Albums Of The Decade: #3 – Boxer

by Rick on December 10th, 2009

The National has a track record of releasing albums that critics refer to as growers. These albums are often the most touching, as an idea that reveals itself slowly has the advantage of engaging a listener for a longer period of time. These albums are proof of how much more effective it is to force a listener to discern an idea rather than simply stating it for his convenience. Appreciation is not knowledge, but rather it is understanding. When the profound concept buried within Boxer gradually exposed itself in 2007, critics and fans alike found something they could forever embrace.

One may wonder why Boxer is a grower, and this is probably the most important question to ask in order to understand why it is one of the best albums of the decade. The truth is, there are many reasons why the fourth full-length released by Berninger and company cannot be fully appreciated upon first encounter. The cryptic and impressive lyrics immediately come to mind, or maybe you attribute the vast depth to the idiosyncrasies in Berninger’s distinctive warble. These qualities only scrape the surface of how Boxer can pull its listeners in deeper and deeper with every spin, submerging us entirely into the very best of what rock music has to offer.

Boxer becomes realer every day as we slowly but surely slip into the stumbling haze of professionalism. We sell ourselves short with every step we take, every stoplight we encounter, and every dream we forget we had. Each bottle at my bedside is another time I can live in the past, and as I “take another sip of them, it floats around and takes me over like a little drop of ink in a glass of water”. But let’s not try and figure out everything at once, we tell ourselves. Let’s do whatever the TV tells us, as everything we love gets lost in drawers. Boxer is about neglecting our dreams and deceiving ourselves into thinking our “beloved white shirts” and “diamond slippers” are providing happiness. Though this idea is not a new discovery, perhaps it has never been as true and as evident as it is presently.

Berninger ties the idea of disenchantment in with capitalism with remarkable precision, and for this reason the release of Boxer boasted the element of timeliness. It was 2007, people were losing their jobs, gas prices were hiking, awareness of the financial crisis was rapidly increasing, the world was simply ready to hate money. The Dessner brothers offer complementary guitars, pushing and pulling on your cluttered mind, and Berninger bolsters this omnipresent tug-of-war with his instantly recognizable baritone. You can almost smell the liquor on his breath as he sarcastically raises his “heavenly glasses to the heavens”, and you can feel the desperation as they “throw money at each other and cry” or when he promises to “get money and get funny again”. The lies we tell ourselves every day are both shocking and depressing, and The National capture this dismal feeling with unwavering precision.

Boxer isn’t your typical indie record, and the way it avoids hipster-approved tactics largely contributes to its beauty. No meaningless quirk, no novel release methods, no danceable numbers, no gimmicks whatsoever. The only thing The National is catering to is a stunningly insightful concept, and any deviation from straight up rock on this record is purposeful and fitting. Prominent drums pound at your wandering mind like a heartbeat you sometimes forget you have, and you stagger through gloomy streets lit only by charming piano lines. Every car passing by is another blue-blazered sap looking for complacency, and as it passes out of earshot, a melancholic mutter of discontent is heard. From horn sections to the dual guitars, everything is accompanying that disenchanted vibe, that feeling that everyone has settled for less than they wanted. Boxer is proof of how much more effective it can be to take inspiration from your own imagination rather than from nouveau musical trends.

It appears that simply calling this album a grower is selling it short. This album doesn’t just resonate more with its listener upon every spin. It grows on us every time a friend loses his job, every time we settle for mediocrity, every time we put a little something in our lemonade, every time we work hard at something we couldn’t care less about, and every time we remember the dreams we used to have. We are getting tied and forgetting why. We are half awake in a fake empire. We are not growing accustomed to Boxer, we are becoming it.

Rick Southwick

Honorable Mentions (Part 1)
Honorable Mentions (Part 2)
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