The National – ‘First Two Pages of Frankenstein’ album review
The National are back with another slew of sad songs that sound almost indistinguishable from everything else they’ve written. And yet again, First Two Pages of Frankenstein is a masterful feat that makes for a sumptuous listen. Like the male versions of Adele, their songwriting oeuvre suggests that they have been going through a break-up perpetually for 20 straight years. And somehow, they still pluck stirring new lines and morose melodies from this well-harvested tree and triumph towards another consummate assortment of ditties.
This time, they’ve freshened things up by welcoming three friends to the studio: Sufjan Stevens, Taylor Swift and Phoebe Bridgers. The sum of their involvement is to make proceedings about 15% more poppy than usual. That is not to diminish the quality of the contributions – that 15% is particularly potent on the epic ‘The Alcott’ featuring Swift, making for a wonderful melodic trip that might force a few ardent hipsters to reassess the plus-points of pop cheesiness – but the supporting artists are very much assimilated into The National’s stylings, and that’s perfectly fine. In fact, none of this wry patter is meant as a disparagement—the album is great, and, in turn, it successfully highlights the overrated virtue of musical evolution that often trips bands up rather than sending them down a bright new path.
Yes, there are plenty of examples of a band pedalling out fan-satiating stuff and going sorely stale, but The National have never been that sort of outfit and there is no questioning that sincerity is still lighting a fire beneath their bleak piano-led tales of break-ups and heating them to soul-warming heights. Bolstered by frequently strong writing over their steadfast instrumentation, with lines like “there you are sitting as usual with your golden notebook, writing something about someone who used to be”, their sad indie isn’t far from faultless in a compositional sense.
The record starts in characteristic fashion with an A-major key piano line plodded out sombrely as Matt Berninger paints a picture of poolside divorce in motion. Then ‘Eucalyptus’ continues to march up that same melancholy hill as Berninger this time asks who keeps what, before ‘New Order T-Shirt’ introduces a lilting guitar riff to lighten things at the right moment. It is also here where Berninger delves deeper into offering up lyrical specificity, exposing the songwriting truth that often things that sound more personal end up holding more universality—I’ve never been to a Kentucky Aquarium with an ex but it is somehow a relatable scene by virtue of its imagery.
Then this very solid start seals the deal with the building ‘This Isn’t Helping’. The anthemic track harks back to their breakthrough ‘Fake Empire’ as it builds towards a bold crescendo. With that, First Two Pages of Frankenstein has established itself. You are left solidly reassured that the band are certainly in their groove—a groove that they can now call their own. A few drum machines then enter the mix to keep things fresh and ‘Ice Machines’ is a sparse moment of pause, but ultimately they’re just letting their natural muse roam free in familiar pastures.
It is a muse that will certainly welcome a new generation of fans into their corduroy-clad world of beautiful sorrow, thanks to the clever bookings of their collaborators and slightly more polished approach. It might not zip with the pizzazz of raw vigour or invention and there’s the occasional slightly cliched bit of clumsiness or tad of cheese, but when you nestle into the mood, all of these points are somewhat moot because their compositional orchestration remains honed to a humbling wallop.
Never Miss A Beat
The Far Out New Music Newsletter
All the latest New Music from the independent voice of culture.
Straight to your inbox.