Something strange happens when you listen to the work of a group that has enough talent to always do something interesting, but has created something that doesn’t live up to what we know he is capable. We cannot then say that the album is a failure. Far from there. It does not lack potential, frankly convinces us at certain times, and listening is often pleasant. But it doesn’t make us feel anything special either. Especially when you know what The National is capable of.
Well executed in every way, this surprise album begins in a rather dull manner. Matt Berninger’s lyrics, however, are made of fabulous poetry throughout, as he describes his nostalgia, his melancholy, his desire for love and his inner struggles.
One of the most interesting things about this disc, however, is the way in which it was created, either as a complement to the very beautiful Two Pages of Frankestein, in a more impromptu way (Smoke Detector, a brilliant eight-minute finale, was for example recorded during a soundcheck) and perfected live during concerts.
The accumulated talent of Justin Vernon (Bon Iver) and Matt Berninger’s gang has incredible potential. The piece Weird Goodbyes, at the start of the album, is however a demonstration of what we described above: it is neither bad nor particularly convincing.
Another of the guests on the record, Phoebe Bridgers, on the title track of the album, provides a particularly pleasant moment. The piano melody and insistent percussion form a beautiful backdrop for the voices of Bridgers and Berninger, both equally melancholic, to link together beautifully.
The seven-minute track Space Invader takes a captivating direction in its second half. Hornets, which recalls the sound of Big Red Time Machine (Aaron Dessner and Justin Vernon’s band), is also magnificent.
The second part of Laugh Track is in fact his best, boldly paced by Bryan Devendorf, back in force after being behind a drumpad on the previous album, sung with attractive enthusiasm by Matt Berninger.
The National, in the very specific framework that we know and which suits it well, often knows how to offer captivating ways of making melancholy music. Melancholy is indeed omnipresent on Laugh Track, but the group does not completely succeed in captivating us this time.
