What happened to the mainstream? When exactly did it end? This is what future anthropologists and social historians will be asking their students when it comes to lecturing on the digital age.
The early part of the 21st century has already witnessed some immense cultural shifts due, often entirely and directly, to the internet. Remember way back – before the pandemic – when music was categorised by genre labels rather than moods? An ancient marketing tool, the genre. Music needed marketing because it was a commodity, a saleable product. Likening an artist or album to another recognised, even more popular artist or album was helpful for music consumers too – “audiences” as they were known – because one could make certain assumptions about how music sounded based on these genre labels. In the very early years of the 21st century – even before streaming, when industry charts were just beginning to recognise the economic value of music downloads – a style of music emerged that didn’t strictly suit any of the existing genre labels. Perhaps in a panic to capitalise on its meteoric popularity and steadfast embrace by the young adult market, and given its lineage from outside the curated mainstream, music media and industry types began labelling this sound as “indie”. It wasn’t indie though. Indie music already existed and it rarely sounded all the same. If you’re reading this wondering when the gig review is going to start; it’s soon. The National was indie before indie was a genre. And now they’re playing arenas.
That Cincinnati, Ohio five-piece has been writing, recording, releasing and performing music together since last century. Sorry if that makes you feel old. Naturally the band’s sound has evolved over the years but at no point has it ever seemed hugely popular, despite radio airplay, festival headliner status and Grammy Awards. The National aren’t really a band that has been swayed by mainstream, commercial success and with that they’ve assumed this reverent cult status. The weird thing is though, they are hugely popular! And more than that, their music is immense. It seems so obvious that they would play massive venues like the Hydro in Glasgow and yet they walk onstage with the unassuming air of a function band at a wedding, as if this isn’t their big day. The crowd response indicates otherwise.
Opening with three songs to set the scene – taken from the first of their two 2023 albums, First Two Pages of Frankenstein – the band provides something of an introduction for the uninitiated. Once Upon A Poolside is Matt Berninger’s plinky little pep talk to get himself onstage; an ode to performance anxiety which he delivers into a microphone, in front of an audience. Eucalyptus sees the singer taking stock of the insignificant fundamentals at the end of a relationship, the trivial but complicated and messy details of life and possessions long-shared. Emotions too. Tropic Morning News contextualises the inner experience of depression when the world at large is going to shit. Welcome to The National’s arena rock show.
Anyone fearing this might be a bit too downbeat for a dreich Sunday night in autumn should be pleased to know “it picked up pretty quickly after the first few songs”, as one fan was overheard to comment in the queue for the cloakroom later.
Demons from 2013’s fan-favourite Trouble Will Find Me sounds absolutely epic as it ricochets off the Hydro’s every industrial surface, Berninger’s resonant baritone booming. There’s some chat between the band members about time signatures before the space turns red and they launch into a fist-pump-inducing rendition of Bloodbuzz Ohio. Serious question: has there ever been a version of this song that didn’t induce fist-pumping? Probably not. There’s a lot of fists on this occasion though. The tension expands and we hear the first raw cracks in Berninger’s honeyed vocal on The System Only Dreams in Total Darkness, a total banger about hope, faith and hypocrisy in our recent (current) political dark-age. The distortion of its guitar riff shimmers and lingers just below the surface of the skin but nothing can shake out the goosebumps that emerge when Aaron Dessner picks out the delicate motif of I Need My Girl. A ripple of recognition passes around the arena and sounds almost like a giddy little sigh. Audible swooning. Then there’s a collective gasp when the band announces The Geese of Beverly Road because this one doesn’t get out much. It’s a sweetly nostalgic number, perhaps the only song in The National’s catalogue that could have been considered saccharine as Berninger croons “We’re the heirs to the glimmering world”. It’s aged beautifully, as has the band who sound as if each member – including longtime touring members Kyle Resnick and Ben Lanz – are each playing 100% of the song on their respective instruments. It swells and sways like an orchestra. And they follow it up with Apartment Story, another old fave from 2007’s Boxer which, for all their sonic experimentation and evolution over the last decade, still sounds quintessentially The National largely due to Bryan Devendorf’s drumming and an idiosyncratic rhythm that was their signature for a time.
Berninger notes “This is so much fun for us” throughout the performance and he really seems to be enjoying himself, cracking jokes and throwing his cup high over the stage before catching it stylishly. Yes, some drink gets spilled but that’s just part of the game. Between the songs and the frontman’s antics the audience is enrapt, mostly. There’s another run of new songs including the effervescent title track of last week’s surprise new album Laugh Track which elicits a curious and unexpected singalong. It’s catchy, for sure, though there is a sense now that a richer melody could be found through a different artist’s treatment.
Mistaken For Strangers is dedicated to Scott Hutchison, his friends and family, who was dear to the band, as he was to us all. It’s nice to be reminded that he’s still missed, even though it hurts. The National has always been so good at making sonic euphoria out of feeling bad, which is something they held in common with Frightened Rabbit. They continue in this vein with Smoke Detector, a truly troubling song that recounts abstract and dissociated memories from depressed mind. Things seem all okay for now though as Aaron Dessner reaches out of the gloom and destruction for yet another plectrum he glances across at his bandmates with a wry smile.
“I destroyed my hand on that last one so let’s see what happens” he announces as he settles at the piano for Light Years. The necessary emotion is wrought from the keys. They start to wind up the main set by breaking out the hits. Graceless (Hi, can we get more anthems about anti-depressants please?) sees Berninger diving deep into the audience, his microphone lead extending almost all the way to the lower tier as he forms a tiny riot in his wake. It’s not the last time he’ll wade in tonight but he hasn’t visited beyond the barrier quite as much as on previous tours – likely a sign of the times at this changing of the season. Fake Empire and the ever-so-delicately layered About Today are suitable closers to any night with The National but especially one as grandiose as this. The latter commands pin-drop silence, turning from tenderness into a frantic eruption and the sheer reverence of the audience throughout is astounding.
A lucid five-song encore pushes right to curfew, with Berninger venturing out into the crowd yet again. He slides, serpentine, back onto the stage to incite more chaos throughout Terrible Love before ultimately conducting the crowd through the traditional unplugged, acoustic rendition of Vanderlyle Crybaby Geeks which 10% of ticketholders have to miss due to Sunday transport. It begins tentatively but by the second refrain most people are mouthing the words and at the end everyone is on cue; “I’ll explain everything to the geeks”.
Nothing about this show was extraordinary or exceptional to what The National has always delivered live (shout out to Michael Brown always for the exquisite stage and lighting design). The scale of the production looks and feels relative to the music, which is as cathartic, and the lyrics as grim, as ever. Okay, the band gets added to a lot of Taylor Swift playlists on streaming platforms now but The National remains indie AF. Yet, more and more people are watching and listening and singing along – even dancing! In arenas. So if you’re wondering what happened to the mainstream, and when it ended…this night was definitely one for the books.
Words and pictures: Kendall Wilson @softcrowdclassic