Matt Berninger, the baritone-voiced lead singer of the National, is sitting at a Brooklyn restaurant explaining the excitement the band felt as their fifth album, "High Violet," was coming together. It even made them feel like high-fiving, Berninger says. Guitarist Bryce Dessner, smiling beside him, quickly clarifies: "We never high-five." The National have never been known for ostentatious displays of exuberance. Instead, in the roughly 10 years they've been together, the band has steadily built a following with moody, romantic ballads punctuated by cathartic rock anthems. A National song typically feels hard-earned, deliberate and sturdy: a ball of tension loosened by Berninger's low murmurs and Bryan Devendorf's cymbals. On "High Violet," Dessner and his twin brother, Aaron — both classically trained guitarists — traded their precise finger-picking for a larger, atmospheric sound — a switch intended to get the band out of its habits. The effect isn't radically different from previous National albums, but the disc swells with ambition. It sounds fully formed because it is, having been intensely wrestled over for more than a year at the band's studio in Ditmas Park in Brooklyn — where most of the group lives. Early on in making the album, Berninger says, they decided to "go for it." "We know that being in a band, you have a very rare and short time frame where you can do anything," says Berninger, who on this day has "BIKE" written on the palm of his hand, a reminder to pick up his bicycle, newly outfitted with a seat for the young child he has with his wife. "It just seems like that unless you're one of a handful — like five bands: U2, Radiohead, R.E.M. — there are just a few that can survive and make 10 records," he adds. "We want to be there and we know how easily it can go away." One of those bands, R.E.M., has been an ardent supporter of the National. The National opened for them on a 2008 tour and Michael Stipe has been vocal about his love of the band since he discovered them on La Blogotheque, a website that videotapes bands playing in unusual environments. Bryce recalls Stipe telling them: "Just write a pop song" — a message he says they "took to heart only a little bit," partly out of confusion over how to create such a thing. "In a way, seeing them sort of gave us the confidence to go ahead and go for a huge record," says Berninger. "Don't be embarrassed by sincerity, don't be embarrassed by sadness or epic string sections … don't worry about being cool." The five members of the National, which also includes bassist Scott Devendorf (Bryan's brother), are all transplants from Cincinnati that collectively began playing in Brooklyn. It was initially a hobby, but Berninger recalls things changing once it became obsessive, "chasing something that was more important than anything else." "It was a long and slow chase," he adds. After two albums released by themselves, the band began finding itself. They whittled away any alt-country influences and Berninger embraced his limited range as a singer. Their 2004 EP "Cherry Tree" persuaded Roger Trust to sign them to Beggars Banquet Records. That was the turning point that led to their 2005 breakout, "Alligator," which has sold 77,000 copies according to Nielsen SoundScan and landed on some critics' top-10 lists (including The Associated Press'). Their 2007 follow-up, "Boxer," sold 183,000 copies. The band has taken to attributing their growth to a "back-alley whisper." The noise has gotten substantially louder and anticipation for "High Violet" has run high. They were profiled in the New York Times magazine and documentary filmmaker D. A. Pennebaker ("Monterey Pop") has been following them. And reviews have been good. "This record feels like the first time there's a lot of attention on us. 'Boxer' had some, but this time it feels like a lot — which is a nice feeling," says Berninger. "We're like, 'Finally.' It feels good." It was internal pressure, though, that made "High Violet" their "most labored over record," according to Bryce. Typically, Aaron will draft a song that the group will collectively work on if Berninger is inspired to write lyrics to it. It's often subtle distinctions that make a National song stand out. The stately album-closer "Vanderlyle Crybaby Geeks" moves slowly with drawn-out strings, similar to how horns quietly pace "Runaway." "Lemonworld" went through countless revisions before they returned to the original sketch, after all. The band — all in their mid- to late 30s — is already on the road for "High Violet," which entered the Billboard 200 album chart this week at number 3. They headlined a packed Royal Albert Hall in London, and sold-out a June gig at New York's Radio City Musical Hall. In concert, the National give a window into their intensity. While the band hums without error, Berninger squints his eyes shut, clutching the microphone with two hands. Songs like the crowd-favorite "Mr. November" provide a release. Bryce says it's best "messy": "Terrible things happen in that song, including Matt falling off the stage." "My defense mechanism of the embarrassment and the anxiety of being in front of a bunch of strangers is to just forget about that and think about the songs and lose myself in the songs," says Berninger. "The wine helps me get there."
