David Berman is the author of Actual Air (1998) and The Portable February (2009). He has also contributed to The Baffler and The Minus Times. His band, Silver Jews, released six albums on Drag City Records from 1994 to 2008 and is the subject of a 2006 documentary film entitled Silver Jew, also released by Drag City. New York based writer Jeremy Schmall reported this summer that Berman is currently working on his own documentary film.
Thank you DCB for your writing and Silver Jews music.
The following is an interview with David Berman that I conducted in January of 2008. It first appeared in Issue #19 of Ghettoblaster Magazine. I recently looked into my archives and decided that I am just too proud of this interview not to have it featured here on the Fulcrum.
Berman = Bold
The Tennessee Titans make an appearance in the liner notes of Tanglewood Numbers and the place kicker for the Falcons is referenced in the song Dallas. On what level are you interested in the world of pro (or college) sports?
When I was younger, 77-82, those were my most passionate NFL years. I was the type who cried at the glory of a slow motion Earl Campbell clip anchored by some building gooey soft rock.
I stepped away from fantasy football this year, in order to concentrate on the album. Every once in a while, during the season I'd look up and be like, wait, San Diego is good again?
What would you like people to know about the documentary Silver Jew?
The last day we were there, the war with Hezbollah in the north started. We left that night, thinking all the people we'd met were likely to be dead by the time we got home.
What advice would you give to someone traveling to Israel for the first time?
Study about it before you get there.
How many letters do you receive in a given month, and how many are you able to respond to?
Maybe 100 per year. I respond to all of them.
Did you do anything special for Hanukkah?
I lit the candles every night, and placed them in a window so it
could be seen in the street.
Marrano's were Spanish Jews who pretended to convert
to Christianity to survive the inquisition.
They had tiny secret synagogues in their houses.
People still discover them today behind walls.
It means something when you say “I am a Jew,” in a conspicuous way. History says it's a risk. I love it.
What's the best and worst thing about living in Nashville?
The best thing: proximity to music history
The worst thing: cruel and selfish anti-tax movements
Where did you and Cassie meet?
At a party, the night after thanksgiving 1998 in Louisville.
Someone told me her name and I had one of those “what the hell”
impulses and introduced myself.
I heard you on NPR a few months ago, which forced me to wonder,
where do you generally get your news?
The New York Times, Haaretz
What's the surliest thing you have ever done?
That's impossible to answer on at least three counts!
With regards to Silver Jews, what is the biggest risk you have ever taken?
I'll say the band name was not one predicted to go the distance.
This May, Silver Jews are scheduled to play the All Tomorrow's Parties Festivals in England and Spain, and over the past two years you have logged many miles with the band in Europe. Is there a city in Europe that stands out to you?
I liked Toulouse and Paris the best I think.
This year we are going to play Germany, Austria and Poland
with a great Israeli band, Monotonix.
You were recently quoted on Billboard.com saying in regards to the new album, “It's really different in that the songs have more epic settings.” What has you thinking so prodigiously?
World turmoil? Reading Torah. Beloved Isolation.
Any disasters during Lookout Mountain, Lookout Sea, or did the process go smoothly for you? (I heard the studio burned down last time during the recording of Tanglewood Numbers.)
It's happening again, the process. As we speak, it's back on the table with its chest split open.
What is the most memorable dream you've had? (Or any memorable dream.)
When I was very young I was haunted by a dream that I had when I was even younger. It had to do with everybody going out to dinner, leaving the house, all dressed up nice. I am trapped underneath the coffee table in this bed of flames that holds me there, in the embrace of an old man made of flames that crackles
and they can't hear me or see me and I can't get their attention...
I just see their ankles as they go out.
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