Stories of Death and Hope, Part 1 – David Berman and Drag City

Anyone else thinking about death lately? 

Self-isolated, socially distanced reflection and introspection.  It can be a bit gloomy at times.  Just when you see a glimmer of light in the Covid-19 storm, along comes an intensely tragic flareup of racial tensions that is reverberating around the world.

It is hard to find the glimmers of hope, but they are there – like the protesters who formed a chain to block looters from smashing store windows.

So why not a couple of stories about death, and hope, and what it means to be a good company?  Here is the first story.

David Berman was the front man for a band called Silver Jews in the 1990s into the 2000s. While I remember cassette copies of Starlite Walker and the Natural Bridge rattling around my friend Lasse’s bush truck, I don’t remember hearing their songs until many years later.  I have a knack for discovering bands after they are disbanded.  The sweet joy of finding an artist you love, swallowed up in the bitterness that oh – that was their last album… Why, lord, WHY?!!

In any case, I was immediately hooked by David Berman’s lyrics, with his words carefully chosen to poignant, evocative or even hilarious effect.  His slightly off-kilter voice was not a deal breaker. 

Like a message broadcast on an overpass, all my favorite singers couldn’t sing. {from “We Are Real”}  

Every now and then I would look for any announcements of a Silver Jews reunion or additional material. Then wonder of wonders, I saw an announcement of David Berman’s new creative vessel, Purple Mountains with a self-titled album.  And even more tantalizing, a tour.  I downloaded the album which I first savoured and then devoured repeatedly.  I contemplated a whirlwind trip to catch their show in Seattle.

I never did get to see Berman in person, strumming his guitar with his thinning black hair stretched over his steadily churning cranium and gradient glasses glinting in the subdued stage lighting. 

On the eve of the Purple Mountains tour, David Berman hanged himself in a Brooklyn apartment.

David Berman had attempted to kill himself previously, and was no stranger to depression. 

There is a place past the blues that I never want to see again. {from “There is a Place”} 

In the previous attempt, had he stared at the abyss and carried the residual shivers in his spine as he walked through the subsequent days, visceral feelings that kept him from standing so close to the edge?  What changed in the humid New York days of August, 2019?  No one can ever know.  And in spite of our desire for tidy explanations that you can Google in an instant, it simply is what it is.

Certainly the Purple Mountains album carried the sort of dark thoughts you might consider an early warning, and even presage the aftermath.

When the dying’s finally done and the suffering subsides
All the suffering gets done by the ones we leave behind

{from “Nights that Won’t Happen”}

So there is the tragic part of the story.  Now for the hope.  In the outpouring of tributes and comments after Berman’s death, one particular response hit me hard – from his label Drag City.

A lot of the time when you hear a story about a label and its relationship with an artist, it involves some sort of rip off or deception.  Susceptible artist taken advantage of by business sharks, improper royalties or unreasonable locked-in contract, that sort of thing.

Well, we will never get Berman’s side of the story, but I would like to think the tribute from Drag City is an honest reflection on a decades-long relationship.  Not just of “suits” seen in smiling pictures with their “product”, but as the kind of friends who look out for each other and understand a depth of personality that encompasses light and dark, joyous heights and profound lows.    

There was fitting commentary on Berman’s definite genius and creative legacy.  However, it was also very interesting to me that they would take the time to specifically acknowledge, and dismiss, the sort of theories people might have for Berman’s suicide.  Yes, he was recently divorced, but no, there was no bad blood and his ex-wife was very much still in his life.  Yes, it had been a decade since his last album, but no, he was not in deep financial trouble.  They reminded us that when the Black Dog of depression grips us, it doesn’t matter the reason.  We need to reach out – to family, friends, acquaintances or even the understanding strangers on a suicide prevention hotline.

Elsewhere in the media, it was noted that Berman spent time living in the apartment above the Drag City offices.  Drag City had someone check on Berman every day to make sure he was okay.  Can you see Sony Records doing this for a relatively minor artist (from a sales perspective) who hasn’t made a record in ten years?

Thanks, Drag City, for showing us that care and compassion can coexist with creativity and commerce.  We need more such models as we chart a path through the current troubles into an uncertain future.

Here is the tribute:     

https://www.dragcity.com/news/2019-08-12-call-me-from-albemarle

Photo of David Berman at the final Silver Jews concert 01-31-2009 ©2009 Ro Tam www.ROsnaps.com