Self-knowledge and self-irony

The feeling at the first and then permanent listening to this album and his mood are very similar to that reported feeling the early 90s, as SEMs timeless masterpiece Automatic For The People came out.

First of all is there a single: then that incomparable "Drive" and today this as unique "Bloodbuzz Ohio". Two songs for the ages that are a revelation again at every accidental or intentional bye.

Then you buy the corresponding album and finds it immediately well. By no means outstanding, but good. Then you hear it again and then again and again, and at once you know that the entire disk, the songs and their order are absolutely thought. And the words to do so. And the arrangements. And the production. And then you know that it blends into it, into it nestles in the personal gallery of the all-time favorite albums of a life. They grow with you, give you support and comfort and create sometime - that takes years - an idea of ​​home, security, memory, and perhaps fanatical nostalgia.

I confess that I was simply known as The National band name until I clicked on detours this unusual black and white video of "Bloodbuzz Ohio" on Amazon.com one day. To be seen: a bearded, slimmer average guy in a Columbo trench coat or a shirt, tie and suit vest, alone on a park bench, with a walk in the woods, in an overgrown pond, in a bar or, sometimes delightfully clumsy prancing to his own music, in an otherwise empty studio. I was immediately captivated by this unusual appearance, this creamy arranged, beautifully melancholy catchy and dark, very pleasant voice of Matt Berninger.

The accompanying album begins with a bit of getting used to, "Terrible Love", a slightly Schrammel ends, seemingly somewhat aimlessly meandering alternative rock song. But then comes the incredibly beautiful "Sorrow" already the first of ten song highlights to discover, detect, investigate applies, and which one, apart from "Bloodbuzz Ohio", but never really thinks he knows by heart. But that will change with each subsequent run.

High Violet is like a slowly developing fire that develops only after a considerable time to his true size and then heated but the longer and more intense. A melancholic statement, crisscrossed by more mature self-knowledge and softly twinkling irony. And although here not those brilliance and perfection is achieved with every song, so is likely to me this record but almost as intense and indestructible by my existence accompany such Automatic For The People.

'Sorrow found me when I was young / Sorrow waited, sorrow won / Sorrow That put me on the pills / It's in my honey, it's in my milk' (The National: "Sorrow").