Review - It only takes a handful of songs before Matt Berninger is in amongst the crowd at Spark Arena. It's a recurring feature of The National shows: the restless singer paces the stage, seemingly trying to connect with each attendee personally, until eventually the dam breaks and he enters the throng, adoring fans parting as he goes. This time he makes it as far as the sound desk before looping back toward the stage.
The fans were extremely well catered to on Saturday night, with the band playing for over two hours, showcasing their two 2023 releases The First Two Pages of Frankenstein and Laugh Track, but making sure to include tunes from throughout the catalogue.
Guitarist Aaron Dessner acknowledged the New Zealand shows they'd cancelled due to the pandemic, and how the band wanted to make it up to us. Fans of Boxer and High Violet in particular would have been pleased.
The last time I'd seen The National was at The Powerstation in 2011. I'd been to their 2008 Kings Arms show too. The band onstage at Spark have changed in some ways - they're much more famous, for one thing, collaborating with the likes of Taylor Swift, and came with a light show and guest musicians befitting that status - but at their core remain the same, disarmingly casual between songs, and fiercely committed during them.
On the way to the show, my friend (unfamiliar with the band's music until recently), wondered about the appeal. "Is he (Berninger) charming?" they asked. I said yes, extremely. But outside that, I think the key to their success is that they seem quite ordinary. The music is safe enough to have mainstream appeal, but edgy enough to satisfy more adventurous listeners.
To my ears they went through a bit of a lull in the back half of last decade, but now seem thoroughly revitalised. The combination of stately, impeccably-arranged music with rumpled, volatile frontman evidently has plenty of mileage left.
I told my friend "you'll get it once you've seen them live", and at the show's end they said they were never bored, despite not knowing the songs. Berninger's magnetism aside, the band's ability to captivate is still remarkable.
Early highlights included 'Eucalyptus', its refrain of "you should take it, 'cause I'm not gonna take it" giving the singer a chance to point at as many crowd members as possible, and 'The System Only Dreams in Total Darkness', with the chorus line "I can't explain it any other way" his first chance to really bellow, the band playing to the back of the room in turn.
The outro to 'Space Invader' was colossal and seat-rattling, and 'Smoke Detector', introduced as an improvisation that stuck, proved weirdly compelling, Berninger muttering and ranting as the Dessner brothers set their guitars to 'shred'.
The newer tracks impressed, but it was the old favourites that got the biggest response. During the verses to 'Fake Empire', the crowd's singing was audible over the band, the song finishing with some triumphant brass courtesy of those guest musicians.
Berninger's voice cracked on the high notes in 'Pink Rabbits', but it didn't matter. It's one of their finest, led by his constantly shifting melodies and fantastic lyrics like "I was a television version of a person with a broken heart".
And the highest points came near the end: firstly 'About Today' dropped the volume to near-silence during its pauses, only to ratchet up for a massive finish. And 'Vanderlyle Crybaby Geeks' was performed acoustically, with no vocal mics, as the band led the crowd in an arena-sized singalong. A bit gimmicky, sure, but undeniably affecting.
The National are one of those bands greater than the sum of their parts. Berninger's eccentricities and sharp lyrics are buoyed immeasurably by Dessner's emotive chord arrangements, and the band would be nowhere near as compelling without Bryan Devendorf's innovative, impeccable drumming.
The power of their combined forces is impossible to deny when seen live: five seemingly ordinary guys who will do their best to break your heart one minute, and have you pumping your fist the next.