Silver
Jews
Lookout Mountain, Lookout Sea (Drag
City)
A new Silver Jews record so soon! What have
we done in life to earn it? Just living is enough. Here’s
your guided tour to the guided tour that is LOOKOUT MOUNTAIN,
LOOKOUT SEA.
All a-sweat and working hard, rumbling with terror and humility
like old Johnny Cash, David Berman is once again our tour
guide into the void, pointing out spots where some dreams
died and other conceits were conceived. Almost alone out front
at the top of “What Is Not But Could Be If,” he’s
joined by the band (Jews vets Cassie Berman, Tony Crow, Brian
Kotzur, Peyton Pinkerton and William Tyler), wafting in as
if from next door before kicking the lights out. Their opening
trot deceives us into fantasies of easing into Berman’s
latest head bath. But no dice — D.C.’s got a head
of steam and smoke, as evidenced by the antic pistol-pumping
rhymes n’ rhythms of “Aloysius, Bluegrass Drummer.”
Ears thus cauterized, “Suffering Jukebox,” and
“My Pillow is the Threshold” strike us as the
latest and most formal Silver Jews entries into the realm
of the
Chart-Worthy Song. Inspirational line: “what looks like
sleep is really hot pursuit.” But don’t ignore
the wide-hearted power of the chorus “Strange Victory,
Strange Defeat” or the ear-pleasuring chime of “Open
Field,” (a Maher Shalal Hash Baz cover!) which will
recall to old-timers their carefree days of R.E.M. fandom
before the rest of the world knew, or cared — or didn’t
care anymore. The days of ‘80s-’90s flavor are
aflame again in these tunes!
“San Francisco, B.C.” is the centerpiece of the
penultimate part of the climax of LOOKOUT MOUNTAIN, LOOKOUT
SEA. A dramatic panorama of music history is on epic display
behind a tale of dovetailing fates featuring the ominous appearance
of Mr. Games — a Merry Pranksters version of “Street
Hassle,” if you will. Regardless, history is longer
than we think. Classic Bermanisms signal our arrival into
“Candy Jail,” an institution overflowing with
assorted titular sweets as well as a few bitter treats too.
Suddenly the sky is available overhead, as the breeze ruffs
our hair and “Party Barge,” is launched. It’s
back to a state of nature for the finale, and with our idyll
gritting savory between our teeth, along with all other human
failings intact, we swing back to the jungle, waving goodbye
to D.C. and his bunch, edified, emulsified, intensified, stronger
and ready. Uncanny! Excellent!
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