More people than I would have anticipated have asked me to elucidate my position on The National’s new album, High Violet, despite my open admission that I have a difficult time writing about them in an objective way. I decided to do it here for a couple of reasons. First, self-indulgence. Second, because High Violet is the sort of album that people need to write and read about. It’s the kind of album that deserves to be considered and reconsidered. It warrants any and all of the attention it gets, in print, conversation, or just in your headphones.
The third, and maybe even more pressing, reason for me to write this review is because I realized that I actually could write about it objectively. That is, this album doesn’t just scratch some itch of mine; it’s an objectively stunning record, and I want to pay it the small tribute of putting on (fake) paper my impressions of it, or rather, its impressions upon me. So I’m going to write it. I’m going to write all of it. It’ll be long. You may not want to read all of it, but that’s fine. It had to be said. This is, after all, the record of our young century.
High Violet quite simply and without question cements The National’s position as the greatest band to come out of America this generation (or, I would argue, the last). In a lot of ways, they’re the second coming of The Doors, Matt Berninger’s lyrical and vocal styles are totally his own, much like Jim Morrison’s were – and they’re equally divisive. But they are masterfully contained and cohered on this record. Berninger renders pictures of the multidimensional bleakness of maturity in his characteristically soft focus, but with more intimacy and vulnerability here than ever before: “With my kid on my shoulders, I try not to hurt anybody I like,” he intones on “Afraid of Everyone,” “but I don’t have the drugs to sort it out.” These songs are not melodramas or descriptions of momentary afflictions. Sure, Berninger sings about love (it’s Terrible), but there’s more behind like lines like, “It takes an ocean not to break,” or “don’t leave my hyper heart alone on the water / Cover me in rag and bone sympathy, because I don’t want to get over you.” Any musings on love are placed in the context of adulthood, in the context of that feeling that life is slipping away from you.
These are meditations on the kind of life that so many people live, that invisible wall of middle age that we’ve seen people run up against and wither against. These songs describe the dull, constant guilt (“I was afraid I’d eat your brains / Because I’m evil”), and regret (“I was a comfortable kid, but I don’t think about it much anymore”) that flow so reliably underneath everything else we do on a day to day basis. “We try to hold it together until our friends are gone / We should swim in a fountain / I do not want to disappoint anyone,” Berninger confides. Lyrically, he continues to explore and uncover the pain of the everyday like he began to on Boxer.
High Violet is a continuation, or an expansion, of the work the band did on 2007’s fantastic Boxer in other ways too – not just lyrically. Musically, the band has not changed the tools it employs, but they have – individually and collectively – become far more skilled at employing them. Peter Katis deserves much of the credit for his foundational contributions to the band’s sound (they would not be The National we know or love today if he hadn’t produced Alligator and Boxer; just listen to their earlier work). But at this point, The National are walking on their own two feet. They work together much better as a unit. The guitars and drums no longer battle for primacy, but rather supplement and elevate one another. The excellent “Conversation 16” lets the drums take center stage while the guitars sizzle in the background, swelling ever so slightly in the choruses. It’s worth mentioning, for the record and while I’m on the subject, that Bryan Devendorf drums like a man possessed on this album.
But High Violet is decidedly more “produced” than Boxer; it’s got a much bigger, more cathartic feel to it. It’s the decadent, unbridled release of a career’s worth of brooding tension. The gorgeous, charged, symphonic opener “Terrible Love” features fizzy electric guitars and soaring backing vocals, and Berninger really throws his back into the vocal performance. “Lemonworld” is a glassy raw gem of song, sparkling with the unpolished brilliance of a demo. Even the more subdued “Runaway” (an early live favorite) is fleshed out by rich horns and strings. The extra instruments are used here to generate pathos and tone rather than volume, like they were on Boxer (think the ending of “Fake Empire”). Despite the fact that the sound is bigger, it’s somehow also more subtle, more carefully constructed. This record lacks the restraint of Boxer; it’s less tentative.
This is The National’s fifth studio album. Based on their iTunes Music Store ranking, it’s also their proper entrance into the mainstream. And it’s easy to see why. This album is somehow more immediate. The familiar abstractions – especially the lyrical and melodic ones – are still there, but they’ve been made more accessible to people who really couldn’t get behind Berninger and company’s previous idiosyncrasies. These are not all songs of famous city middles where they hang the lights, or Jack and coke getting spilled in one’s collar, or even slow dumb shows for you that crack you up. There are moments of blunt vulnerability: “Sorrow found me when I was young / Sorrow waited, sorrow won,” Berninger confesses on “Sorrow”. There is something imminently relatable about this album, something that wasn’t even present on the band’s previous work. On this album, they’ve fully exposed themselves, lowering the shield of obscure imagery and indie fog that sort of clouded most of their other records. This is one you’ll find on the shelves of Best Buy (I did – it was being showcased, no less) and Amoeba Records.
How does it fit into their career? It’s undoubtedly their best work. It’s a masterpiece. It’s a beautiful, stunning achievement. If we’re lucky, this will be a game-changing album. Even if it doesn’t change the game, it will certainly change anyone who listens to it. We are lucky to have High Violet.
10.0 / 10.0 (still)
Apparently the Way to Normal is paved by some strange stones. In an effort to avoid the leak of his third solo album, Folds recorded six alternate versions of songs and had his friends leak them. Many fans were upset and felt “cheated”. But in an interview with Rolling Stone, Folds said that “[in] the end, people got free songs, and we had something to do…”
