omigod: the national live in nyc

First a capsule review, then the long version: The National’s show at the Bowery Ballroom on Friday — the last of a sold-out five-night run — was not only the best show I’ve seen this year, but was also one of the best shows I’ve seen in the last five years. The only other times in recent memory I remember feeling such a palpable sense of exhilaration after a concert was Ghostface at South by Southwest and Nas at Nokia Times Square Theater, and this show beat both.

The band is astonishing live, possessing an incredible knack for dynamics and tone. They know how a song should be pushed and pulled, and they know how to ride a song to near-crescendo without going over the side. Their playing was flawless, and the songs vibrated with expressiveness and power. The core group was augmented by a small two-piece horn section and a sideman who handled violin and electric piano. “Fake Empire” built to a tremendous, trembling conclusion, and “Daughters of the Soho Riots” was grand and twinkling, sewn up with sweeping violin. The songs built naturally, and rather than rushing to a cheap finales it often felt like the band was letting the songs tug them along. It was measured but never boring or solemn — it was, instead, absolutely electric.

There’s an abstract power to the National’s songs that takes an even stronger hold live, transforming the live show into something unreal and borderline-spiritual. The crowd erupted in applause constantly — as many as 3 or 4 times within a single song — and after a while it became clear that they weren’t cheering the band so much as they were cheering the songs. The first cheer went up after Matt Berninger delivered the first line of opener “Start A War,” and the crowd remained that rapt and overjoyed for the remainder of the show. Because the National’s songs are so quiet, there were moments where you could hear all 600 people in the Bowery Ballroom singing Berninger’s lyrics along with him, a kind of ghostly, adoring choir. I’m not ashamed to say I got goosebumps about 15 different times. Their songs are tense and coiled on record, but they were crackling with potential energy live; “Geese of Beverly Road” was majestic, building to a great, swelling conclusion during which the entire room sang “We’re the heirs to the glimmering world” over and over and over again in sweet, delicate unity. Berninger is a master lyricist, able to write lyrics that everybody gets but nobody quite understands — it’s a kind of strange, instinctual knowledge, so when he sang “I think this place is full of spies,” or “Showered and blue-blazered, fill yourself with quarters,” the room’s applause seemed to signify a kind of weird collective consciousness: everyone knew what he was driving at, and everyone at some point had felt the same way. Being there was indescribable — it was like living in isolation a foreign country for twenty tears and then suddenly being surrounded by hundreds of people who spoke your language. Put together, it was mass, sustained euphoria.

The moments that the band full-on erupted were just as rewarding. “Lit Up” was white-hot and propulsive (who knew the line “Bad blood for everybody” sounded so great when shouted by a crowd?) and “Mr. November” went from an anthem of thwarted potential to a kind of group affirmation. Near the end, of course, came “Abel,” which threw the crowd into a collective frenzy — the big deserved indulgent and wonderful exclamation point. And because they could take it no higher emotionally there was no choice but to take it higher physically: near the middle of the song, Berninger made his way over to the stack of amps on stage right and climbed on top of them. He’s a tall and lanky guy and balanced on top of all those amplifiers he could practically touch the club’s ceiling. He stood up there for the remainder of the song, bellowing out the its frantic chorus — “My mind’s not right!” — with his eyes clamped shut, while everyone below him bellowed it right back.

It was in many ways the night’s perfect summary statement: Berninger may be crazy, but he isn’t alone.

I found this brief YouTube clip (embedding was disabled by the user) of the group performing “Secret Meeting” at Friday’s show. The sound isn’t great, but you can hear everything I’m talking about if you listen closely.