1,294 THE NATIONAL, Soccer Mommy, London Alexandra Palace, Wednesday 27th September 2023

 

After a couple of little gigs, it’s time for a big ‘un; and right now they don’t come much bigger (Stadia and Festivals notwithstanding), than US alt-rock leaders The National! The band of choice for serious black jeans-clad “sad dad” musos (hands up, guilty as charged) and now firmly established as the R.E.M. of this particular musical generation (I said it would happen, and it’s happened…), Ohio’s The National announced a date at London’s cavernous greenhouse Alexandra Palace, so naturally I logged on for tix at the very second they went on sale. Despite my continuous “refresh” efforts, however, I was stymied and locked out until the “sold out” signs went up about 10 minutes afterwards… Luckily, I checked back about half an hour later, to find they’d added a second date for the night after! Yay! So, I quickly bagsied tix for that one before they, too, disappeared… Good thing too, as The National then went and delivered what may well be their career-defining album in this year’s “The First Two Pages Of Frankenstein”, a quite magnificent body of work, mainly slow-burn, stripped back and understatedly melancholy, but with a significantly elevated quality of songwriting which took a quantum stride forward from their last couple of “National by Numbers” albums. Likely their best, easily the best album I’ve heard this year, this could be their “Out Of Time”, the one which elevates them from growing cult status to the national (sic) and international consciousness…

 (Ironic really, given that in mood and timbre, its more akin to R.E.M.’s follow up to “OOT”, “Automatic For The People”, but still…)

 So, hopes were very high for a performance to match, as Stu picked me up at 4, hitting traffic just off the North Circular which delayed our arrival until ¼ to 7. Parked up easily, nonetheless, and grabbed a quick bite in the main atrium before wandering into the huge and ornate venue just after 7. Nashville’s Soccer Mommy took the stage just after 10 past, immediately easing into pure, textural opener “Crawling In My Skin”. Thence followed a real early 90’s college pop throwback set, with some fine musicianship from singer/ songwriter Sophie Allison’s backing band (particularly the robust, strong-armed drummer) happily giving an extra dynamism to Sophie’s oft-muted (and in the case of her second album material, sadly a bit borderline dull) material. “Circle The Drain” was plaintive and lovely, almost a companion piece to The Blake Babies’ classic “Out There”, the eerie pseudo goth template of “Darkness Forever” was juxtaposed with a languidly summery “Bullet In A Shotgun”, and after a slightly morose solo cover of Slowdive’s “Dagger”, Sophie bigged up the headliners (“The National put on quite a show”) and left us with set closer “Don’t Ask Me”, which was the brightest, bounciest and Belly-est number on display in a quietly impressive opening set.

 

We kept our good viewing spots, house left about 10 rows back, as the place got understandably busier, the lights smashing to black dead on 8.20 to the big screen backdrop of the band about to take the stage! So they did, easing in with an elongated “Runaway”, singer Matt Berninger’s nuanced, inflected baritone already the standout feature. However “Eucalyptus”, next up, was utterly magnificent, eliciting a surprise singalong to the “you can take it” hook, and building to a dramatic and sweeping crescendo (not the last of the evening, of course) augmented by the brass section overlay and Matt’s impassioned vocal. Woah… they’ve not peaked too soon, surely?

 Thankfully quality control was maintained, despite (although I blanked on this at the time) guitarist Aaron Dessner then advising us that the band wouldn’t be repeating any songs they played last night! We therefore had a slightly off the beaten track National song selection, but as ever delivered with this band’s signature mellifluously understated yet wonderfully sombre style, and happily (which hasn’t always been the case in large venues for me this year) matched by a clear-as-a-bell sound and impressive augmented light and screen backdrop (said screen usually showing artily fragmented shots of the onstage action). A delicious “This Isn’t Helping” ceded to “I Should Live In Salt” (“one of our strange time signature songs,” advised Aaron before brother Bryce took centre stage with some serious guitar shredding through its building denouement); “I Need My Girl” was heartcrackingly sombre, Matt’s yearning mahogany vocal augmented by stark backlit blue banks of light; newie “Deep End” (from an unexpected forthcoming album “Laugh Track” – their second this year!) was an old school “Alligator”-era rocker with a slightly countrified (think R.E.M’s “Reckoning”) lilt; and “Sorrow” (preceded by Aaron joking, “we thought about playing you [this song] for 2 ½ hours – there’s a precedent for that!) was beautifully despondent, heartbreak never sounding so good.

