Review: THE NATIONAL, All Points East

In their first UK festival performance since before the pandemic, American soft rock quintet The National have shown themselves to be capable of a competent return to form.

Their particular brand of soaring choruses and stomping refrains is reminiscent of a brooding film soundtrack, and is a perfect fit for the atmospheric twilight surrounds of East London's Victoria Park.

The National have a knack for never letting the theatricality of a live performance undermine the music itself. Raspy-voiced frontman Matt Berninger performs simple choreography (which sometimes borders on the awkward and overly literal, such as his zombie-like movement to the lyric "I am invisible and weightless" in "Graceless") that never takes away from his vocal performance, which is unafraid to add additional flourishes to the songs' recorded versions.

Guitarists and brothers Aaron and Bryce Dessner tend to shy away from imposing on Berninger's spotlight and instead provide a constant, surging musical backdrop; Aaron Dessner also has the opportunity, on ballads "Light Years" and "Pink Rabbits", to demonstrate his keyboard skills in several haunting solos, which will remind audiences of his work as a musician and producer on Taylor Swift's "folklore" and "evermore" albums. Touring trombonist Ben Lanz's solos add a regal feel to tracks such as "England", which again does not feature on the record.

What they perhaps lack in theatricality is made up for by a crowd that has clearly waited a long time to see The National live. The band often affords the audience the chance to sing portions of their discography, which is filled with memorable and repetitive lyrics that lend themselves well to mass chanting, and this is particularly cathartic on "England", a song containing the line "You must be somewhere in London / You must be loving your life in the rain".

Given the audience's enthusiasm, however, The National's minimal crowd interactions feel like a missed opportunity. Berninger's occasional excursions into the crowd are thrilling but only start happening over halfway through the set, when it feels as though the momentum has already been lost.

Similarly, though the band's usual set list is interrupted by duets with Fleet Foxes frontman Robin Pecknold and Eve Owen, a dungaree-clad newcomer with a unique, enigmatic voice, these guest performers are not properly introduced, and feel sidelined to the extent that I find myself needing to Google exactly who the guests were before writing this review. Indeed, this is symptomatic of a wider issue in which, aside from a few brief anecdotes about 'fake news' and his parents' wedding anniversary, Berninger never really addresses the crowd between songs.

The cinematic feel of The National's music can occasionally veer into repetitive territory, and this show does not do much to remedy that, either with spoken interludes or variation in production values. With the exception of a striking geometric design for arena anthem "This Is The Last Time", and a bizarrely literal red blood cell-inspired motif for "Bloodbuzz Ohio", the show does not take advantage of the considerable visual resources - three large projectors, and blinding LED rods surrounding the band - at its disposal, resorting instead to frantic projections of the band mid-performance that frustratingly never focus on any one member for long enough that a fan standing far from the stage could follow that member's whereabouts.

The National have, for better or for worse, allowed their music to speak for itself. To someone less familiar with that music, this approach fails to garner continued interest throughout the 90-minute set, since their catalogue lacks the inherent variety in order to justify such a one-note performance. However, a set without any bells and whistles does allow the music to be enjoyed as is, and this seems to be enough to please The National's legion of patient fans.

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