They’re simply the beast

For those already familiar with The National’s back catalogue, Sleep Well Beast may prove somewhat of a surprising listen. For the casual fan; don’t go in expecting the accessible alt.rock of Abel, Slow Show or Sea Of Love. There are the subtlest of nods to old songs (a lyrical hint to Val Jester, the glitchy start of Nobody Else Will Be There sounding reminiscent of 29 Years) but this album marks a new direction for them.

The band had said, prior to the record’s release, that this would be their most miserable album yet. Whether wryly joking or not, the comment stands true. Sleep Well Beast is a resolutely melancholy affair and a harder listen as a result.

The National “sound” as it were, has been established over six previous studio albums of deeply clever lyrics paired with multi-layered, instrumental backing, often to subtle, moving effect but sometimes resulting in the positively anthemic. Here however, the album feels almost stripped back in comparison. Matt Berninger’s baritone rarely reaches the extremes of his range the way it does on other work – it’s introverted, subdued and on opener Nobody Else Will Be There strikingly hesitant. There’s very little that’s guitar-driven, relying instead on electronics and strings and, on Walk It Back, a recording of Bush aide Karl Rove’s notorious “Reality-Based Community” speech.

Even lyrically there is less that grabs you at first listen. That’s not to say there aren’t some beautifully crafted lines (“You were always my last second bright spot in the distance”, for example) they just unfurl themselves over multiple listens, and their effect isn’t immediately realised.

What is apparent is the range of emotions these songs cover. There’s the submissive Born To Beg (“I’d cry, crawl, I’d do it all”) the subtly menacing Dark Side Of The Gym (“I’m going to keep you in love with me for a while”) and the monotone aggression of Sleep Well Beast with its repetitive final lines: “I’ll still destroy you someday, sleep well beast. You as well beast.”

Turtleneck, coming half way through the album, is unexpectedly boisterous; its cocky sound and delivery calling to mind Berninger’s side project EL VY. It also wouldn’t be out of place on an earlier National record, like Alligator and though excellent, it makes Sleep Well Beast feel slightly less of a unified whole.

More noticeable than on any of their previous albums is that many of the songs are full of open-ended questions: “You’re in this too, can’t you find a way?” (Empire Line) “You said we’re not so tied together, what did you mean?” (Nobody Else Will Be There) Why are you hiding from me? (The System Only Dreams In Total Darkness) making for an awkward listening experience, as though you’ve interrupted a private conversation, a tense wrestle with personal shortcomings. It’s apt then, that Berninger gives a lyrical nod to writer John Cheever on Carin At The Liquor Store as these songs, much like Cheever’s short stories, pick apart the complexities of relationships, and the general messiness of everyday living.

Their reliance on a more electronic sound works in tandem with the quietly delivered questions to pull you in. They still deliver incredible instrumental accompaniments, that will sound electrifying live, but overall Sleep Well Beast is a more subdued record that shows evidence of their solo side projects having shaped their new direction.

Those who know that a new National album often requires multiple listens to fully grow and reveal its charms and nuances will have their patience rewarded, as this is a beautiful piece of work.