 Thereafter, it all got a little intermittently (and surprisingly) punk rock! Oldie “Murder Me Rachael” was a startlingly upbeat and growling U2-esque 80’s stadium rocker with a thunderous climax; the equally veteran “Available” was a soaring blast, Matt (not for the first time) delivering his screaming vocals from the photo pit into the faces of the front rows; and after the circular layered vocal build of “Secret Meeting” calmed matters slightly, “Turtleneck” was a dynamically juddering swampy Stones-like blues rocker. Yikes!

 For me, the gig took a bit of a lull thereafter (not helped by me zoning out slightly because some entitled 6 foot+ tall 5 to 3’er in a striped shirt planted himself directly in my line of vision – twat!), but a superb “Conversation 16”, with its’ juxtaposition of elegiac verse and huge strident “I’m EVIL!!” hook, brought me right back, before the propulsive thrill-ride of “Graceless”, the set closer and highlight of the night for me, saw Matt not only abandon the stage for the middle of the melee, but also then take a right turn and return to the stage via our side, phones held aloft to mark his progress. As he passed me by, I hastily snapped a photo, then during the early encore, tracked down the punter next to him in said pic (hi Max!).

 

“This has been the fucking best time!” pronounced a buoyed Matt, who once again had given his all, balancing his marvellous baritone with by-now easy frontperson showmanship. The slow-fast dynamics and textured hook of “Terrible Love” was the highlight of the encore, final number “About Today” seeing Stu and I head back to the car for 10.45 after nearly 2 ½ hours of stellar entertainment, a quick run seeing us back in the ‘don for 12.30. A superb night out as ever with The National, then, once again cementing their status as the heads of the US alt-rock table. Surely stadium-level status won’t be too long to follow…

1,168 THE NATIONAL, Jenny Lewis, Cardiff Motorpoint Arena, Monday 9th December 2019

The hectic week continues with the second in 2 nights and a lengthy trip over the (thankfully now toll-free!) border into Wales, to catch The National, for me now the de facto figureheads of the US alt-rock movement. Hot on the heels of 2017’s “Sleep Well Beast”, these Cincinnati, OH natives trotted out a new album this year, “I Am Easy To Find”, which continues their increasing descent into wallowing and morose melancholy for earnest musos in black jeans and with more than a fleck of grey around the temples. My people, then! I’m still well on board with The National, despite finding this new album on initial listens a little one dimensional and lacking in that one upbeat banger that punctuated previous releases and provided respite from all the bleak moodiness (think “Mr. November”, “Bloodbuzz Ohio”, “Graceless” or even last time out’s “Day I Die”), which in itself gives rise for concern that they may be disappearing into their shells, similar to how their predecessors REM did with the “Reveal” and “Around The Sun” albums. Still, “live” they’re still hopefully a pretty safe bet, even if we have to experience their sullen introspectiveness in aircraft hanger-type venues these days, an odd juxtaposition in itself?

At least Cardiff Motorpoint is easy to park at and has spot-on sound as aircraft hangers go, so I really didn’t need much persuasion for this one. Neither did Stuart, although amazingly this was his first National gig for 10 years! Picked him up straight from work, stopping for noodle tea in the services and parking up at 7. Well in place, house right, for opener, the sparkly dressed, big-haired Jenny Lewis at 7.30. A suspiciously 70’s sounding almost power ballad opener answered the burning question as to what a cross between The Cowboy Junkies and the Carpenters would sound like, and Lewis – possessor of a fair set of pipes, I’ll give her that – mined this AOR/ Country seam for all she was worth, also recalling the likes of Fleetwood Mac, the Cali-country-isms of Sheryl Crow and even the yodelly vocal inflections of Dolly Parton! Waaay more trad- than alt-, then, all very musical and accomplished, but for me anodyne and definitely not a boat-floater. Her best number, one from her old band, Miley Kylo Ren or something (!) nicked the “My Sweet Lord” riff and was punctuated by huge balloons being released over the crowd, and the final number saw a tambourine playing snowman appear and eventually cart her off the stage!

