The Last Call 2/4/09
If good looks was a minute/ You know that you could've been an hour- Smokey Robinson, 'The Way You Do The Things You Do'
We wish you will return to the power of song.
Punks In The Beerlight by Silver Jews
The great majority of the ink devoted to pop music make up oft-told stories and rumors of titans long since past their prime. The Beatles. The Stones. Zeppelin. 99% of the modern music press is taken up by whatever ‘it’ band hasn’t become uncool or where the hot ring tone can be downloaded. In a galaxy far, far away from those words lies David Berman and his band Silver Jews. David is Silver Jews, and vice versa. David Berman is the kind of pop musician once nurtured by major label speculators during the Great Youth Culture Sell-Off. Forty years ago, he would have had a comfortable deal which would have allowed to put out a few slow-burn albums and build a following. Who knows, he could have worked himself into a supergroup. The point is, David would have found himself an honest career.
Over a week ago, David dissolved the Silver Jews. The music business turned him off. He doesn’t want anything to do with it. Further, his father is some kind of uberdouchebag lobbyist for various corporate interests. Wounded at home and at heart, he stated that he would devote himself to curing the sins of his father.
I could write a novel about this. It begs for that kind of treatment. I won’t. David, your father isn’t you. Your fans know this. Life is not The Empire Strikes Back. In reality, it’s much more complicated if just as painful. You are only in charge of yourself. You make wonderful music which has developed an audience. People want to hear what you will do next. It is silly to throw that away. The music industry might be disposable, but your songs aren’t.
Today’s track, ‘Punks In The Beerlight’, deserves a great audience. It deserves an arena full of bopping heads and upheld lighters. It does. And it will most likely never have it. It has maybe the greatest opening couplet of any song ever-’Where’s the paper bag that holds the liquor?/ Just in case I feel the need to puke.’ It has cool guitar work. There are many bands who will never even ascertain what their sound should be, let alone the few who actually nail it as well as this. Unfortunately, only a narrow slice of those few make any real money.
The world of indie rock is a bunch of broke motherf$ckers touted through incestuous fanbases always waiting to toss them on their ear. Easy may lay the crown on Radiohead’s head, but at their feet palace intrigues and duplicitous court maneuvers breed. At this very moment, the blogosphere ponders whether Animal Collective should go to the gallows. Their crime? Releasing an album which has brought them too many new fans. Indie rock is an exclusive world made up of mostly hipster strokes and mortally wounded nerds. David Berman wanted nothing to do with it. He just wanted to make a little money from his music.
And for now, he’s gone away.
This is no coocoocachoo. Indie nation shall quickly turn their lonely eyes to someone else. But David you shall be remembered here. You shall be remembered for a couple glorious albums which continue to be favorites of mine. You shall be remembered because you quit rather than compromise, a rare and brave action. And you shall be remembered because songs have histories, and yours will fold into a much greater work which never ends. 
O'Hare Arpt., IL
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