Sometimes a band doesn’t just soundtrack your life — they shape it. That’s what The National has done for me.
I remember the first song I heard. I read quite a bit on music press online as a source of recommendations. I reckon it was the end of year 'best of' albums for 2007, Pitchfork (online music website) listed Boxer, their fourth album.
Starting, quietly, slowly with piano and that voice! Matt’s baritone, like gravel soaked in wine — singing things I didn’t even know I needed to hear. Lines that felt like they’d been plucked straight from my own late-night thoughts. "Half awake, in a fake empire". Who was this guy!?
Boxer is still one of my favourite albums of all time. And I won’t hear a word against it!
The intimacy of it all. It was like reading someone’s diary and realising it could’ve been yours. There’s a comfort in knowing someone else has felt the same ache, the same fear, the same quiet longing. And The National always knows how to make that ache sound beautiful.
It was human. Raw. Honest. And that’s what I’ve always loved most about The National — their ability to speak to the moments in between. The quiet despair. The reluctant hope. The ache that lingers even in joy.
But they’re not just sad songs for rainy days. They’re poetry. They bring tension and tenderness together and wrap them in stunning arrangements. I don't think I've ever heard a drummer that compares to Bryan Devendorf. Listened in isolation, its almost like he's completely independent to the rest of the music and doesn't quite fit, yet his intricacies work, and actually knit with the incredibly nuanced work of the twin Dessner brothers guitars and keys. Together, they build songs slowly, patiently — like they trust you to stay for the whole story.
I recall too, feeling really bloody annoyed that about a month prior to me 'discovering' them, my own little prize, that they had just played a small local venue here in Melbourne. I had missed my chance. It would be 3 years before they would return in January 2011.
I was so excited to see them. Bought tickets for both nights at a much larger venue than their previous tour. So you can imagine my pain when I got 'flu. Not 'Man-flu'…proper 'flu, where you ache all over and can't get out of bed. The Palais Theatre is a seated venue. We had tickets up high. I did all I could to get there and while everyone else stood…I sat. And just listened. Let the experience wash over me. Never to be forgotten. Second night, in the stalls I felt much better . When Matt wandered off stage and into the crowd during “Mr. November,” screaming like a man possessed, I felt something like spiritual release. Strangers screaming lyrics in unison — “I won’t f*** us over, I’m Mr. November!” That’s when I realised that this isn’t just a band. There’s a whole a community. A shared language for those of us who overthink, who feel too much, who find beauty in melancholy.
They keep evolving. They’re still experimenting, still opening up. Matt Berninger has branched off into solo things too, if you feel like a familiar tangent. I don’t always know where they’re taking me, but I trust them. Every album feels like a conversation, like an old friend checking in, reminding you you’re not alone in the chaos.
So yeah. I love The National. In a way that feels bigger than just music. In a way that’s woven into who I am.
If you’ve ever felt everything is just too hard, too emotional, too stressful…just too much — listen to The National. I promise they’ll understand you.
And maybe, just maybe, you’ll feel a little less alone.
I can't really recommend one album - I love them all and they all bring something both familiar and comforting, but different too.
The one that got me hooked - Boxer
The Grammy winner - Sleep Well Beast
The one that everyone loved - High Violet