3 wide screens bordering the stage then showed suitably moody black and white film loops of the new CD cover girl (who looks suspiciously like Greta Thunberg – coincidence? Or not?) and the backstage area, so when the lights dimmed at 8.45, the band were projected coming onto the stage (preceded by a very REM-like “Please Stand By” message on the screens). Opening with a couple of newies, it was apparent from the off that they were “on it”, a 10-piece augmented “live” National line-up really well road tested and sounding amazing, the off-kilter guitar interplay of the Dessner twins a particularly stunning feature, slashing through and really augmenting the mood and hypnotic atmosphere of the material, once again set by the rich clipped baritone of vocalist Matt Berninger. The lighting show and dreamlike screen imagery was augmentative rather than distracting, adding to the rich yet eerie atmosphere. And Berninger himself was mesmerising; he’s now shed that rather confused Geography teacher persona of the past, and really come into his own as an arena-level frontman, commanding all corners of the stage (and beyond! A couple of forays into the crowd during a mid-set “System Dreams In Total Darkness” and a later, savage “Graceless”) angular of pose, attention-grabbing and inclusive, if still slightly eccentric (case in point being a potty ongoing dialogue with some front row regulars about a Radiohead tee-shirt, Berninger repeatedly saying, “I gave you 50 euros 3 months ago!”). Funny and pointed too, remarking, “I figured everything out this morning – everything’s going to be fine,” and later contradicting himself (!), then asking the audience if anyone knew Christian Bale… to be told by a Dessner (Aaron, I think.. not sure!) that in Wales, he’s probably talking about the wrong Bale…!

(Considerate too… on seeing a repeated phone flashlight in the middle of the crowd, Berninger stopped one number to ask if this was because someone had problems… it was, and he asked everyone to, “clear a path,” so the distressed audience member could get help. Well done, sir.)

As for the music, this was a brilliantly paced set, full of light and shade, the “live” renditions of the new material in particular really adding that extra dimension and making much more of an impression as a consequence. So the crescendo drama of an early blood-red lit “Bloodbuzz, Ohio” was followed by a poignant “Hey Rosey” to great effect, the hushed and haunting “Green Gloves” followed by an utterly tremendous “Slow Show”, and even “Where Is Her Head”, led by the female backing vocalists and a track I flat out didn’t like on first listen, was mesmerising and hypnotic.

An acoustic “Wasps Nest” (apparently the Dessner’s mum’s favourite track!) opened the encore, before Berninger’s impassioned yell of, “vote motherfucking Labour!!!” preceded gig highlight, the brilliant, soaring “Mr. November”. This bumped the set past the 2 hour mark, so Stu and I watched the denouement, a Berninger-conducted singalong through “Vanderlyle Crybaby Geeks”, from the back, heading off at its conclusion at 11 for a swift exit from the car park and an equally swift drive home, back for 12.30. Comfortably the best I’ve seen The National, with all doubts and previous concerns about the one-dimension-ness of their material completely blown away. A brilliant gig. All hail The National, the kings of US alt-rock!

1,055 THE NATIONAL, This Is The Kit, London Eventim Apollo, Tuesday 26th September 2017

The “landmark” first gig that I set off to directly from my new job, was this midweek trip up “The Smoke”, to catch the band who arguably now occupy REM’s former position at the vanguard of US indie/ alternative rock, Ohio’s The National. Their last go-around, 4 years ago, saw them cement their status as the “go-to” band for all earnest black-shirted muso types, by selling out 2 nights at the cavernous Ally Pally (my gig 897), so it was inevitable that tickets for their announced 4 dates at the more intimate (but still bloody huge) former Hammersmith Odeon, in support of their current “Sleep Well Beast” album (which sees them augment their usual deliciously dark, morose late night alt-rock with subtle smatterings of electronica beats, without going full-on “Empires And Dance” on our collective asses), would be as rare as rocking horse shit. Luckily, I got in on the advance-CD purchase pre-sale, hitting “refresh” until one of my 4 open windows furnished me with a ticket. Tuesday (day 2) I got, so Tuesday it is!

