The National breaks hearts and microphone stands in Oakland

May 26, 2010, at the Fox Theater

By Katherine Hoffert
Published: May 31st, 2010 | 12:00am

The first of the National’s two-night run at Oakland’s illustrious Fox Theater was as emotionally taxing as last Sunday’s LOST finale—and far more seamless. Kicking off a summer of international dates in support of their fifth studio album, High Violet (4AD), the Brooklyn-based dark indie rock ensemble—twins Aaron and Bryce Dessner, brothers Scott and Bryan Devendorf, and vocalist Matt Berninger—was joined by a small horn section and Padma Newsome on keys, violin, and viola, which made for a mini orchestra onstage. Yet, even with so many instrumentalists and layers (and brothers), the music still felt lonely.

The source of this loneliness was unmistakably Berninger. His poetic, introspective lyrics are as world-weary as the Boss and as lovesick as Ian Curtis—and Berninger delivered them with sad eyes, a handsome baritone, and emotion that was as real as the day they were written. Sporting a suit jacket, tie, and wedding ring, he anxiously ran offstage after the first few songs (later joking that’s where he kept his drugs), and stayed obsessively close to his wine glass throughout the night. While the band made up for his nervousness with their confidence and captivating set list—revisiting songs off 2005’s Alligator and 2007’s Boxer (Beggars Banquet) as well as covering the entirety of High Violet—Berninger’s pain was ultimately the lynchpin and resonated effortlessly with the crowd at the nearly sold-out show.

While introducing “Sorrow” as “the funny song,” with its opening line “Sorrow found me when I was young / Sorrow waited, sorrow won,” the National made light of their inability to write happy songs. In fact, the most frequently used words of the night were “alone,” “afraid,” “love,” and “disappoint.” But Berninger’s desperate plea of “I’ll get money, I’ll get funny again” from opener “Start a War” and urgent desire of “I want to start over, I want to be winning” in “Slow Show” didn’t feel whiny or overwrought. This is no Conor Oberst; this is a father and a husband who is supposed to be strong but is admittedly “Afraid of Everyone” and sings of his fear and failure. Even when Berninger’s words were difficult to understand, the National’s tense bed of guitars, mournful fanfare, and near-panicked drums communicated this sadness beautifully.

As the final swirling keys of “England” gave way to the first few notes of “Fake Empire,” a collective sigh of relief spread across the dark auditorium and an enthused crowd started clapping along—stopping as soon as they realized they couldn’t keep up with the song’s tricky polyrhythm. It was these communal moments, like during “Apartment Story” when the crowd sang along to its anthemic chorus of “We’ll stay inside ‘til somebody finds us / Do whatever the TV tells us,” that made the show oddly inspiring. It was also inspiring to see a pretty drunk and much less reserved Berninger really let go during the encore, where he broke his mic stand during the frantic chorus of “Mr. November,” and then threw the replacement stand up into the air during “Terrible Love,” before ending the night on the affirmation “It takes an ocean not to break.” (There’s another LOST parallel in there somewhere.)

In the end, the National created intimacy through their loneliness and brought the room together in emotional catharsis. And it didn’t even take six years of side-winding, time-traveling flashbacks!

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The National official site

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4AD Records