Spectreview: Purple Mountains – Purple Mountains

-ELECTRIC INDIGO-

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“Well, a setback can be a setup
For a comeback if you don’t let up
But this kind of hurtin’ won’t heal”

David Berman’s band Silver Jews is perhaps one of the most beloved cult acts in American indie, a band that has perpetually remained under the radar, in the shadow of brother band Pavement’s surprising if ultimately ill-fitting success. Berman probably didn’t mind, given his consistent reluctance to tour; staying under the radar affords you a chance to control your narrative, as evidenced by his decision to end the band in 2009 “before it got bad.” Ten years later, the pen has once again hit the paper, and not a ton seems to have changed based on the soft, easygoing alt-country of his new band’s eponymous record, Purple Mountains. Approaching middle age, Berman seems less content than bitterly resigned to exist in an emotional middle ground, one where the highs are sanded down and the lows rise like the tides. It’s unfortunate for him but fortunate for his longtime listeners, who should have a lot to appreciate in Berman’s return to rock-solid songwriting and deft, anxious storytelling.

It’s weirdly comforting to hear Berman speak about being uncomfortable, to listen to him candidly express how he has yet to find himself even in his age. Really, it’s his advancing years that let his unique drawl fit his signature country-leaning sound in an even more compelling fashion. Early highlight “All My Happiness Has Gone” is powerful because it pits a jaunty, warm melody against pitch-black words delivered as candidly as a booze-fueled 2AM confessional. To hear Berman speak about the grayness in his perspective, like on opener “That’s Just The Way I Feel,” is to be reminded of the fates of other older musicians with histories of substance abuse, those whose lives ended not by the drug but by the void installed in its absence. Of course, it’s not just grimness on display: Berman’s knack for vivid scenery and witty turns of phrase is as strong as ever, making light of the social media plague on “Storyline Fever” and the decline of faith in “Margaritas at the Mall.” It’s just that this wittiness is more a pinch of spice added to Berdan’s constant, frank expressions of loss, expressions that gain beauty once you understand what he’s singing about. Who hasn’t anxiously pictured the fallout of a significant other leaving them (“Darkness and Cold”) or pulled themselves out of suicidal actions with images of devastated loved ones (“Nights That Won’t Happen”)? As the music grows kinder and richer across the record’s runtime, Berman closes his new project with a reflection on the virtues of being alone, and just like the rest of the album it’s unclear whether it means he’s OK or he’s or yearning for a situation where he doesn’t have to be so strong. It’s a bummer, but bummers have rarely felt as comforting as in the hands of one of the most beloved indie lyricists of the last 30 years, and Purple Mountains succeeds as both a blessed return and an excellent introduction to Berman’s cozy, overcast indie rock.

Recommended for walking to your car alone in an empty mall parking lot.