From the root of The National`s set at Openluchttheater Caprera Bloemendaal (a beautiful amphitheater-style outdoor venue), the signs were pointing toward a rainstorm of biblical proportions. From the lyrics of opener Runaway, it was apparent what sort of eve we were in for: What makes you mean I`m enjoying being left to the flood?
Not one of us was enjoying it, initially, and it was clearly that the rain would not let up; we could either get one with the weather and love the show, or let the conditions consume our pleasure.
Lead singer Matt Berninger made lighter of it: "It`s perfect on a night like this, when you guys are wet and cold, to run slowly and sad depressing music." Though, his and the remainder of the band`s showed admiration for such a serious work out despite the weather.
This would never occur in the States, he joked, as photographers clambered around the moat trying to get the shot.
And as Bloodbuzz Ohio kicked off, concertgoers donning a colorful variety of ponchos and raincoats danced in the aisles, beers in hand, indifferent of the rain. They didn`t care. It was just water, and you only experience once.
Berninger cracked jokes throughout the set, presenting a more comical and very lighthearted guy, in complete contrast to the image of gravity of which the National`s songs portray. My friend once labeled them a lot of unfathomable sadness, and despite his dramatization of what their music has come to be known by, he`s not far off. But what some might call sad bastard music, others would mark the Home as poetic, atmospheric, and the image of quality songwriting.
They peeled through a bulk of live year`s High Violet, dotting the set with fan favorites such as Boxer`s rueful number Slow Show and the standout rock anthem from 2005′s Alligator, Abel.
And even the rain fell; a never-ending deluge that was certain to embrace and wash us out to sea. Right on cue was Matt Berningers javelin-inspired toss of his mic stand into the moat, one last act of defiance to those pesky rain gods who would not give us be. A healthy slug of the flask was only about due.
"Despite the rain, this is an astonishing place," claimed guitarist Bryce Dessner. No you`ve got that wrong, I thought. Because of the pelting this is an awful place. The weather lent a unique atmosphere that helped hone a truly one-of-a-kind get that not one of us will soon forget. We`ll all surely think that National show we witnessed on that rainy summer night of 2011 in a little Dutch beach town, sitting in the pissing rain, experiencing terrible spring weather on what should have been a warm July evening. And I`m sure they will, too.
The ring took the point once again for the inevitable encore, putting on the feeling that they were discussing what songs to play: It`s like we`re at band practice, Berninger joked.
Noticing the set list after the show, it proved that they knew what they were passing to turn from the beginning (even for the encore). One thing was certain, they were well prepared, well rehearsed, and knew just what they were doing.
Their swan song was what I learned after the be their standard gimmick: for the concluding strain of their set they disembark from their pulpit to slum it with the fans and sing their last number Vanderlyle Crybaby Geeks (a beautiful number that stayed with me for years after).
The Dessner boys (twin brothers Bryce and Aaron) set up in face of us and provided lead and rhythm guitars. Berninger weaved through the crew with mic in hand, taking shelter under a myriad of colorful umbrellas and inviting all of us to link him chanting softly, "Vanderlyle, crybaby, cry" I cant remember a more beautiful moment at a concert experience Ive attended in the past.
Sitting in the car on the way backwards to Amsterdam I reminisced, almost wish I could spend another two hours in the rain watching those Brooklyn-by-way-of-Cincinnati boys play another set, wowing us all over again. Every time I tapped my foot to the air that was playing itself out in my head, little puddles splashed up against the curve of my foot as a monitor of what just transpired: a concert for the ages.
Grant Walker /MokumGroupie
Grant Walker co-writes and edits the literary wunderzineThe Rashomon Effect. This summer he will get a fitness regimen and read to meet the guitar, apparently.
Feature photo by VinceKmeron.
Although The Interior has ever been a bit too dangerous to do it big in the pop world and a bit too elementary to make any big splashes in the post-rock world, these guys have been patiently creating dark and brooding rock for days now. And although it would be easy to write off High Violet as more of the same, it might only be The National's best release yet.
