Wine lifting it somewhat. Generally lo key and too laid back and understated.If they ring your bell thats great I feel like the jerk who bought the cd on the strenght of one track, which Iam.
MI
I happened upon Alligator at a local record shop. It is an amazing find. Taken as a whole, the song cycle flows and jerks along effectively. The entire album has a nearly palpable feeling of uncertainty and paranoia. Lyrically, Mark Berninger fascinates and confounds. He provides rich detail while simultaneously giving the songs a mysterious allure.
Musically, the songs have as much depth as the lyrics, with new melodies creeping through with each listen. Take the album on the whole. From the high flying "Lit Up" to the slow-burning "City Middle," there is so much more here than the very assessable "All The Wine." Gifted, very real, and truly a gem, The National has hit its stride. Alligator deserves repeated listenings.
WEST YORKS
Surprised by previous reviewers lukewarm response to this superbly structured, understated album. The albums lyrical combination of morose self-loathing and grandiose egotism with intricate, layered musical arrangements make one of the best albums I have heard in a long time. Fully deserves Uncut's 5-star rating.
