The National strikes me as a fairly mellow band, thanks to Matt Berninger’s laid-back baritone, though even on the mellowest of their tunes the drummer Bryan Devendorf provide deceptively peppy beats. On this one, he positively drives the band to a rare moment of outright uplift — and coming at the end of a 13 mid-to-down-tempo dirges, it just seems to catapult the mood.
I don’t know if this will strike the same way to female listeners, but from a man’s point of view, the self-assuring chant of “I used to be carried in the arms of cheerleaders” come straight out of some low-teen fantasy. Stated without a hint of self-consciousness or embarrassment, it just plows over whatever self-restraint I may be feeling. This is a soundtrack of a man who’s psyching himself up to take a stand, to finally become what he always meant to be. And to get to that point, indeed we have to sound a bit megalomaniac and self-indulgent inside.
And it’s OK if that’s what it takes. It’s better to talk silly in your head and be a man, than show up to be less than who you are.
This is nothing like it was in my room
In my best clothes
Trying to think of youThe English are coming
And I don’t know what to do
In my best clothes
This is when I need youI’m the new blue blood
I’m the great white hope
I’m the new blue bloodI won’t fuck us over
I’m Mr. November
I’m Mr. November
I won’t fuck us over