The National

Matt Berninger's brooding repetition of haunting phrases -- "I used to be carried in the arms of cheerleaders" or "This river is full of lost sharks" -- casts a spell. His delivery, not dissimilar to Lloyd Cole's, is satisfyingly unhurried and dry. Trademark slick drumming and smart instrumental cameos are icing on the cake.

"I had a secret meeting in the basement of my brain," mumbles Matt Berninger, and he
spends the rest of this NYC band's third album rummaging among churning grooves and
shambling New Wave rips, turning up depressed guitar poetry that's both elegantly wasted
and kinda murky.