I don’t know what it is with the National and rain. That’s not true … I do. Their self-titled first album had so much water imagery — from Bryan Devendorf in a pool on the cover to the precipitation, moisture, dampness, etc., in the songs — and its continued across their subsequent releases. I don’t know, though, how the songs actually conjure the stuff. On the way to the second night of their Bell House stand on Friday, I had a thought: I remember seeing them once at the old Luxx space after the release of the debut and then later at the Mercury Lounge — once around Sad Songs… and once Alligator — and on all three occasions trying to find an umbrella before heading for the subway. That, and there were other National shows where it was raining and I just went for it without any head cover. It hasn’t always rained when I’ve ventured out to see the band — I don’t think there were any damp sneakers in the Boxer era — but it felt more than fitting trekking to Gowanus and finding High Violet continuing the tradition. It felt like a homecoming.
