It's a beautiful record but hard to listen to. Every time someone asked DCB how he could write so many clever lines in his lyrics and he would respond with something like "I wrote 99 less clever versions first--you're seeing only the best one." He made it clear that his genius didn't fall from the sky, that he had to work at it. Which is a useful thing to hear for those of us who feel less talented.
Purple Mountains belongs nowhere near the patio hall of fame. Maybe it should be the first entry in the dark basement hall of fame instead.
This is a gorgeous piece about a beautiful record. Thanks for writing it, Steve.
I loved this quote:
"Because songwriting for Berman was ultimately an expression of life, not death. He’s fighting to stay alive on Purple Mountains, and the effort is courageous and valiant. 'I don’t have religion or culture. I don’t have anything I can believe in when I’m really scared,' he told me. 'When I play the songs, I feel the fear disappear.'"
I had to take a few years off from the record after his death and only returned to it this summer. When I did, I was overcome by how well crafted it is. "I Loved Being My Mother's Son" -> "Nights That Won't Happen" is some of the best music ever made, and the LP as a whole is truly one of the best records of the last several decades easily. That said, I am glad that I first was able to hear it in that liminal period post-release but before his passing in summer 2019. It really felt celebratory in a way that is hard to imagine myself back to now. But I took solace this summer when I revisited the record in just how beautifully rendered it all is.
Really nice piece, thank you for posting it. I too had plans to see him play on that tour (in DC), and the news wiped me out. I had seen Silver Jews play twice before… I still think of the show when Tanglewood Numbers came out and how joyous and sort of triumphant that felt to be part of an audience cheering him on. I find the PM album difficult to listen to now but the line that still sends a random electric charge through my brain without warning is the one about the “icy bike chain rain of Portland Oregon.”
It's a beautiful record but hard to listen to. Every time someone asked DCB how he could write so many clever lines in his lyrics and he would respond with something like "I wrote 99 less clever versions first--you're seeing only the best one." He made it clear that his genius didn't fall from the sky, that he had to work at it. Which is a useful thing to hear for those of us who feel less talented.
Purple Mountains belongs nowhere near the patio hall of fame. Maybe it should be the first entry in the dark basement hall of fame instead.
This is a gorgeous piece about a beautiful record. Thanks for writing it, Steve.
I loved this quote:
"Because songwriting for Berman was ultimately an expression of life, not death. He’s fighting to stay alive on Purple Mountains, and the effort is courageous and valiant. 'I don’t have religion or culture. I don’t have anything I can believe in when I’m really scared,' he told me. 'When I play the songs, I feel the fear disappear.'"
I had to take a few years off from the record after his death and only returned to it this summer. When I did, I was overcome by how well crafted it is. "I Loved Being My Mother's Son" -> "Nights That Won't Happen" is some of the best music ever made, and the LP as a whole is truly one of the best records of the last several decades easily. That said, I am glad that I first was able to hear it in that liminal period post-release but before his passing in summer 2019. It really felt celebratory in a way that is hard to imagine myself back to now. But I took solace this summer when I revisited the record in just how beautifully rendered it all is.
Really nice piece, thank you for posting it. I too had plans to see him play on that tour (in DC), and the news wiped me out. I had seen Silver Jews play twice before… I still think of the show when Tanglewood Numbers came out and how joyous and sort of triumphant that felt to be part of an audience cheering him on. I find the PM album difficult to listen to now but the line that still sends a random electric charge through my brain without warning is the one about the “icy bike chain rain of Portland Oregon.”
Jesus- very depressing.
Alex Pickett! I read The Restaurant Inspector last month and absolutely loved it.