I’ve been kicking at the filing cabinet for a good few minutes now, mildly collapsing mentally, conspicuously unable to open it, to retrieve the stylish little red recorder nestled within, conscious that the other one, upstairs in the studio, is rendered meaningless by the lack of connecting wires, which are carefully stored in this filing cabinet. Behind me the phone I’m meant to be talking on is in use anyway, and a feeling of monstrous nothingness instils itself heavy upon my shoulders. I lobbied to get this interview, and it is gently slipping away like ribina through clenched teeth.

The National popped up a few years ago, releasing a few EP’s, including the excellent Sad Songs for Dirty Lovers,on their own label: Brasslands, the result of a few years of messing around. Their success has been a slow burner, much like their music. It grows on you. It seems, initially, clichéd and heavily referential, but seems to creep up on you. Their last two albums (since they moved to Beggars Banquet) have been noticeably more successful. Unlike with a lot of music that takes time to assert itself positively it is not actually the music itself you have to re-evaluate, its your own thoughts on the issue. You see, or hear, rather, the problem is The National have a singer with a deep voice, play guitars, have insistent, driving rhythms and slyly humorous poses, filled broken relationships and obscure, nearly poetic references, within their lyrics. One almost cannot help but hear Joy Division and Interpol and immediately bracket them. But it’s us, not them. They actually bear mere resemblance, (see above list, if you’ve already forgotten), other than their general brilliance. Now, don’t shout, they’re nothing next to the great seething dark brilliance of Joy Division, but they do stand up to Interpol. Alligator is actually quite the little gem and it’s a little bad natured of me to suggest that its just Beggars Banquets PR dept. that made the difference. Boxer, their second album on Beggars, is actually a further step up, surprisingly.

Hopelessly, I finally, dejectedly give the handle of the filling cabinet one last hopeful little tug, a pathetic nonsense attempt after the spoon jamming and full arm wrenches I was giving it a few minutes later. Naturally, like a cliché, it slides open. A sex kitten of a filing cabinet, playing hard to get. I find Aaron Dessner (multi-instrumentalist, brother of the rhythm guitarist) in a coffee shop, buying, well, coffee. The interview starts after a few minutes of me, panicked, talking down the line whilst he completes his purchase and ignores me.

The National have matured in public, taking a relatively unpromising start, almost feeling their way, from the generic to something with more than a passing resemblance of brilliance. “We all grew up in Cincinnati Ohio, in suburban quiet city, without much access to culture, and me and my brother started a band in our basement with our friends. It continued through high school. Eventually we all went to college in New York city, and years later, we were all living in Brooklyn, we had the idea, to get together. We’d play at the weekends and drink some beers…” They gradually found a voice, the lyrics of Matt Berninger progressing from nearly mindlessly repeated cliches, to minor poetry, full of small images and moments that mesh to create a picture of loneliness and break ups far more effectively than his more literal first attempts. “It was a very gradual process…”

They formed Brasslands along with Alec Hanley Bemis in 2001. Unlike, say, The Mystery Jets decision to form a record label, it wasn’t because they had been rejected by a label. “It was definitely our choice. When we first started making songs and getting together, we were just a bunch of friends, and it (the band) was never something we never intended to do professionally, we did it for fun. Eventually we made our first record, and really liked it, and a fiend of ours said he used to have a label in school, so we re-started it and put out the record. Then there was another record by my brothers other band, but we never actually sent our music into any labels. Even then we were really into independent music and we never really though about major labels or anything.”

Following the reception of the Sad Songs for Dirty lover’s EP they signed to Beggars Banquet, one of the larger “indie” labels knocking about encompassing Rough Trade records amongst others (Gary Numan!). “Well, yeah they’re a bigger label, but still an indie label, so there’s still the feeling like they’re a family. And they’ve supported us really well, helped bring the National international…” It marked a jump in critical aclaim for The National’s next album Alligator. Was it thanks to Beggars? “Well…. I don’t know if it was that. I think Alligator was definitely the first album that, kind of, became something more… well not mainstream but… it seemed very popular. I’m not sure if that was something to do with Beggars as much as where we were, in terms of our sound. It was a very good time, a lot of blogs caught on to what we were doing. Obviously Beggars helped with what we were doing, making it available to everybody.”

Live The National play their tracks expertly, filling the space between performer and audience with an aural presence so complete as to almost be physical. Their songs become big stomping beasts, saturating the gig almost as completely as the sweat-smell. After their recent Dublin gig a friend of mine was so hoarse from shouting, she could hardly speak the next day. An achievement. “We are intense, we try to bring the songs to life. We’re a live band, first and foremost, although that was the last bit we did… Certainly Matt is a captivating front man, you never know what he’ll do. We try to get a lot out of it.”

So we chatted a wee bit on, talked politics (”we’re left wing liberals”) and the road noise became to loud to hear anything for a few minutes. He patiently waited it out, some firetrucks passing, and said goodbye. I’d managed to save a wee bit of the ribena, despite my clenched teeth.

Andrew Booth is an intercontinental dandy. He is co-writing his first novel Jackdaw Fool.
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