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The visual metaphor isn’t lost on me; The National are a group of disheveled, middle-aged rockers that look like they could be from any state in the U.S. A major portion of the breaks between sets on September 5th were filled by my friends’ argument on where the National were from. The answers brought back repressed memories of Ms. South Carolina: England was among the first guesses.

Since then, Wikipedia has dutifully supplied an answer and left this poor writer with little more to dwell on other than the overall brilliance of the set of the Ohio/Brooklyn alternative band.

The National isn’t an easy band to label, it constantly changes its sound, leap-frogging from folky rock to a more New Yorker indie sound. The glue that keeps the albums together is singer Matt Berninger. His deep, throaty vocals deliver monotone without the monotony, throwing around melodies, screams, and involving lyrics. It might be a good idea to not indulge into the lyrics too much though, Berninger’s tales are anything but happy. The live show made it easier to understand Berninger’s drawl (which, thanks to some extra production, we’re much improved on their latest album, Boxer). Truly, its the words that give The National’s albums real backbone and staying power; hooks alone do not a great band make.

“You get mistaken for strangers by your own friends, when you pass them at night under the silvery bank lights”

The set itself was constructed well, forgoing their blandest album, the self-titled debut, for some tasty cuts from their most recent LPs. 2007’s Boxer dominated the set, but 2005’s Alligator made some appearances, as well as some EPs and Sad Songs for Dirty Lovers. Their influences are impossible to identify, which can attributed to The National’s uniqueness in a sea of imitators. At times, you’ll hear U2, Radiohead, or even Tom Waits; all prime bands to strive for.

Boxer, with intense drumming and lyrical masterwork, is easily my favorite album of 2007. Comparatively, The National’s live show was a bit of a letdown. The National, for all their stage presence, can’t capture the stereophonic experience of their latest album live. Their other work fared much better, with The National applying their new production values to some of their older hits. Overall, the show was great and Berninger came out a star. Despite fighting what seemed to be a mix of narcotics and a cold, Nick was able to compose himself well enough to sing with soul, and, when the song called for it, scream his lungs out.

“Don’t worry,” he assured the audience at one point, “I’m not contagious.”

It’s true. The National was the most contagious thing in the 930 club that night.