The National Do What They Do Best
On ‘Sleep Well Beast,’ The National continues to traverse the endlessly perplexing sea of love.
Since the 2007 release of their breakthrough album, Boxer, The National have exhibited a knack for producing instant classics. The science of crafting an instant classic isn’t easy; the music has to feel at once completely fresh and impossibly recognizable, and the lyrics have to leave an immediate imprint on your heart. The Brooklyn-via-Cincinnati indie rock icons have filled their past three albums with exactly that. Tracks like “Apartment Story,” “I Need My Girl,” and nearly every song from 2009’s High Violet demand to be cherished by fans — to be sung emphatically in both massive concert halls and lonely bedrooms.
On their latest release, Sleep Well Beast, The National apply the same formula: twin brothers Aaron and Bryan Dessner weaving impeccable, sensitive, sonic arrangements and frontman Matt Berninger sleepily delivering his one-of-a-kind abstract musings on love and adulthood.
In May, The National teased listeners with “The System Only Dreams in Total Darkness,” showing that the band has been in no hurry to leave the instant-classic-making business. The track chugs along with a tom-heavy, jitterbug drumbeat and whiplashes with uncharacteristically distorted guitar licks. The lyrics gesture toward an existential misunderstanding between romantic partners: “We’re in a different kind of thing now / All night you’re talking to God.” Slowly tensions rise, exploding with Berninger’s frustrated appeal to those confused by the song’s title: “I cannot explain it / oh-ah, any other / any other way!” This single kicks serious ass — a surefire staple at live shows for years to come — and previews the album’s exploration of communication breakdowns in long-term relationships.
So what’s new on this album? What separates it from its predecessors? Not much actually. Sleep Well Beast offers the Dessners’ familiar sentimental, yet punchy soundscapes, and Berninger’s famous ruminations on fraught relationships. What sets this album apart is its more experimental, glitchy, Nigel Godrich-esque production and greater lyrical emphasis on themes of opposition — especially antagonism as a consequence of love.
Sleep Well Beast opens with “Nobody Else Will Be There,” where we hear one side of a soft-spoken confrontation atop a melancholy piano melody and the flutters of electro-orchestral ambience. Berninger voices a character who just wants to leave a boring New York party but feels ignored by their partner: “Hey baby, where were you back there / When I needed your help?” This portrayal is just the first glimpse of two characters who are out of sync — not on the same emotional wavelength. The title signals that, for better or worse, no matter how much their wavelengths deviate, they only have each other. Throughout the album, we see more evidence of their relationship’s staleness and the characters’ action (actually, mostly inaction) to repair it.
The album proceeds directly to “The Day I Die,” an energetic, true rock track that casts doubt on the conviction of “Nobody Else Will Be There” by asking, “The day I die / where will we be?” While the opener’s chorus resigned to the fact that this long-term couple forms an isolated pair, “The Day I Die” wonders if, ultimately, they’re actually going to make it that far. As Berninger hopelessly searches for some crystal ball to predict their future, the band matches his anxious uncertainty by pounding on and on at a panicky pace.
After establishing the emotional dilemma in the first two tracks, The National proceed to illustrate the couple’s resignation, miscommunication, and existential realizations. “Walk it Back” is a declaration of non-confrontation, choosing to focus not on saving the relationship but damage-control for its eventual demise: “I only take up a little of the collapsing space / I better cut this off / Don’t wanna fuck up the place.” Seventh track “Empire Line,” however, imagines a confrontation and places the couple back on equal footing: “Can’t you find a way? / You are in this too.” Sleep Well Beast’s midsection charts the extreme reactions to the recognition of a stale relationship: from resignation to inferiority to a demand for respect and attention.
Sleep Well Beast approaches some semblance of resolution in its final tracks. “Carin in the Liquor Store” pairs resignation with conviction and stands out as The National’s latest triumph. The music is…perfect. Aaron Dessner taps out a moody yet earnest piano line that can provoke tears in mere seconds. The distorted, low-tone guitar solo from brother Bryce wails like muffled sobbing. While the lyrics don’t pack the punch of thematic ancestor “Vanderlyle Crybaby Geeks” off High Violet, “Carin” digs into you slowly like a long knife. By the third time we hear, “So blame it on me / I really don’t care / It’s a foregone conclusion,” we begin to understand how Berninger feels at once victim and villain.
The National enter new territory with title track, “Sleep Well Beast” — a six and a half minute sonic collage of clipped up vocal samples, sparse electronic drumbeats, subtle synth arpeggios, buzzy yet choked-up guitar licks, and swelling strings. Berninger rumbles out a gravelly baritone that sounds like a menacing monster from a children’s folktale — this is the voice of the “beast” that defines the album. The outro’s repeated lines express a sense of certainty, leveling out all the uncertainty of the preceding 50 minutes: “I’ll still destroy you someday, sleep well, beast / You as well, beast.”
We hear, for the first time, two distinct voices in conversation. It’s simultaneously funny and sad; partners in a relationship are portrayed as cuddling beasts threatening to ruin one another eventually, but just not tonight. A romantic partner will constantly frustrate and disappoint you in their inability to change, yet you still love them. The dissonance between your attraction to and endless frustration with your partner generates the power of the beast. The tension will wear you down for months, years, and decades. But in the end, they are yours and you are theirs — two beasts with no one else to ruin.
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