Stay inside til somebody finds us
So this was supposed to be a live post from the sold-out National show in Minneapolis, but as you can tell from the above timestamp, it's not. Robot David had some, uh, technical difficulties. Instead, I offer you this blurry cellphone photo of Matt Berninger.
I don't usually have anything good to say about 400 Bar, but it turned out to be a kind of nice venue for this band. Here's what I hate about this venue: terrible visibility, creepy lighting, zero ambience. But somehow the room enveloped the band perfectly last night, and the band's amazing performance made you feel lucky you happened to be in your best friend's basement at the right time. (Seriously, I think there's even fake wood paneling on the walls, though that may just be my extrapolation.)
They started the night with "Mistaken For Strangers," and the highlights were many: "Apartment Story," "Mr. November," "Abel." Berninger screamed when he needed to scream, crooned when he needed to croon, and randomly fell down when he got lost his balance. He also started the show by apologizing to the shoeless woman whose feet he accidentally stepped on (don't forget to wear shoes at rock shows, kids!), and apologized to the guy he attacked at their last Minneapolis show. That guy, he said, was not the guy who yelled "free bird!" forty times during the show, and he regretted the error.
I realized during "Mr. November" why I like The National so much: they're like U2, but they actually earn their grandeur, you know? I've contrasted U2 and Arcade Fire before by claiming (in a grammatically poor way, yikes) that "while Arcade Fire is selling emotion, U2 sound like they are selling shoes." Same goes for The National, I think. There's something incredible about a cinematic, epic song about hiding in your apartment and watching TV that just doesn't sound as good as, say, Bono still not finding what he's looking for.
My only complaint about the show was that they didn't play "Lit Up," but I suppose they're pretty sick of that one. Well done, The National.