“Boxer”
The National
BEGGARS GROUP
You may or may not be familiar with the National’s “Alligator.” It was seriously overlooked when it came out two years ago, but thanks to a high-profile tour with Clap Your Hands Say Yeah and the record’s own considerable merits, it picked up steam when it came time to make lists that December. It’s one of the best albums of the last three years, if not the best. No rock band ““ not TV on the Radio, not Hold Steady, not Sleater-Kinney ““ has come close to challenging it. Until now.
“Boxer” is not “Alligator Pt. 2,” though it does feel like a continuation and expansion of the Springsteen-meets-post-punk style the band has slipped on so comfortably after several earlier, acoustic-based releases. The band’s enveloping, immersive qualities and sharp lyricism haven’t changed.
But “Boxer” is less climactic and noisy than its predecessor; there’s no “Mr. November”-like screaming or guitar freak-outs. Instead, the songs give up fireworks in favor of leaving the listener wanting more.
Some may find this unsatisfying, but the band’s well-textured arrangements leave more than enough to dive into.
And more importantly, as with “Alligator,” the music matches the songs’ lyrical focus perfectly.
Singer Matthew Berninger, done writing lyrics about insecurity and false bravado (“I’m put together beautifully / Big wet bottle in my fist, big wet rose in my teeth / I’m a perfect piece of ass,” he sang on “All the Wine”), has traded his one-liners in for larger narrative arcs that deal with reality instead of hoping desperately that it will disappear.
“Walk away now, and you’re going to start a war,” he sings calmly on “Start a War,” but the promised battle (and a musical equivalent) never comes. We’re left wondering if his threat was heeded or if it was merely a front; either way, the song’s quiet, melodic nature leads to contemplation rather than a fiery resolution.
And indeed Berninger has become more reflective this time around, perhaps a sign of growing older and wiser.
“Slow Show” depicts a character getting drunk and acknowledging his nervousness and desire for love rather than making a blustering last stanza as on “All The Wine”: “I want to hurry home to you / Put on a slow, dumb show for you / Make you laugh.” And yet here he stands, drinking and probably too soused to even call a cab.
This is Berninger’s narration of post-collegiate urban life: bittersweet and nuanced.
“Mistaken For Strangers,” which borrows a melody from Interpol’s “Evil,” depicts an addressee “mistaken for strangers by your own friends” despite being “showered and blue-blazered.”
“ADA” offers a haunting, Fitzgerald-like image (“Stand inside an empty tuxedo with grapes in my mouth”), contrasting hollowness with exuberant Sufjan Stevens-played piano and an almost triumphant chant of “Ada … Ada … Ada.”
The band, too, has continued to mature.
The drumming is distinctive and ferocious, taking the place of the sharp guitar lines of “Alligator,” and the use of piano and wider arrangements (strings, horns) make the band’s moody rock sound even more subtle and slow-burning.
And despite the relative restraint of the album, it’s far from neat and clean; the songs are wrapped in serrated edges and abrasive guitar tones. If not quite as staggering as the unimpeachable “Alligator,” “Boxer” gives the National a hell of a one-two punch.
““ David Greenwald
E-mail Greenwald at dgreenwald@media.ucla.edu.