Facebook friend David Line, formerly vocalist of Seafood (the only UK band worth half a damn, during the late 90’s/ early 00’s, and still, at 22, my most-seen “live” band – and a brilliantly visceral experience every time, I might add…!) also got Tuesday, so I was on the lookout for him! Headed off at 4 and hit the venue just before doors at 7, after a trouble-free journey and took a place on the wonky barriers, extreme left, watching the National’s congregation respectfully file in. My early arrival unfortunately also meant that I was subject to another support slot from The National’s “pet” support act, This Is The Kit. As before, they were female fronted, polite, accomplished and understated US alt-country – music for walking a rainy Appalachian trail, perhaps – with an occasional pretty intertwining harmony or discordant riff to divert me from their usual material, which was unfortunately quite, quite dull. The biggest cheer was when they brought the National’s Aaron Dessner to sit in on guitar for a couple of their later numbers. Hmmm…

The place actually felt like a sell-out by now and I left my front-row but oddly obscured vantage spot for a loo break, spotting a familiar looking face on the way back, about 1/3 back. True enough, t’was Mr. Line, and greetings, introductions to his lovely family, and catching up comfortably passed the time until the lights dimmed at 9, a “Please Stand By” message appeared on a large overhanging video screen, and video of The National themselves, hanging backstage, was projected, until they emerged to a reverential welcome. Opening with 4 straight new numbers – there’s confidence in your audience and material for you! – they sounded pindrop-perfect, their bleak, introspective and hauntingly gothic new material given incongruous life by some startling blocks of ultraviolet colour on the screen , interspersing the usual band performance shots. “Walk It Back”, stark and bucolic, recalled “Automatic”-era REM and was an early highlight, before a blood-red backdrop heralded the oozing, slow-burn intro of “Bloodbuzz Ohio”, a somewhat understated version, leading ultimately to its’ usual dramatic climax.

“Understated” is probably the operative word for this whole performance, actually… brilliant sound, an expertly chosen set veering between slow, stripped back material and their rockier moments (a perfect example being a brilliant mid-set double of an angular, propulsive “Mistaken For Strangers” and a racy, jet propelled “Graceless”, being followed by the tender “Carin At The Liquor Store”, as if to clear the air), Matt Berninger’s usual befuddled Geography teacher stage presence and vocals veering between half-remembered mumble and startled shriek, and the Dessner twins’ occasional dual guitar shredding, throwing sharp relief onto the reverentially observed quieter moments. All that and more… it again felt, however, that The National were playing within themselves, pacing themselves over the 2 hours, or even 4 nights. Nothing wrong with that, I guess; a few moments of driftwood in the set for me, sure, but when it worked (the afore-mentioned “Mistaken”/ “Graceless” double, a startling, proto-punk “Turtleneck” or the brass blare fanfare of a singalong and totally appropriate “England”) it really was quite breathtaking.

“Day I Die” was ragged and riff-strafingly dramatic, and the taciturn Berninger announced set closer “About Today” as, “the most depressing song ever written… enjoy!” “Terrible Love”, the final of a 3-song encore, finally saw Berninger really cut loose, crowdsurfing, Frank Turner style, as the song took dramatic flight behind him, bringing another slightly uneven but occasionally majestic 2 hours to a close. A fortuitous set-list and farewells to my gig companions – good to catch up with David again! – before a similarly unimpeded journey home. Worthy as ever, The National, and at times stunning; overall, a splendid evening!

897 THE NATIONAL, This Is the Kit, London Alexandra Palace, Thursday 14 November 2013

The final gig of 4 in 8 days is the biggest one; The National, the band who've become de facto leaders and elder statesmen of the US alternative rock scene following REM's retirement, playing a huge double-header at Ally Pally! After pausing awhile to see if they'd announce nearer/ smaller dates (they didn't) I finally acquiesced and booked a ticket for this one, the 2nd of their 2 dates, for my first London gig in almost exactly a year! It's a long ways to go these days...

