Blues for the Jews

The Silver Jews have lost their luster—at least that’s what singer/songwriter/ guitarist David Berman, the man behind the moniker, believes. So Berman is mothballing his critically acclaimed band—perhaps for good. According to a message board post credited to him on the worldwide bathroom wall last week, Berman suggested it was time to find a new line of work, that the band he started with Pavement’s Stephen Malkmus and Bob Nastanovich in 1992 had played its final note.

Coincidentally, around the time of his announcement, I was entertaining the idea of writing a post on the Silver Jews, just a quick little ditty to spotlight my favorite Berman lyrics. So that's what I’m going to do.

Normally, I try not to chase stories covered by all the other blahgs, so I won’t dwell on the whys, how comes and say it ain’t sos of this breakup story. What I will say is that Silver Jews have erected a magnificent and sturdy palace of sound in an ever-increasing ramshackle indie rock ghetto. Through six albums (including last year’s excellent Lookout Mountain, Lookout Sea), three EPs and a handful of singles, Berman has explored humanity and all its banalities and absurdities from a most unique, idiosyncratic perspective. His songs, whether steeped in the absurd, the abstract, the droll, the metaphorical or the existential, have been routinely strange. But in their weirdness exists a thicket of simple truths. What’s more, Berman’s songs are impeccably crafted (he is an actual poet after all); they're unburdened by frills and cliches, favoring economy to deliver his peculiar profundities. Likewise, Berman’s dry, adenoidal, twangy delivery coupled with the organic, unadorned execution of a sympathetic band (think Velvet Underground meets Hank Williams) has made the perfect vehicle for his musings. With that, I give you my favorite Silver Jews lyrics:

“Repair is the dream of the broken thing.
Like a message broadcast on an overpass,
All my favorite singers couldn’t sing.”
‑“We Are Real” from 1998’s American Water (Drag City)

“Punk rock died when the first kid said
‘Punk’s not dead, punk’s not dead.’ ”
‑“Tennessee” from 2001’s Bright Flight (Drag City)

“There is a house in New Orleans.
Not the one you’ve heard about,
I’m talking about another house.”
‑“New Orleans” from 1994’s Starlite Walker (Drag City)

“In 27 years, I’ve drunk fifty-thousand beers.
And they just wash against me like the sea into a pier.”
‑“Trains Across the Sea” from Starlite Walker

“Hey boys supper’s on me.
Our record just went aluminum.”
‑“Dallas” from 1996’s The Natural Bridge (Drag City)

“So you wanna build an altar on a summer night,
You wanna smoke the gel off a fentanyl patch.
Aincha heard the news? Adam and Eve were Jews.
And I always loved you to the max.”
‑“Punks in the Beerlight” from 2005’s Tanglewood Numbers (Drag City)

“Time is a game that only children play well.
How can I love you if you won’t lie down?”
‑“How Can I Love You If You Won’t Lie Down” from Tanglewood Numbers

“I asked a painter why the roads are all colored back.
He said, “Steve It’s because people leave and no highway will bring them back.
So if you don’t want me I promise not to linger.
But before I go I have to ask you about that tan line on your ring finger.”
‑“Random Rules” from American Water

“My ski vest has buttons like convenience store mirrors in the L-B-C.”
‑“We Are Real” from American Water

Postscript: The Silver Jews made their final appearance on Saturday, January 31, in McMinnville, Tennessee. The venue was the Volcano Room, located in the Cumberland Caverns, some 333 feet underground. Said Berman of the location: “I always wanted to go out on top. I guess this works, too.”