Reading about Australian work holiday visas,
sorting cue cards into personal value piles, learning that all art in the ’80s was either about AIDS or Reagan: These are some of the things that I’ve been doing while putting off writing about The National’s third album and debut-by-proxy “Alligator.”
It’s been a few weeks now.
So, why the waiting? Certainly “Alligator” is a very good album. It’s the one that introduced many of us to The National in the first place. It’s the one with the sharp, offbeat songs, the tunes that ranged from the Arcade Fire-size stadium-ready “Lit Up” to the Magnetic Fields-inspired “Looking for Astronauts.” It should be worthy of praise eight years later, right?
But, while there’s a lot to like on “Alligator,” that’s where it ends. You don’t go to Australia for like, you don’t reevaluate the role of “valor” in your life for like, you don’t pass off pictures of other art as art for like.
I like “Alligator,” but I’m not in love with it.
But, should I need to be in love with “Alligator?” Isn’t it enough that it’s a very good album by a very good band. That depends. You’ve likely faced this same issue with another album at some point. For me, in this case, it’s a matter of my expectations.
I found this album during a tumultuous point in my college life, and like my “4 Years Gone” piece on Bon Iver’s “For Emma, Forever Ago,” I expected “Alligator” to coax out many of the same unpleasant ghosts, to hold many of the same spectres. I was nervous. I tried picking a Blink-182 album. The publishers refused.
Four or five listens in, I am surprised and disappointed… I have cake and cookies ready for the scary past-ghost party, but none arrive. I’m anxious, I’m thinking about the invitations… Did they get lost in translation with my subconscious?
Surely, the songs on “Alligator” should be just as capable of holding emotion as “For Emma?” The songs are well-constructed? They’re emotional… right?
Sixth listen, seventh listen. I am puzzled, licking frosting in the confusion and lack of ectoplasm… Eighth listen, ninth listen… I am alone with a bunch of great songs, but nothing in the room is communicating with me. What does this mean? What would Christina Ricci do?
I’ve tried to get around it. But, there’s something lacking. Granted, this might be a very subjective point, but I think the issue with “Alligator,” and the reason it isn’t an essential listen, lies with the subtle disconnect between singer Matt Berninger and the band. This missing connection with the great-beyond that great music can provide.
“I got two sets of headphones, I miss you like hell;” “I’m a birthday candle in a circle of black girls;” “God is on my side, I’m the child bride.”
Yes, the composition is great, the juxtaposition between the instrumentation and Berninger’s voice is well-done and the lyrics are unique, but there’s something lacking I can’t explain.
“Alligator” is a very good album by a very good band with popular appeal, but eight years later, it can’t seem to cross the threshold to the present. It’s not grabbing me like Patrick Swayze around the hips until my pottery comes apart. And goddammit if I should settle for anything less.
Verdict:
Very good album, but non-essential.
Pete Rizzo can be reached at prizzo@thoughtpollution.com.