William Earl The National’s headlining show at New York’s Madison Square Garden on Friday felt like the culmination of a 20-plus-year grassroots campaign of devotees growing the base one person at a time.
After all, nothing about the Brooklyn-by-way-of-Ohio quintet is radio-friendly: Frontman Matt Berninger sings brooding tales about shattered relationships and the creep of death in a rich baritone, while brothers Aaron and Bryce Dessner play knotty guitar lines over the thumping rhythm section of bassist Scott and drummer Bryan Devendorf, also brothers.
Over the course of nine albums, fans’ obsession has deepened, while the group has fun with its image as mopey rockers, even selling “Sad Dads” merch on tour.
Yet the perception that they lead two-hour cry sessions belies fiery live shows, with setlists heavy on high-tempo singalongs and Berninger flinging himself into the crowd to scream lyrics in the pit.
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