I’m not lazy, I just procrastinate. A lot. Been told many times by many types of experts that it’s either a) “being on the spectrum” or b) “adhd, here’s some meds.” Whatever is the truth, the first time I heard The National was at a concert.

It wasn’t a surprise gig, I already had my ticket from months ago. Contrary to the idealised version I wrote a few months ago, I went in blank. A friend had shared copies of everything The National had released by 2008, and I was very “I’ll listen to them later” and never making time for them at all.

Suffice to say, I loved them. Brooding, moody, and heartfelt. The National are always an intense show and perhaps I did the right thing by going in without experience or expectations. I’ve seen them a few times afterwards and I don’t believe I’ve ever been disappointed by them.

Boxer is my fave album of theirs, and everyone I know has a different fave album. Shows how expansive the emotions The National blooms are. I listened to Boxer every day in September of 2008, while adjusting to life in Sheffield. I heard other bands too, but Boxer had to be played every day. Because it gave me reassurance. I’m a fidgety person, drowning in anxiety at the most minimum inconvenience. Ignatius J. Reilly had his valve to worry about, I had Boxer.

From the imperative drumming of Squalor Victoria to the end-of-tour break-up hostility of Start a War, Boxer has range. The wide palette The National uses is a contrast to the stark black and white album artwork, one I tried to recreate many times while taking photos of bands in Sheffield while I lived there. The one time I might’ve managed was when The Payroll Union and their banjo player parted ways after a small gig in a pub near Broadfield.

My addiction to Boxer has receded, but the watermark is there, forever. Fake Empire is one heckuva album opener. Dreamy at first, landing face first to our regret, since it’s a piece about self-assessment more than an attack to someone else. We might spike our lemonade in thousands of ways, the day after we still get a hangover. And it gets worst with age.

-Sam J. Valdés López