As one might imagine, the brothers Dessner have been collaborating musically since long before the National—indeed, for most
of their lives. They grew up just outside of Cincinnati, where their
father, a jazz drummer, turned them on to his extensive collection
of records by jazz greats from all eras, as well as classic singer-songwriters like Leonard Cohen and Bob Dylan.
“I think our creativity has a lot to do with being stranded out in
the woods in this rural suburb of a provincial city, just the two of us
down in the basement for 18 years, listening to our dad’s records,”
Aaron explains. “At some point, we introduced instruments into
that equation and it was very easy for us to just ignore everything
else and play. As twins we were very productive together, because we
never had to teach each other things. Almost immediately, when we
started playing guitar, we were writing songs and bouncing things
off each other, and we rapidly became agile on the instrument.”
Blending Bluegrass, Classical, and Punk
Outside of their basement, the twins were exposed to regional
music. Being near the Ohio River, to say nothing of summer camp
in the North Carolina mountains, they absorbed plenty of country strains that would later manifest themselves in early National
records. “We became influenced by bluegrass,” Aaron admits. “We
had a banjo around the house, and I also played a mandolin and
a tenor mandola.” Aaron also played the upright bass—and he’s
played it on every National record except High Violet. But those
influences were counterbalanced by several others, including those
Bryce picked up while earning a master’s degree in classical guitar
performance from Yale University, and the ideas Aaron absorbed
“I think our creativity has a
lot to do with being stranded
out in the woods in this rural
suburb of a provincial city,
just the two of us down in the
basement for 18 years, lis-
tening to our dad’s records.”
—Aaron Dessner
while studying modern European history and cultural anthropology at Columbia University.
“I’m the only conservatory geek in the band,” says Bryce, who
studied under the direction of Benjamin Verdery. An uncommonly
forward-thinking classical guitarist and composer, Verdery would
have a lasting technical and conceptual influence on Bryce and
his work with the National. “In those kinds of classical environ-
ments—which are so based on pedagogy and the hierarchy of the
institution—there is a bit of an ivory-tower feeling where you’re
trying to live up to some archaic standard of the solo virtuoso
Segovia. Ben is the exception to that rule, and I was lucky to have
him as a mentor. He’s not only the best classical guitarist and teach-
er out there, but he’s also a great rock player. He introduced me
to all kinds of repertoire, from Bach to contemporary, and pushed
me to be very open-minded about what I wanted to do. And Ben’s
been a huge and supportive fan of the National.”
At Yale, Bryce also studied composition with Evan Ziporyn, a
prominent modern composer and clarinetist whose work incorpo-
rates many different idioms, from traditional Balinese to avant-garde
jazz. At the same time, Bryce met 20th-century iconoclasts like the
minimalist composers Philip Glass and Steve Reich, whose work
would feed into his rock playing. “Technically speaking, contem-
porary composers have pushed me to do things that I never would
have thought possible on the guitar,” says Bryce. “They aren’t limited
by the instrument itself, so they’re not writing things that are idiom-
atic to the guitar, and you learn surprising things from that.”
In particular, Bryce—and by extension Aaron—has gotten a lot
of mileage out of transferring Reich’s characteristic interlocking pat-
terns and pulsating rhythms to the guitar. “In a rock band, musi-
cians tend to play along with each other, whereas in Reich’s music
you’re often playing against each other in unintuitive rhythms and
in hocket patterns”—basically, instruments or voices stating a mel-
ody in alternation, with one playing a note while the other rests, a
technique that dates back to sacred vocal music of the 13th century.
“That’s something my brother and I do in the National to make
the texture or detail more layered and interesting,” says Bryce, who
several years ago helped premier Reich’s 2x5, scored for two electric
guitars, electric bass, piano, and drums.
Aaron adds, “I’m not as highly trained as my brother, but some-
how through osmosis I’ve picked up on a lot of the techniques he’s
learned from playing with Reich. Usually what happens is I’ll hear
him doing a certain thing and I won’t even think about it, but it
will appear later in my playing and I’ll write a song with it.”
Aaron and Bryce don’t divide duties in a manner typical of a
two-guitar band—that is, one doesn’t handle lead while the other
