While I have previously opined on this blog that 2008 was a great year for music, there was absolutely nothing that even came close to matching 2007’s ‘Boxer’, by The National (band homepage here), for its impact on me. This is simply one of the greatest albums I have ever heard, for completeness, mood, pace and basic unabashed magnificence.
When 2007 ground to a halt, I urgently scanned every best-of list published to confirm the obvious, that it was unanimously album of the year. Uncut magazine, with which I have a decade-long relationship of utter trust in terms of musical recommendations, and which I can think for introducing me to most of the artists I now hold dear (including The National) was the first to disappoint, indeed shock me. In The Cure’s song ‘How beautiful you are’, the narrator realises, based on their very different reactions to a chance encounter with a poor family in Paris, that he and his lover are actually far less alike than he had previously believed, and concluded that ‘no-one ever knows or loves another’; my reaction to Uncut was similarly hurt when they placed ‘Boxer’ somewhere in the mid-30s of their chart.
When Irish DJ Tom Dunne asked for listeners top three albums of the year, I asked if I could give three votes to ‘Boxer’, and said that if my entire iPod was fed into some gigantic musical blender, mixed up, and distilled down to its pure essence as one song which encompassed all I loved in music, that may well be ‘Guest Room’ (which can be heard over an unofficial fan video here); Tom read out my letter and played my song, and of course I missed it! Overall, though, the critics loved it, as can be assessed by the Metacritic analysis here.
When 2007 ground to a halt, I urgently scanned every best-of list published to confirm the obvious, that it was unanimously album of the year. Uncut magazine, with which I have a decade-long relationship of utter trust in terms of musical recommendations, and which I can think for introducing me to most of the artists I now hold dear (including The National) was the first to disappoint, indeed shock me. In The Cure’s song ‘How beautiful you are’, the narrator realises, based on their very different reactions to a chance encounter with a poor family in Paris, that he and his lover are actually far less alike than he had previously believed, and concluded that ‘no-one ever knows or loves another’; my reaction to Uncut was similarly hurt when they placed ‘Boxer’ somewhere in the mid-30s of their chart.
When Irish DJ Tom Dunne asked for listeners top three albums of the year, I asked if I could give three votes to ‘Boxer’, and said that if my entire iPod was fed into some gigantic musical blender, mixed up, and distilled down to its pure essence as one song which encompassed all I loved in music, that may well be ‘Guest Room’ (which can be heard over an unofficial fan video here); Tom read out my letter and played my song, and of course I missed it! Overall, though, the critics loved it, as can be assessed by the Metacritic analysis here.
Twelve songs, building up gradually in 'Fake Empire' (which they can be seen performing live on Letterman here) to the crescendo of 'Mistaken for Strangers' (watch the video here and live version here, from a session which yielded several good videos linked below) and maintaining the pace, before slowing it down and easing us home on the last three quieter ones. Fanfeckingtastic.
As I have raved previously, the greatest weapon in the National’s armoury is their drummer, Bryan Devendorf (fast developing a John Lennon-gone-to-seed cool), who lends their songs a unique rhythm and flavour; 'Guest Room' and 'Apartment Story' (watch some really cool acousticish performances here and here) wander all over your head led by the mysterious rumbles and crashes in tempos and changes in directions I can't begin to describe. Strangely, though, their songs where he is right to the fore from the beginning, like ‘Squalor Victoria’, are less spectacular than the ones where he kind of sneaks up with you, like ‘Fake Empire’.
As I have raved previously, the greatest weapon in the National’s armoury is their drummer, Bryan Devendorf (fast developing a John Lennon-gone-to-seed cool), who lends their songs a unique rhythm and flavour; 'Guest Room' and 'Apartment Story' (watch some really cool acousticish performances here and here) wander all over your head led by the mysterious rumbles and crashes in tempos and changes in directions I can't begin to describe. Strangely, though, their songs where he is right to the fore from the beginning, like ‘Squalor Victoria’, are less spectacular than the ones where he kind of sneaks up with you, like ‘Fake Empire’.
The lyrics are not very decipherable or inspiring, it must be said, but I genuinely don’t care for once; enigmatic snatches like a poorly tuned radio catching snippets of someone else’s arguments is fine for me (perfect example: 'You were always wierd but I never had to hold you by the edges like I do now'). It is all about the moments, like just after the 2-minute mark in Apartment Story when the whole pace slows suddenly into a new pace to gather steam for the anthematic ending, or (again just after 2 minutes mark) in 'Guest Room' when another change in tone just takes my breath away, just before they kick into New Order mode for the final romp home. Of course, the grandest moment of all is the stretch between 1:15 and 1:45 in 'Apartment Story' where the drums build up, probably my second favourite 30 seconds of music in the world, after the first 30 seconds of the Cure's 'Inbetween Days', of course.
I have delved into the workings of this album, getting some insights through the frankly-pretty -arty-and-a-bit-wierd-for-me DVD that accompanied the Virginia EP (a little more narrative and structure would have helped this one for me, and yes I know I am a philistine), but even more through deciphering the convoluted history of some of the songs through snippets and clues scattered tentalisingly around. For example, I now have three versions, all quite different and interesting, or 'Slow Show', from the album, the Virginia EP and a Daytrotter session I found on-line (check it here). The album version is certainly the most polished (although it always make me think of U2's 'New Year's Day' played backwards) but the others have different mixes, lyrics and places of emphasis, andeffectively stand alone as great songs (there are also different live acoustic versions here and here). What other treasures and experiments lie out there (like a pretty cool video for 'Start a war' being plated in a darkened room around a table here)?
Of course, the album passed the multi-format test. While the record for this is held by Prefab Sprout's 'Steve McQueen', which meant so much to me in my late teens that I at different stages owned it on LP, tape and CD, and bought on special edition CD (with extra acoustic versions) a few years ago, I downloaded 'Boxer' from iTunes impatiently on day of release, but eventually accepted that an album that perfect needed a physical reality more solid than an electronic-only virtual life, so I bought the CD.
It strkes me that the video for 'Apartment Story' above, where the band gradually win over an initially unhearing wedding crowd until everyone is on the dancefloor (it really is a beautiful piece of cinematic video, full of naturalistic character and observation, and moments like the girl in the red shoes and the first feet tapping in perfect rhythm as the song gathers pace) is a nice metaphor for the band themselves, releasing albums noted only be a few discerning ears, championed by magazines like Uncut, until more and more people turned to listen with 'Boxer', and finally joined the crowd.
They have played Ireland several times in the last 18 months or so, but I finally got to see them in the Olympia theatre last May, so high up in ‘the gods’ that I was really only looking at the top of their heads, which wasn’t quite the intimate experience I needed from my first concert of theirs, but it was still bloody great.
A poor phone video clip of part of 'Fake Empire' I took during that concert is here (with apologies for the change in angle in the first few seconds):
I guess it is some kind of irony, really, that I saw them first from hundreds of feet above, when in reality this album, to me, is so far above everything else it just looks down and laughs.....
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