The National – Laugh Track

Indie Rock

91%

 

I’m someone who likes to view albums as their own distinct era. A self-contained story told from start to finish, enjoying its time in the spotlight before the artist inevitably moves on to tell a new story. Occasionally though, an artist may decide than an era spans more than one record, that the story needs a sequel. Like most sequels however, they tend to perpetually live in the shadow of the original. These kind of companion albums often feel like a collection of off-cuts and b sides, re-treading a trail that has already been blazed. These are your Amnesiacs and your evermores; not bad records by any means, but they sadly make a mere fraction of the impact of their predecessors and have little identity of their own. 

Anyone caught off-guard by The National’s surprise release of Laugh Track, mere months after its sister record First Two Pages of Frankenstein, would be forgiven for being wary of this new record following the same pattern. Especially given that Frankenstein was a very safe by-the-numbers affair to begin with, leaving little appetite for a second helping of more of the same. Yet this record bucks the trend in more ways than one. Not only is this companion piece the rare kind of sequel that far outshines the original, but when contrasting the two they have vastly different approaches and identities. Where Frankenstein felt like it was condensing the band’s sound into its most basic essentials, Laugh Track instead feels like a whistle stop tour of all the branching paths their sound has explored over the years. 

The most exciting consequence of this, is that after several records focused on sedate balladry and electronic beats, Bryan Devendorf has finally been unleashed on the drums. Hearing him let loose on the kit on ‘Deep End (Paul’s In Pieces)’ put such a smile on my face, and whisked me back to those halcyon Trouble Will Find Me days. It’s the most vibrant and immediate that the band have sounded for some time. It makes you wonder why his brilliance was ever side-lined to begin with, as his playing brings so much expression even to the album’s gentler fare. The towering drum work on ‘Dreaming’ if anything elevates the blissful expanse around it rather than distract from it, adding a triumphant and hopeful tone to the whole affair. 

Almost everywhere you turn the band feel energised on this record, dusting off the cobwebs and letting the muscle memory kick in. The aforementioned ‘Deep End’ also boasts some of Matt Berninger’s most striking lines for a hot minute (“I can’t stop myself from thinking about you all the time, I’m always trying to tune you out but I’m gonna let you in tonight“), and the once standalone single ‘Weird Goodbyes’ finally has a place to call home. It’s a track that’s grown on me tremendously, and feels all the more potent in the context of the album. The chorus especially shines as one of the band’s finest, conjuring some of their most vivid imagery and relatable storytelling. Meanwhile ‘Turn Off The House’ opens with a haunting fingerpicked folk sound, and only becomes more affecting thanks to its dazzlingly delicate and expressive bass lines calling out from behind the increasingly frenetic percussion.

You can hear the band’s rejuvenation on both a micro and macro scale, in both sublime subtle nuances and grand sweeping gestures. You have the quietly chaotic brass adding texture to the title track, while the soaring centrepiece ‘Space Invader’ towers over it right next door. The sheer brilliance of the latter is impossible to understate, truly the band at their best. Like ‘Guilty Party’ turned up to 11, its swirling symphony of wistful what ifs becomes a cathartic cascade of earth-shaking proportions, tearing down the whole world around you if it meant a second chance at the life you could have had. Naturally that’s a hard act to follow, and the album loses a bit of steam in the latter half of the track list, but the band pull it back together for more fantastic light and shade in the final two tracks. The Americana tinged ‘Crumble’ has a whole labyrinth of intricate and understated guitar work providing a backdrop for its harmonies, while snaking post punk epic ‘Smoke Detector’ channels the rawness of their early records through more experienced hands, its demented stream-of-consciousness devolving into a feral foray of duelling guitars.

This is a story that was worth telling. It’s a fantastic return to form, easily The National’s best body of work since 2017’s Sleep Well Beast. There’s so much life to this record, a welcome if unexpected burst of energy – both musically and in terms of broader creativity. For all those who have recently discovered the band through other projects, make no mistake, this is The National that we all know and love.