I rearranged my work day as well, setting off at 4 then hitting bad traffic in Ealing, and complete fucking idiots around Crouch End, nevertheless parking up in the leafy and well-attended venue car park at the bottom of the hill at my expected 7pm arrival time. I'd really forgotten how huge this place was until I entered the ornate and opulent entrance hall; the large walk-through to the main hall, bar-lined and smelling of burgers, is bigger than most venues I normally go to - hell, the toilets are bigger than most venues I normally go to! The merch stand was as big as a festival one, with spicy prices to match (£25 per t-shirt? Ouch!), and a drummer played in the middle of the walk-through hall. Popped into the vast auditorium to catch support This Is The kit. They featured a female vocalist with similar vocal inflections to Madder Rose's Mary Lorson, but nowhere near as good material, pitching up somewhere between windswept alt-folk and low key late night bar-room music. When good - which wasn't often - they recalled a poor man's Cowboy Junkies.

Had a Mike Mills moment as National guitarist Aaron Dessner wandered to the stage-side from backstage, so I popped over and got my ticket signed. Aaron remarked the previous night’s show was, “nice, sounded good,” despite the cavernous venue. This was later borne out during the show; I kept my place stage-left as the blue static projected onto the backdrop coalesced into the band name, the lights dimmed and a Kurt Vile track heralded the band’s entrance at 8.45, easing into the sonorous monotone rhythm of “Don’t Swallow The Cap”, the sound already great, pindrop perfect.

Great though it sounded, it was a little incongruous to see a band as sombre and introspective as The National in such a vast arena, cheered on by a 7,500 strong audience. Vocalist Matt Berninger seemed a little awed initially, wandering listlessly around the stage looking slightly befuddled and increasingly paranoid, like Walter White from “Breaking Bad”, whilst delivering his often incomprehensible and slightly daft lyrics in his low, melancholy baritone. It took a superb “Bloodbuzz Ohio” to kick things off for me, the Joy Division “Disorder”-esque pounding drumbeat leading to a noisefest crescendo. Thereafter the band settled, always fine, dark and moody and occasionally grasping at the hem of greatness. “Sea Of Love” saw Matt cut loose for the first time with some primal screaming; a moving “I Need My Girl” was introduced by the taciturn frontman with, “it’s my wife’s birthday; she’s somewhere in America so this is for her – someone tell her I said that, she’s pissed [at me]!” and an almost punk rock “Abel” was startlingly rocking with another screamed hook. The subsequent double of “Slow Show” and “Sorrow” for me stole the show; the former haunting and eerie, with Aaron’s piano riff complimenting the heart-breaking refrain, “I dreamed about you for 29 years before I saw you” perfectly, the latter a superbly Scott Walker-esque deep, wallowing ballad.

At times the strident riffery, no doubt intended to flesh out the songs in this cavernous space, seemed gauche and unnecessary (viz. a noisy “Humiliation”), other times it worked, with a superb, galloping “Graceless” ending with Matt in the photographer’s pit. However he capped that during thrillingly noisy encores “Mr November” and “Terrible Love”, surfing the front rows and delivering his by now hoarse, ragged vocals with vim and venom from within the mosh (yup, a National mosh!). A final “Vanderlyle Crybaby Geeks” was dedicated with, “thanks to the guys who protected my testicles [in the mosh] the last 15 minutes!”, bringing a low-key end to an uneven but oft-times stunning 2 hour set.

So overall well worthwhile, as The National always are, and thanks to setlist.fm I set off during the final number, getting some good advice from the car park attendants for a clear run out onto the North Circular, home for 12.30. Great to see The National so popular now, they’re a quality band and certainly deserve it, but I’d much rather have seen this set in a smaller venue…

801 THE NATIONAL, Phosphorescent, Bristol O2 Academy, Wednesday 24 November 2010

I booked this some time ago, as The National, increasingly becoming one of my favourite bands with their blend of atmospheric late night mood music, euphoric crashing crescendo alt rock and moody Americana, had produced another splendid CD this year in “High Violet”. Again very slow-burn and understated, it’s a real grower, but Rachel decided it didn’t grow on her enough, so passed her ticket onto Tim, who was keen to see the support.

