While a recent article in the Seattle Times found some in the local music scene contemplating the Neptune’s quick success as a concert venue–and some remarking that its shows could all be booked elsewhere–The National rolled into town from Brooklyn to play two sold-out nights, and it was hard to believe that this show would have worked anywhere else.

The Neptune’s restored grandeur perfectly matched The National’s moody sonic opulence, and they made the most of their first opportunity at the new player in Seattle’s concert scene.

With a large screen behind them, the show began before anyone set foot onstage, as a camera following the band backstage fed live green room images to the eager masses. Finally ready to perform, well-dressed lead singer Matt Berninger, the only band member without a brother or instrument onstage with him, anchored himself and his seductive baritone at stage center, between guitar players Aaron and Bryce Dessner. In standard hands-gripping-the-microphone-and-closed-eyes pose, he kicked off their latest LP High Violet- heavy set with “Runaway.”

Throughout the evening, the band kept with the rainbow theme of the High Violet cover, as the lights and cameras doused the stage with a new color and background image for every song. During “England” and its talk of “famous angels” and “a Los Angeles cathedral,” graphics of bright blue and red stained glass windows appeared.  Between songs, Berninger alternated between talk of a new drink name he’d just come up with (vodka and Coke should be called a Cold War!) and his self-reported screw-ups being noted by the Dessner brothers.

The band’s 2007 album Boxer had the next heaviest mention in the setlist with “Racing Like a Pro,” “Squalor Victoria,” and crowd favorite “Fake Empire” coming toward the end. Alligator’s epic closer (and probable Berninger throat-destroyer) “Mr. November” showed up during the encore, right after a gorgeous version of Sad Songs for Dirty Lovers deep cut “Lucky You.”

The end of the four-song encore found the whole band in a semi-circle at the front of the stage, with even Berninger away from his microphone. After some shouting at the crowd to quiet down so they could “do something artsy,” the band launched into an acoustic version of “Vanderlyle Crybaby Geeks.” As the band’s unamplified voices melded into the singing crowd, the song’s repeated line made perfect sense: “All the very best of us string ourselves up for love.”