concert review

SAN DIEGO, CA — SEPTEMBER 23, 2008 The weird wonderful world of Silver Jews would intersect with the wonderful weird world of the Casbah for the first time on this fateful Tuesday night. It would prove to be a joyous occasion for all the nine to fivers who sacrificed valuable sleeping hours in order to soak in some of the Silver Jews’ midnight magic.

Of course what fan in their right mind would miss this show in the first place? The Silver Jews have been slogging it out since 1989, but have only been touring as a band since 2006. For years, the leader, and quite often only “Joo,” David Berman would bring his songs to life via a series of revolving door session cats and musician friends. Most famously, members of the band Pavement and specifically Stephen Malkmus helped out on many of the albums.

The name association certainly helped Silver Jews become a household brand in the indie-rock underground. The similarities between the two bands were quite limited though, as Berman’s monotone vocals draped over country tinged backdrops were a far cry from Pavement’s experimental pop tendencies.

Fans of the Joos know this a magic formula, but even all the great songs couldn’t keep Berman from reaching a nearly tragic end in 2003 when he attempted suicide. Ditching illicit substances and adopting Judaism, Berman would rebound by releasing the best album of the Joos career, Tanglewood Numbers, in 2005.

So this is where the crowd at the Casbah arrives in the Tale of David Berman. If this was an E True Hollywood Story it would be the final 10 or 15 minutes and Berman would be fresh out of rehab and would be flying high on life, stone sober. But knowing the back story, and knowing that Berman was always reclusive about playing live, and seeing him get up on stage to sing these songs when he could just as easily be six-feet under, really made this night something special.

Plus the guy is an absolute riot. Berman rolled into the Casbah sporting a get-up that made him a dead ringer for Luke Wilson’s character in The Royal Tenenbaums. The thick beard was in full-effect, as were some bizarre old school sunglasses, and, to top it off, the kick-ass “Joos” belt buckle. If the man was trying his best to blend in, his mission had failed miserably.

After a little technical difficulty with the usual culprit (a long daisy chain of guitar effects with a bad pedal or patch cord) the band finally got going shortly after eleven. All eyes were on Berman as he took the stage and tore into his trademark monotone. Like the Joos albums, Berman’s vocals were way up in the mix, making the band’s contribution almost an afterthought to his voice. At times this was a bit of a downer since certain lead guitar parts that should have been front and center were relegated to a secondary roll.

The band was quality, but they still seem like they need maybe another tour or two before they are absolutely firing on all cylinders. They were certainly a bit looser than what you hear on the albums (especially the latest Lookout Mountain, Lookout Sea – which is almost too polished in my opinion.) Overall the band seemed most comfortable tackling the rockers (“Smith And Jones Forever,” “Punks in the Beerlight”) because they are loose and got the crowd going.

One of the mellow highlights was the relatively new “We Could Be Looking For The Same Thing.” One fun fact about Silver Jews is that David’s wife, Cassie, plays bass in the band. Her vocals are also a key element on many of the Joos latest songs. “We Could Be Looking For The Same Thing” is basically a duet (a “Joo-et” if you prefer) between the two lovebirds. And talk about exchanging glances on stage! At points it was like “Get a room you two!” I can only imagine how awkward it must be for the other guys in the band when these two share the backseat in the van.

The personal highlight for yours truly was an ace rendition of the raging “Sometimes A Pony Gets Depressed” off Tanglewood Numbers. Not only was the song stellar, but Berman introducing it as the reason why Clay Aiken had come out of the closet that same day made it even that much better. The two hundred or so people in attendance sang along as the unofficial anthem for the most obviously gay man to ever come out of the closet rang throughout the club. Berman was still alive and rocking in San Diego and Clay Aiken had safely exited his glass closet. The universe was once again at peace.

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