Rylan

"Rylan" is one of The National's most beloved deep cuts, a song that circulated live for nearly a decade before finally appearing on a studio album, building near-mythic anticipation among fans. Built on a propulsive, almost galloping rhythm that's brighter and more urgent than the band's usual funereal pace, it pairs that momentum with Matt Berninger's characteristic baritone murmur — a voice that always sounds like it's confessing something it can't quite name. The lyrics address a "Rylan," seemingly a young person adrift, the narrator offering a mix of warning, recognition, and weary tenderness about being too sensitive for the world. There's that quintessential Berninger move of pairing surreal, oblique imagery with gut-level emotional precision. The Dessner brothers' interlocking guitars shimmer and accumulate, and Bryan Devendorf's drumming carries the track's restless energy. The song reads as an adult speaking to a younger self, or to anyone who feels the texture of life too acutely. Its long gestation makes the recorded version feel almost relieved to exist. Best heard late at night through headphones during a stretch of self-doubt, when its blend of anxiety and reassurance — you're not broken, just porous — feels less like a song than a hand on the shoulder.