Live Review: The National, Luluc

The National

The grass is soft and the sounds are subdued with Luluc soundtracking plenty of laybacks as dusk does its thing. The former Melbourne pair, who now reside in Brooklyn, are delightful, if fairly vanilla, though banter about supermarket guitars and the occasional bit of abrasion from Steve Hassett gets your attention.

We then follow the backstage footage as indie-rock heroes The National emerge in extended septet form, the regular five-piece filled out by a two-man brass section to make the grandest of indie bands sound even grander. Frontman Matt Berninger is designed to sweat in a sharp three-piece suit, however, the Dressner and Devendorf sibling bonds are broken with bassist Scott Devendorf back in New York looking after his newborn. The band doesn't miss a beat though, with stand-in Logan Cole zeroing down on the bottom-end with the focus of a hawk, allowing the Ohio sons to take us on a journey through the most intense and refrained moments from their past decade of songs.

Moving beneath crisscrossing lights and a giant video screen, The National give us so many pinnacles. Mistaken For Strangers is propelled with an urgency that you can't shake, Sea Of Love spills over into a rousing, harmonious climax, while Conversation 16 practically demands that we admit to our sinful ways with the howling refrain of “I'm evil”. Berninger is as intense as ever, stalking the stage like he's just committed a crime, but the focal point in the group's sound really comes from drummer Bryan Devendorf, who, despite looking like 30 Rock's Judah Friedlander in a pink trucker cap, manages to carry the night's momentum with workhorse-like intent. Later in the set during Graceless, the band show their human side, completely stopping the song to start again after some comical microphone issues, but otherwise the main set is immaculate.

Even after two hours though, there are still boxes to tick, and the band don't disappoint, roaring through an encore that features Berninger getting manhandled (and misdirected) in the crowd as he exorcises political demons with Mr November, which is followed by the customary closing triumph that is Terrible Love. But then, just when we are all expecting the band to walk off to the sides, they instead move closer, huddling at the front of the stage, ditching any form of amplification to lead a torch-light singalong of Vanderlyle Crybaby Geeks. To turn a space as vast as the Riverstage into a campfire for thousands is an impossible feat, but The National have long been a band that have defied expectation, the final stand tonight making us feel alive in the most communal of ways.