The National

Let’s just get this out of the way: The National’s Boxer does not rock. Unlike Alligator or Sad Songs for Dirty Lovers, the “single options” are few (“Fake Empire,” “Mistaken for Strangers”). Instead, the album is a surprisingly cohesive introspection (if it’s fictional, honestly, I don’t want to know) that forsakes rockers for languid, nap-time offerings. Shooting their more up-tempo wad in the first four tracks, the National goes for more of the warm bath effect—Matt Berninger’s vocals taking a mumbled, relaxed and just-awakened turn (“Slow Show”) away from the greater enunciation of albums prior, while the instrumentation verges on lullaby orchestration at times. But, the National’s forte for much of their career has been their honest—sometimes heartbreakingly tender, sometimes flat-out brutal—lyrics, and Boxer doesn’t disappoint in that arena. The National still offers a wincing slap in the middle of a love song (“Gospel”) and deftly portrays the realistic turmoil of simply knowing someone (“Racing Like a Pro”). In fact, those darker, when-no-one’s-looking moments of a relationship is what Boxer truly reeks of. It’s an effort that musically goes fewer places and is far less show-off than behind closed doors. Truth be told, that even-keeled lack of balls-out will dissuade some old fans, but for those willing to spend time with it, Boxer replaces that initial curse of “boring” with “mellow, slow and steady.”