I wrote this concert review for a friend, who shared a passion for The National with me, very drunk.

So I promised my good friend Julie that I would write her a review of this concert as soon as possible. I knew I wouldn't capture my enthusiasm after the night of the concert, so I wrote it, quite tipsy, but I love it.  Here it is:

The National.

If it wasn't for this damn vodka in me I'd probably write a better and longer blog.  I thought about trying to write something for Localcut.com but this is almost exclusively for Julie. 

 The National was tonight.  "Alligator" is an album that I will forever associate with Oregon.  It is so fucking good.  And after tonight it has been permanently seared into my mind as one of the best shows I've ever seen. 

 I guess what I'll just do is dictate some of the sloppy notes I took during the show.  Now, let me set the scene.  Berbati's Pan is a place I'd never been to as a show venue.  I got my ticket on Thursday and kept thinking about Saturday night as the night I would finally get to see one of the bands that has moved me the most over the past year or so.  It paid off.

 To begin with, I needed to hang out with Josh.  And he called me back at about 7:30pm, telling me that I needed to go with him to his friend Rob's house for food and drink.  I thought that I would just drink the few Sessions that I had left in my fridge and head over early to make sure that I caught the entirety of The National's set.  Josh convinced me to meet him at his house so that we could bike over to his friend's house on Alberta and 17^th for drinks before I left for the show.  I obliged. 

The ride over was an event in itself.  He thought it was 30^th and Alberta.  No, it was more like 17^th and Alberta.  So we did some extra huffing and puffing, pumping and sweating.  But, alas, we made it and the payoff was glorious.  I had a couple PBRs, a beautiful tequila drink (neat?  I guess that means straight, no ice and no mixer, just tequila with some lime) and some kind of funky Belgian beer that was popped like a bottle of champagne.  I don't know.

 So I leave Josh's friend's house at about 10:30pm so that I could get there for 11.  I got mildly lost and it was a long ride anyway.  I rode down Alberta to N Vancouver, down that for a ways, got lost a little, found my way back onto the Broadway Bridge (thanks to ample signage), and made it to the venue by 10:50 or so. 

 I had a smoke, grabbed a Ketel One on the rocks and positioned myself pretty close to the stage for greatness.  Wow, my writing is sloppy.  The first song was a song that I'd never heard but the lyric I wrote down was: "If you walk away now you're gonna start a war."  Alright, I'm not walking away.  Bring it on.

 They bust into "Secret Meeting" for their first song and, my God, it was so fucking good.  I had listened to "Alligator" so fucking much that I was super-ready for every song on that album.  "Secret Meeting" was precisely the song that I wanted to hear early in the set. 

 Next, "Lit Up."  "Lit Up" was the song that, when I first listened to the album I thought would be my favorite song, the single, and the most memorable.  Wrong.  "Secret Meeting" probably wins that prize.  But how perfect that "Lit Up" follows "Secret Meeting."  I wrote down the lyric "I know you've put in the hours to keep me in sunglasses, I know."  What the fuck does that mean?  I want to know.  Every time I listen to that song I wonder what the fuck he's talking about. 

 Then they played "Geese of Beverly Hill," or something like that.  I only know the title because one of the guitarists said so.  I do, however, recognize the lyrics that move me most.  They are, "We'll run like we're awesome, totally genius."  Wow.  I don't know why that makes so much sense and beauty to me.  Just the use of the phrase awesome in a song in such a way that it doesn't feel trite or inappropriate.  There's also this line, "We'll fight like girls for a spot at the table / a room on the floor."  What?  Who are you?  What could you possibly mean by this?  This band seems so very sensitive and emo in a distinct way.  How could they use the phrase "fight like girls" and get away with it.  They do.  Unexplainable.

 Next they played a song that continued to blow me away.  I wrote down some lyrics.  They are: something about taking "a 45 minute shower / Put on an argyle sweater and put on a smile."  The chorus sings "I'm so sorry for everything."  My God this song is so fucking good.  It has a nice drum beat, a bouncy lead guitar and the presence of the violin player is felt like a ton of bricks.  This violin player could fucking wail.  I wrote down that during this song he managed to play his violin like a guitar; no bow, just strumming.  I was told by some mysterious friends I made whilst smoking before the show that in one of their previous shows they'd caught there was no violinist.  This show's effectiveness hinged on the amazingness of this violin player.  Well done, dude.

 They played a great song I'd never heard next in which a magnificent crescendo was achieved with the help of the violin player.  A whispery lyric was repeated over and over and I knew I wanted to listen to previous records at that point.  But, much to my pleasure, they plowed through an unbelievable versoin of "Abel" next.

 It was just amazing.  It was here that you realized it was just fine with everyone that the lead singer didn't play an instrument.  His scream, strained, emotive and powerful, was particularly important for this version of "Abel."  It was just so fucking good.  There's a screaming/yelling part on the record but until you see him strain and stretch for the best screaming moments, you don't realize how much he puts into each song.  It was brilliant.

 At this point I wrote down "I'm a perfect piece of ass."  This is from a song that I can't remember the title of but I always remember that lyric.  It just seems to go against and yet celebrate everything that I love about The National.  The lyrics, the sound, it's always clever and trendy, yet not over the top, just right.  I can totally imagine that phrase being applicable to many young Portland people but the saying of it in a song is just mind-blowing.  

 My last page begins with "We're out looking for astronauts."  This song is amazing.  It has some very, very compelling lyrics.  The lyric that I wrote down, in big, sloppy script (I'm sure the Ketel One was affecting me at this point), were "You know you've got, a permanent piece, of my medium-sized American heart."  This one blows me away.  First of all, the romanticism is hard to ignore.  Someone having a piece of your heart is almost too cheesy.  But then when he says "my medium-sized American heart" it just seems to make so much sense.  I imagine a heart being ordered at a fast food chain: "I'll take the small heart, please." 

Then I have, "Break your arms around my love, I'm here to take you."  This is from "Daughters of the SoHo Riots."  This is such a heartbreakingly, beautifully slow song.  I always remember that "break my arms" lyrics.  In fact, it sometimes repeats over and over in my head when I'm not listening to music at all, like at work or when I'm just riding around on my bike with no music.  I find it hard to understand.  "Break my arms around my love"?  What is he saying? 

 Lastly, "I used to be, carried in the arms of cheerleaders."  Very, very cramped are the other lyrics on the bottom of my last page: "I won't fuck this over."  They knew every lyric to every song.

 After two vodkas-on-the-rocks I was ready for a cigarette and my voyage home.  I went to the 2^nd and Alder #15 bus stop and dialed TriMet to hear that I wouldn't be getting a 15 home.  I re-organized my shit and got my earbuds in to listen to that Hot Chip record, "The Warning," to get me riding home and now I lay in bed trying to finish up so that I can get to work by 11am tomorrow.  I love you, Julie, and I can't wait to see you in New York.