David Berman was never really a quiet guy. Through The Silver Jews' 17 years of near-stage-silence, Berman always indulged the swarms of journalists eager for Jews news with lengthy interviews and thoughtful, candid answers. There wasn't much mystery: He traveled, gave readings, but never with a band. Which is why The Silver Jews' first tour in 2006 was such an unexpected treat (especially for someone who'd just discovered the literary ecstasy of Tanglewood Numbers). At London's Scala, the band was admirably shaky; David was charming and coy in his delivery, as he peered into a music stand of lyrics for the occasional assist. In all, the night was perfect.
For this follow-up tour, I inevitably had different expectations. The narrative surrounding it, following a ton of positive press for the Jews' sixth full-length, Lookout Mountain, Lookout Sea, focused on Berman's recovery from depression and drug addiction and the new positive direction of his life and the band. The idea of David and wife Cassie (on bass) touring together -- with drummer, keyboard player, and good-old-boy guitarists William Tyler and Peyton Pinkerton in tow -- resounded with writers (which most Silver Jews fans invariably are, and vice versa) and readers. This lead-in for the band's second tour, while peachy-keen, put a spin on the evening, different than that first glimpse behind the SJ curtain. It was to be something more than a mere exhibition of the Silver Jews catalog done live -- a show in its own right, an event.
In that spirit, Drag City labelmates Monotonix opened with their outsider theatrics, playing, as usual, from the floor of the venue. But the party-rock parody fell flat in the awkward environs of the venue: Careening around a room of music nerds, mooning the crowd, pouring beer on each other and climbing the room's mezzanine threatening to jump made the band look more pathetic than rockin'. Worth a second look under different circumstances, perhaps.
After the floor was cleared and everyone was compensated with drink tickets, Silver Jews took the stage, emerging from a backlit-blue doorway and descending down a small back-alley staircase to their instruments. The familiar intro to "Smith & Jones Forever," a highlight from the band's best, American Water, was met with cheers as Berman grabbed the mic with confidence and maybe even a little swagger.
Berman -- oversized specs, beard as shield, donning a proper suit -- owned the stage while the Lookout Mountain songs glowed with sparkling Nashville sound. The guitarwork on tunes new and old (like classic "Dallas") cut through the club's mix with pristinely gritty solos and ringing lead lines. And the much anticipated duet of "Suffering Jukebox" made palpable Berman's much discussed spiritual and emotional recovery.
Though the novelty of seeing the Silver Jews live is wearing off (I know, fickle), the songs continue to captivate with a mixture of ambivalence and affirmation (even if their mid-tempo loll becomes more noticable in a live setting). The experience made the most sense as the night's closing phrase, "I love you to the max," repeated by crowd and band with earnestness and vigor, contradictions and all, echoed through the night.
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