national anthem of nowhere.

It's about damn time. A foreign band finally came t'town on Friday. The National. From Brooklyn. It was very, very righteous. And for the first time in a long time, drinking beer and watching a band, there was a sense of normalcy stewing about. Anyway.

I've got a job writing for an English magazine and another newspaper here. I decided t'just paste the story I gave them on The National gig. It's more or less what I would've written here anyway. But the magazine has word limits. That'll take some gettin' used to. If anyone hasn't checked out The National yet, I suggest you do so sooner rather than tomorrow. In a few weeks they'll be topping critics "Best of 2007" list, so I'd strike while the iron's hot. Plus, no one wants t'hop on a trend afterwards. I wish the Turks new that. They're still wearing Ugz boots and carring Tickle Me Elmo. Anyway. Hope you dig---

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Whenever you travel anywhere, be it across the Old World or across the Bosporus on a Dolmus you’ve got to refrain from searching for a sense of being or a sense of where you are. If anything, you’ll realize how late you might be. But if you do give in you’ll find that you’re doing something. And for that moment, that’s all you can do. And in a sense, that’s all you should be doing.

This is probable true for moody Brooklyn rockers “The National”. For them the next gig is always the most important one. Looking back is always fun for a laugh, but as guitarist Aaron Dessner confessed to me from a stop in Copenhagen, the road “Seems to stifle creativity.” If that’s the case then the destination becomes paramount when touring. They make plans and follow through with them. Bearing that in mind, it’s easy to understand why there was a palpable buzz surrounding Babylon on Friday, December 7th a few hours before their debut in Istanbul.

Dessner confessed that “No one wants to hear songs about a band being drunk of a bus in the middle of Europe. We feel like our creativity suffers on the road. With an itinerary, your grasp on what’s important begins to slip. But that being said I think the more touring we do, the better we become as a band.”

I didn’t think to ask him then what’s really important for a touring band. My guess would be that it’s the hopeful looks of the few fans waiting outside Babylon more than a few hours before the gig.

If The National encountered any bit of the traffic that I did coming into Beyoglu, it promised to be a bit of an urgent gig. I jumped out of my Dolmus like jack in the box who’d drank a little too much on the Asian side of the city.

Following a string of critically acclaimed releases on UK indie label Beggars Banquet, the optimistically melancholic sound of these five friends has been lumped in with various other indie heroes. Each album gives a nod to Nick Cave and the Catherine Wheel. If anything sets them apart, it’s the unassuming manner in which they continue to conduct themselves. Their tunes have been featured on prime time American television and mainstream success seems to be within reach for The National. But as Dessner put it, “We don’t write frilly songs for the sake of frills.” It’s as if their attention is better focused elsewhere be it the gig in front of them or getting drunk on that bus, wherever it is.

The National didn’t appear to be bursting with creativity as they sauntered on stage, nearly an hour late. They were victims of life on the road. The Babylon show was their 33rd show in 38 days? It was up to the eager and loyal fans swelling at Babylon to provide the only cure they could.

They opened with “Start A War”, an acoustically driven debate from “Boxer”, their latest and most relaxed full length. “Walk away now, and you’re gonna start a war” vocalist Matt Berringer told us. But the fans were screaming; “Don’t even think of walking away”. And this was only the first song.
While the décor is intriguing, the stage at Babylon is a small one. The National worked to make the most of it, regularly trading instruments. There were even points when touring violinist Padma Newsome stole center stage from Derringer, adding fury and harmony. With such fervor, I don’t know how he didn’t break each and every one of his strings.

If nothing else, the band is consistent. When describing the recording of “Boxer”, Dessner told me that they “Like to keep things fair. Every instrument gets its due.”

As “Boxer” will be one of those albums that keeps fans and critics alike talking, I wondered how that urgently patient sound came to fruition. Dessner claimed that he had a soft spot for the ugly duckling under a rock. Which is true. If you blinked at the gig, you likely would have missed something. A bit of a visual overload, with a soundtrack to boot.

And again, the band wore their consistency on their sleeves. With many of the tunes, including fan favourite “Mr. November”, the band ran through the song’s circular patterns with relative ease. It struck me as a bit lackluster.

I forgot that any and all judgment in rock and roll ought to be reserved until after the gig. When the final chorus of “Mr. November” broke, the band finally overpowered the audience. There was nothing dynamic about what they were doing; it was simply frantic rock and roll. I looked around me and saw many a smoke dangling out of many an open mouth.

On the morning of the show, and I was left without a ticket into the gig. I was pacing around the city with little to no regard. When I spoke to Aaron, it was hard to come across as an unbiased journalist. (Or even any kind of journalist) After all, I’d gladly be lumped in with those “Loyal fans”. I remember finding their previous album “Alligator” in the “B” section of a record store in Poland. I listened to it three times over in the shop and nearly missed work that day. Their tunes are strangely compelling; as their records move from track to track you find that the record has swallowed you whole. After listening to “Boxer”, you’re left wondering if you even feel like digging yourself out of the hole that’s been dug.

I couldn’t keep struggling with the thought that I wouldn’t be inside that night, so I decided to let the band know about my condition. It wasn’t long before I heard back from them. A journalist or not, I was still a fan. And they knew that. I’d like to think they wanted me there too, to forge a new connection. Though I was admitted into the show on only a few hours notice, I was still no better or worse than anyone else in the room. I had to do my part just as everyone else would.

“A good show grows” Aaron told me very matter of fact. Sometime during the encore, vocalist Matt Berringer hopped into the crowd to sing a few verses. Realizing he couldn’t get a word in edgewise, he took to a lectern stage left; a good five feet above the crowd to escape the intensity the crowd had created and shout back at them.

Sensing a bit of timing and occasion, nearly everyone in the front begged the band to play “Karen”, a tune Berringer claimed to be “Too painful to play. Not emotionally of course. It’d just be painful for you guys to hear.” But the front row was relentless. They drew smiles from most of the band. Derringer offered a mild “You guys are very commandeering. I like it.” This only added fuel to a growing fire. It was a growing show.

I forgot I had to take notes on the show until a mass sing-a-long commenced some point early on in the set. It dawned on me then that this night had become something more than another Friday night on the piss for the kids. Certain dates have a way of becoming an indelible fixture on your subconscious. The fans in front likely won’t have parties to celebrate the anniversary of the gig every 7th of December from here on in. But a few years from now they’ll likely remember the exchange of faith, goodwill, cigarettes, alcohol, tunes and atmosphere that went down at the Babylon.

Maybe they’ll throw on “Boxer” and dig themselves a hole, searching for their memories at the bottom somewhere. But The National will likely still be on the road somewhere. And hopefully both parties will stop and remember that the only way to dig themselves out is to move up and move forward. And I’m sure that’ll mean another visit to Istanbul from the band sometime soon.

You should never stop and take stock, sure. But you should always question your motives, just because. As the show was drawing to a close, Berringer told the crowd that the band had the next 24 hours in Istanbul to do as they pleased. “What should we do in Istanbul?” he asked us. More cheers and various suggestions. But really, what should any of us do?

Vocalist Matt Berringer.