‘About Today’: the saddest moment in The National’s discography
The National really are proof that any band has a shot at hitting the big time. Not because of how terrifyingly out there the music is or how radical they are, but in the fact that while I believe their music is both radical and out there, they are those things in such a quiet, intimate way. The fact that this band achieved a dedicated fan base isn’t a shock. However, it being big enough to sell out any arena in the English-speaking world is utterly ludicrous when you think about it.
This is a band whose music comes from the quietest moments of insecurity and sadness you’ll face. It’s very easy to tar them with the “depressed dad band” tag because so much of their music fits that description to a tee. I mean, ‘Bloodbuzz Ohio’ is about getting so stressed about drowning in debt that you get drunk enough to reminisce about a hometown you hated. As someone in their 30s, that hits dangerously close to home.
However, at their core, there is something truly relatable about the way that The National writes about the topics that inform their music. There is a specificity in frontman Matt Berninger’s writing style, but one that lets the audience into the song, rather than presents them with something they can’t relate to.
The best of all examples of this is also The National’s outright saddest moment. A song that has gone on to be one of the most beloved in the band’s whole back catalogue. After all, a group that wears its “depressed dad” tag with pride does attract a few depressed dads to their church. The kind of guy who would listen to a song like ‘About Today and know precisely what the band are talking about.
The National stir emotions with ‘About Today’
‘About Today’ is about the unspoken part of a relationship just about to begin ending. Berninger begins the song brutally, and it doesn’t let up from there. “Today / You were far away / And I / Didn’t ask you ‘Why?’ / What could I say? / I was far away” paints a picture of a partnership drifting just beyond the point of no return in a way that we’ve all seen first-hand. You’ve either been the person far away or tried to catch their attention. Given time, you’ll be both.
Where the verses are almost impressionistic in their depiction of the feelings that make up the breakdown of a relationship, the chorus is the exact opposite. They’re the moment that you say the quiet part loud, that you make the painful, strong choice to address the elephant in the room. “How close am I / to losing you?”
The studio version is content to let the song sit in its uncertainty. The strings and picked acoustic guitar were as low-key an adornment as anything this band did in their early years. To me, however, the live versions are the most definitive. Those live versions climax with a vast swell of noise, the kind that fills the enormo-domes the band calls home these days.
That gives the ending a power that the studio version (by design) lacks. That noise is progression. It’s the sound of finding the strength to address what’s wrong and finding the solution. It’s not a happy ending or a sad ending, because sometimes the solution is ending a partnership that’s run its course.
It’s yet another example of the sheer power this band wields and how, really, it’s no surprise people love them the way they do.
