The National

Baby Dayliner

Troubadour - October 9, 2006

Live Review by Kate Guillemette

When I went to see The National and Baby Dayliner at The Troubadour, I had also really wanted to see The Mobius Band—but traffic, construction, and bad directions made that not happen.

I had been anxious to see Baby Dayliner since his album Critics Pass Away came out on Brassland this past spring.  Anxious in the sense that I really wanted to hear the songs live, but also anxious about whether or not the whole situation would be altogether too ridiculously kitschy to be enjoyed, as the Baby Dayliner live act is a guy singing along to recordings of his disco-danceable synth-heavy torch songs coming out of a 1970s-styled suitcase.  Happily, I needn’t have worried; Mr. Dayliner (a.k.a. Ethan Marunas) is entirely serious and unpretentious, and it seemed that a gratifying percentage of the crowd was as charmed as I was.  Today’s lounge singer (especially today’s young and male lounge singer) faces somewhat limited opportunities for career placement outside Las Vegas or hotel bars, and I’m glad that there’s still room on the club circuit for wacky stuff like this.

Somehow I had completely missed out on The National over the years, even though I’m quite fond of the eclectically string-wrangling project Clogs, which features The National’s Bryce Dessner (guitar) and Padma Newsome (violin).  Anyway, now I’m all sorry, because the set Monday night was genuinely moving.

Piracy has been seriously overexposed of late, in both the mainstream (of the Caribbean) and “indie” (The Decemberists) arenas, but Newsome on violin and keys is the real deal—and quite a scene-stealer.  All he needs are knee pants, a stripy shirt, and an eyepatch, and he and his particular brand of rapier-like violin flourishes could swashbuckle up and down the Spanish Main.

Singer Matt Berninger does his flamboyant frontman thing, but in spite of all the press proclaiming him the most important part of the band, he also acts like he knows that his surly / sad contribution is one more instrument in the mix.  And that mix is good, between the two Dessner brothers on guitar, the two Devendorf brothers covering the rhythm, and Newsome hoisting the proverbial mainsail.  Put together, their material, built around subtle variations on an essentially straightforward rock structure, has the simple gravity of ringing a very large bell in a big empty American state park-type natural space.  It was good for the soul.

A lady standing somewhere behind me kept yelling out “AVAILABLE” between songs, occasionally adding a muttered “you bastards.”  I don’t think she was requesting an obscure b-side.