There's Nothing Wrong With a Little Trouble

Trouble Will Find Me

The National

Released by 4AD Records

5 Out of 5 Stars

Melancholy is a word that has become synonymous with the indie rock sound of The National, but there are some surprises on their sixth studio album Trouble Will Find Me.  Don’t worry—for those who love the band’s trademark brooding nature, there’s still plenty of the outsider’s angst and alienation (Humiliation), the introvert’s painful interactions with a world he doesn’t understand how to be in  (Demons), addictive relationships that seem based more on the identification with another fragmented, damaged individual than on romantic longing (This is the Last Time).  However, the pervading darkness of previous albums seems to have given away (ever so slightly, mind) to, dare I say, the tiniest, faintest, is-it-really-there sliver of optimism?

The cover image of Trouble Will Find Me features a female face bisected with a mirror, so that one half appears to be asleep while the other half is disconcertingly awake.  This duality of awareness and unconsciousness frames the album’s lyrical content, which often juxtaposes a cautious hope and weary resignation.  Lead singer Matt Berninger writes song lyrics that reject predictable patterns—opting for a word that doesn’t quite rhyme when a more clichéd one will do, or squeezing in more syllables than the music’s rhythm seems willing to allow because he has so much more to say.  The result creates complex surprises for listeners who have become jaded to the predictability of shallow pop lyrics.  His eccentric turns of phrase often focus on the mundane, refusing to idealize life in overwrought, poetic language because life itself in its barest, most raw form is poetry.  In The National’s distinct sound, it is Berninger’s resonant and haunting baritone and the band’s orchestral layers that bring eloquence and emotional weight to these everyday fears and neuroses.

Unlike previous albums, there is an unexpected buoyancy to the music, if not always to the lyrics.  In Sea of Love, Berninger fears the prospect of succumbing to love, despite watching others willingly surrender  (“I see people on the floor.  They slide into the sea . . . I see you rushing down [don’t drag me in]”).  His words worry that “If I stay here, trouble will find me,” but the upbeat tempo suggests that trouble may be just what he needs; perhaps it will take “trouble” to upset the routine and force him to live outside of himself.  Don’t Swallow the Cap reveals a speaker who recognizes “I have only two emotions, careful fear and dead devotion.  I can’t get the balance right.”  This divergence is further emphasized by Berninger singing in the upper registers of his vocal range, layered over his own mumbling, more familiar bass.  The result is a pleasing rasp that suggests he’s closer to finding the balance than he might think. 

For the purists, there are still several more traditionally National tracks.  In Demons, an awkward Berninger resigns himself to an inability to maintain an optimistic outlook (“Every day I start so great and then the sunlight dims . . . When I walk into a room I do not light it up.  Fuck.”).  In This is the Last Time, the “sea of love” has become a swamp, sucking him under and yet “You’re the only thing I want.”  Repeatedly chanting “this is the last time” as a mantra, he seems to be trying to convince himself (and us) that he will eventually leave, though he knows the cyclical nature of the relationship will drag him down again.  In the achingly reflective Slipped, he is routinely drawn back to the place (emotional and physical) where a relationship fell apart, knowing his culpability as “I’ll never be anything you ever want me to be."

In terms of sound, Trouble Will Find Me has more in common with Alligator and Boxer than 2010’s High Violet, which featured a darker rock sound.  While I enjoyed the 2010 effort, this return to a more stripped down, poignant album is a reminder of why I fell in love with The National in the first place, and yet there’s enough difference here to hint at the promise of all that is to come.

Can't Get Enough of That Doomsday Song

The Next Day

David Bowie

Released by Columbia

4 Out of 5 Stars

For decades, David Bowie has been a musical phoenix—consuming himself in the flames of one brilliant persona before eventually rising from the ashes anew.  While time would often lapse between these musical reinventions, his 2004 heart attack worried longtime fans as year after year passed with no new music from Bowie.  The fanfare surrounding the London Olympics rekindled hope that perhaps we would see Bowie return to the world stage during the closing ceremonies.  Such hopes were dashed when his profound influence on music and style was honored with a tribute in the form of a musical montage and fashion retrospective.  The man himself did not appear.  We became reconciled to the possibility that 2003’s Reality might be the final album and, while superb, it just seemed as though the end had come too soon.  Twas a bleak time for hardcore Bowie-philes. 

So the release of the single Where Are We Now on January 8 of this year (Bowie’s birthday) and the subsequent announcement of an album with 14 all new tracks (and 3 bonus tracks on the deluxe edition) to be released in March was met with much rejoicing and, on my part, some trepidation.  A fan of every Bowie incarnation (with the exception of the 80’s Bowie-lite), it was difficult for me to imagine a world in which my idol could create an album I wouldn’t like.  However, with no original music for a decade, it was difficult to predict which direction Bowie’s new sound would take.  My greatest fear was that he would succumb to the same temptations as many other aging rock stars seeking to recapture past glories.  Would he try to imitate or perfect upon popular contemporary music in an attempt to gain a newer, younger audience?  Or would he unsuccessfully try to return to the musical stylings of his past?  Would he, dear God in heaven no, mellow out and release an album of traditional crooner standards, proving he just didn’t have what it takes to rock and was instead content to totter on into old age, lounge lizard style?  (That’s right--I’m looking at you, Rod Stewart.) 

Despite my worries, I’m still a devout Bowie fan so I pre-ordered The Next Day as soon as its release was announced and waited.  And waited.  And waited.  Finally, blessed March arrived and a ridiculously oversized package for such a tiny thing as a CD appeared at my door.  With trembling hands, I sliced through the tape, pulled out those annoying-as-hell little air bags that seem to go on forever, feeling like the dad in a Christmas Story as he desperately searches through the packing crate to claim his prize.  I removed the final bit of packing and there it was in all its black and white simplicity.  The first sign that all was well was the cover of the new album:  a white square simply declaring it is The Next Day, defacing the stylized pose from the iconic Heroes cover.  This seems to be Bowie suggesting that, while there are subtle nods to the past on the album, this is Bowie now with no apologies and no need to chase after what has been. 

To say The Next Day is Bowie’s best album would be inaccurate, but it is an excellent album whose sound owes more to 2002’s Heathen and the previously mentioned Reality.  Each song has a unique sound as Bowie puts his own spin on pop, rock, and soul.  The opening track, The Next Day, with a driving tempo and guitar, proves Bowie hasn’t lost his edge nor his ability to infuse a rock song with theatrical attitude.  There are several standout tracks here—my favorite is Dirty Boys, a song featuring a sneering, leering groove, suggestive saxophones, and Bowie’s almost sinister vocals slithering around every syllable.  The Stars Are Out Tonight, If You Can See Me, and Set the World on Fire also deserve honorable mentions, as does the instrumental Plan.  The songs alternate between upbeat, positive pop tempos with sometimes surprisingly dark themes, and rough edged rockers with clever lyrics and word play.   The album makes strong use of Bowie’s ability to create pleasing sounds out of sometimes jarring melodies and discordant vocal harmonies (especially on If You Can See Me).  Most of the songs explore the lower registers of Bowie’s voice (to me, this has always been the most appealing use of his vocal range), which have become more resonant with time.  However, he certainly hasn’t lost his ability to make one song stand apart from another by simply creating a new narrative “voice,” evoking a differing tone, character, or attitude on each. 

As the album concluded with I’ll Take You There, my fears had been allayed and I knew that Bowie was safe from musical oblivion.  Forgive me, Bowie, for I have sinned and doubted you.  Never again.  Just please don’t make me wait another 10 years for an album as my penance.