By: Jon Behm
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The National - Photo by Jon Behm
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I can see where it is difficult to make Ohio fit the picture though. The National’s lead singer Matt Berninger wears a pair of beat-to-hell cowboy boots and has a deep baritone voice that rivals that of a young Johnny Cash. He attributes the distinctive voice to “smoking like a fiend,” and has the look of a young man deep-creased by hard living. To me, most of these qualities point to Texas, or some other god-forsaken place. But no, he, and the rest of the band, are from lovely Ohio.
Regardless of their providence, The National have a sound that stands out from most of the indie-rock out there today. On Thursday night, Berninger and the two pairs of brothers that make up the rest of the band treated us to some rock and roll, some self-deprecating humor and a heavy dose of sincerity. The night’s best work mostly came from the band’s recent album Boxer, which is short-listed by many music fans for one of the best albums of the year. We heard gorgeously dark and somber renditions of “Brainy” and “Green Gloves,”as well asa rocker now and again like “Mistaken for Strangers.” And of course there was the peerless “Fake Empire,” without which the crowd might have mutinied.
Throughout the show, Berninger seemed fairly shy and almost unwilling to look at the audience. When he wasn’t singing he generally had his back to us, and when he was singing he mostly only looked at the ceiling. He wasn’t shy in a painful and obvious way though as he occasionally popped the odd joke. At one point, he even gave an audience member $7 and asked for a Jack and Coke. “Usually when he does this they just take his money,” quipped guitarist Aaron Dessner. This all made for a pretty eclectic, yet appealing fellow. That must be how they make ‘em in Ohio.
Indie darling St. Vincent opened the show to a crowd that seemed as excited to see her as they were the headliner. Though I have seen her now three times, I have yet to really get into Annie Clark’s work. This was by far the best of what I have seen so far, and she seems to improve a bit each time. (With 16 total visits to Twin Cities’ venues this year under her belt, she had a lot of opportunity for practice.) With a vintage Fender guitar in hand, Clark recorded some samples, looped and re-looped them, and eventually played and sang over the orchestra of sound. What this makes for is a sometimes frantic, sometimes serene clash of sounds. Shaking her head back and forth, trading comments with the crowd, and generally having a great time, Clark was infinitely better to watch than the nervous fidgety girl I saw last Spring, who re-introduced herself to the crowd at least a dozen times and generally looked like a deer in the headlights. For me anyway, I guess the third time must be the charm, or at least as close to the charm as I will ever get with St. Vincent anyway.
Location Info:
Fine Line Music Café
Artist Info: St. Vincent, The National
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