Unfortunately, the journey down was a total nightmare; Rach got in late from work in Reading so Tim picked her up from the station, and we passed each other in the lobby on my way out! Hitting Bristol at 7.30, Tim and I waited in an interminable queue for the usual Trenchard Street car park, only to discover it was “one in, one out”, and, after a panicked drive up the hill, eventually parked over by @ Bristol, which turned out to be closer than we thought! However, this meant we got into the packed venue at 8.10, ten minutes after support Phosphorescent took the stage. A US alt-country lot (hence Tim’s enthusiasm for them, I guess!), they were okay background music, occasionally too trad Country hokum for my tastes, and I only really took note during their more discordant moments towards the end of their set.

We kept our good positions, stage right, as the floor got increasingly stuffed with both older muso types and indie girlies (a broad church, the National’s audience) and anticipation grew. The National took the stage at 9.15 against a violet backdrop, easing into their set with “Runaway” and “Anyone’s Ghost”, a slow, moody double from “High Violet”. An early “Mistaken For Strangers” then should have really ignited both the crowd and their performance, but somehow it didn’t…

The sound was perfect, a little too perfect perhaps, the band played their material reverently and understatedly, but somehow it all seemed to lack depth, an extra dimension of dynamism, particularly early doors. Having seen The National really soar “live”, and add that extra power and punch to their effortlessly cool yet deliciously sombre music, it seemed a little disappointing. Don’t get me wrong; they were still great, with the denouement to “Slow Show” affecting, and “Sorrow” hauntingly wallowing. I was just expecting more, and didn’t really get it until a brash, jagged “Abel”, which finally saw Matt Berenger howl with real venom.

“Play something depressing!” shouted a wag in the crowd (not me, for once!) as The National augmented their performance with some nervous between song banter, and Matt’s barrel rolls (!), before “Fake Empire” closed out the set. The subsequent encores, however, were magnificent and much more the ticket; “Mr November”, full-on, venomous and rocking; “Terrible Love”, surprisingly savage and punk rock, and the best number they played tonight; and a final, unplugged “Vanderlyle Crybaby Geeks”, brilliantly delivered with acoustic guitar and trumpet embellishment, and an all-inclusive mic-free singalong, to end an uneven but overall splendid performance on a high note.

Still increasingly one of my favourite bands, this was still a great gig, despite a slight disappointment that it didn’t really scale the heights of previous National gigs. They’re on their way up, and have the potential to be an REM for the new millennium. It’ll be interesting to see what happens next, but whatever, I’ll still be watching closely!

735 THE NATIONAL, The Broken Family Band, London Shepherd's Bush Empire, Thursday 8 November 2007

Well, the Kissaway Trail impressed me enough on their Editors support slot to ensure I went to their Louisiana rearranged gig! This meant a quick trip to the National's website to see if I could pass on their clashing Anson Rooms date in favour of another, and thus it came to pass that I hit the M4 on this Thursday evening, armed with a Shepherd's Bush residency day 2 ticket for this impressive new US alt-rock band.

Parked at 1/4 to 8 and hit the venue in good time for support the Broken Family Band, who sauntered on at 8 pm sharp. They veered between slow-burn US alt-country (despite being a UK band) and discordant, often thrilling white noise, often in the same song! The deadpan vocalist had a nice line in banter - "we're supporting the National and you're not; mind you, we had dinner in the Walkabout next door and you probably didn't" - "cheer when we mention the National, it makes us a more viable support" - and my favourite, "this song is dedicated to the National, as a way of saying thank you for having us, Mr. and Mrs. National". Great! Their new single was the most conventional "pop" thing they did all set, otherwise this seemingly ordinary 4-piece were intriguing, recalling the Violent Femmes in both music and subject matter!

Stayed stage right, near the front, for the National's entrance at 9.15. After beguiling me with their previous "Alligator" CD and their current "Boxer" follow-up, my sleeper CD of this year, I was expecting an understated, perhaps detached set of their almost glacially cool marriage of moody, late night bar-room torch music, and occasional Death Cab For Cutie-esque quirky US alt-indie rock. However, from the outset they attacked their set with a hitherto unexpected venom, their resonant elements proving much more dynamic onstage. Vocalist Matt Berringer, possessor of a unique deep, rich yet clipped and understated vocal style, positively flew into the set, screaming the crescendo line of "Secret Meeting". Startling, yes, but the material handled this unexpected rough treatment well and robustly, and gained extra dimensions as a consequence. "Mistaken For Strangers" and "Looking For Astronauts" were mid-set highlights; "Fake Empire", introduced as, "dedicated to the Shepherd's Bush Empire, we've dreamed of playing this here!" featured a rousing sing-along, and brilliant first encore "Mr. November" was positively punk rock, Matt roaring the chorus like a wounded lion.

"Start A War" concluded an unexpectedly overt set of dark moody late night material given a markedly different, rockier spin. A rapturously received 1 1/2 hour performance from a band I'm glad I made the extra effort to see!

Oh and by the way, I loved guitarist Aaron's story of his mum's misadventures the previous night, having flown in from Ohio to attend this 2-night residency; "she got thrown out of the balcony last night for not having the right pass, but then I found out she was smoking drugs! My dad found out and now it's this big scandal back in Ohio!"

749 THE NATIONAL, Caroline Martin, Birmingham Carling Academy, Monday 30 June 2008

Did I say, "never again?" My heart sank when The National announced only 2 post-Glastonbury dates, in Leeds and at this impossible-to-find venue in Birmingham. Which would win out - my revulsion towards the possibility of getting lost for an hour around Birmingham city centre again, or my desire to once again experience the live power of this deliciously seductive new American band?

Well, rock won out (of course), so, armed with copious maps and new RAC-supplied directions, I set off at 6.30, running into trouble on the M5, seemingly due to a recently-cleared obstruction, and getting off at Junction 3 at 10 to 8. The directions this time took me off the main drag into town at the Jewellery Quarter, then around the top, under a large underpass and lo and behold, there's the gig! So, parked up and in by 20 past 8, and downstairs for the first time in this large Carling venue, hitting the dancefloor as folkie Caroline Martin was finishing off her inoffensive but innocuous set.

Milled around and took a spot stage left for The National's appearance at 9. Since their Empire set last November, they've become a firm in-car stereo favourite of mine, and I've tracked down their extensive back catalogue for more of their introspective yet anthemic, morose yet euphoric, glacially cool yet still prone to episodes of wild unhinged abandon, US alt-rock. Recalling the power of that Empire performance, my hopes were perhaps unfairly high, yet from the outset I was not to be disappointed. The 8-piece band, expanded "live" to include a 2-man horn section and extra guitarist, were on top form from the start, dishing up slow-burn yet emotive atmospheric mood music, which built like steam, gushing forth into jagged rolling crescendos of crashing noise. The uniquely tonsilled Matt Berenger, his voice dark rich like Belgian chocolate, was the visual focal point throughout, throwing shapes and physically enacting this set, veins and sinews bulging from his neck as he roared the epic denouements to songs such as "Secret Meeting", the heart-tugging "Slow Show" and a frankly amazing rendition of "Squalor Victoria".

The National were brilliant. A shame the crowd didn't respond in kind - by no means sold out, they were just the enthusiastic side of indifferent. I was jigging around from my position of 4 or 5 rows back, and I didn't see anyone else doing that until the end! Damn shame.

The "Boxer" double salvo "Mistaken For Strangers" and "Fake Empire" capped the set, then an encore featuring a Caroline Martin duet cover was topped by easily their best song, "Mr. November", an anthemic epic rocker of early U2/ Dear Leader proportions, Matt once again giving it full effort, throwing himself into the front rows, and giving this superb set the ending it deserved.

So, a great night, only partly marred by a car park pay-mare (a 20 minute queue!), but made better by being able to find the venue this time around. You never know, I might be back here again!