Reviews of American Water
From 'Dazed & Confused' no.48 November 1998
"While some folk have been hammering square pegs into round holes trying to
assemble a kind of low-fidelity, new country movement, bands like Silver
Jews have carried on obliviously and have created one of the most beguiling
records of the year.
Silver Jews third album, American Water, uses the forms and conventions of
country and folk music without sinking into a stylised retro mire. Their
work excels because, at a time when so many musicians rely on older forms of
music to authenticate and window dress their increasingly tired artform,
Silver Jews use traditional music as a canvas on which to paint their own
unique impressions, "there's a responsibility in folk and country traditions
to add to that tradition'" states Jews main man Dave Berman. "I think most
people that play country music have dropped the ball just by fetishising
it." The remarkably tall Berman sucks a bloody mary through a straw while he
explains and theorises about his music with wit and intelligence that befits
the bands intriguing and elegant work. American Water fuses Bermans poetic
eye with the cubist pop sensibilities of his band partner, Pavements Stephen
Malkmus. With a book of poems due out in the new year, it's no surprise that
Bermans lyricism is the major contribution to the bands achievement. "I see
the music as a pedestal for the stories in the songs," says Berman, "But I
want it to be as interesting as it can be before the point of intrusion. The
music should be as simple as the stories are complex."
Berman is particuarly concerned with maintaining a truth and honesty in
his work: an emphahsis on presence or charisma over manufactured or
sanitised personality. "I don't make soundtracks to someones life. I'm not
interested in making the listener the star. I still believe in the speaker
and the listener, but I don't demand that anyone listens," he laughs. "I
offer it out and if anyone wants to listen they can."
Pitchfork Review
by Zach Hammerman
After a dozen enjoyable listens, I popped American Water into the car stereo this
weekend while cruising the hills of San Francisco and waited for a weak track.
Forty- eight minutes and three record stores later I drove home convinced that
D.C. Berman has crafted this autumn's most incredible record: twelve portraits of the
American landscape that simultaneously beg to be played at every hour of the day,
and reclaim the word "poetry" as part of the musical vocabulary. You heard it here
first, folks. The Silver Jews have evolved from a Pavement side project into a
full- fledged contender for the American indie throne.
American Water reunites Berman with Pavement frontman Steve Malkmus. It's not surprisingly then that most of
the songs sound like they would have been just as at home on the last Pavement album,
Brighten The Corners. The big difference? Someone must have convinced Malkmus he was
Tommy Verlaine, because he delivers some of the most focused, inspired guitar work he's
ever done. And then there's the addition of ex- Royal Trux bassist Michael Fellows,
whose bluesy approach and punchy bass lines add immeasurably to the album's pastoral,
timeless flavor. A muted horn solo here and some added textures there keep the
arrangements fresh. It's obvious that a lot of thought went into this record, and
every move pays off.
From the opening song, "Random Rules," you know the Silver Jews are onto something big,
something which, in Berman's words, should be "hospitalized for approaching perfection."
The first half covers considerable territory, from the midnight execution epic
"Smith and Jones Forever" to the journey from Malibu to South Dakota in "Federal Dust."
In the lilting pop ditty "People" Berman reels off in his laid-back twang one of many
strokes of lyrical genius:
People ask people to watch their scotch.
People send people up to the moon.
When they return, well there isn't much.
People be careful not to crest too soon.
On the album's second half, the Silver Jews expand their magna cum Pavement sound to
include honky tonk ("Honk If You're Lonely" is sure to become a college radio classic)
and a few Dylan-esque takes on the rambling blues ("We Are Real," "Like Like The The
The Death"). As the titles suggest, it's not always clear what the heck Berman is
singing about. But in the pauses, and in the obtuse phrasing of questions like,
"Is the problem that we can't see, or is it that the problem is beautiful to me?":
somehow you know what he means.
Just how good is this album? A few years back I bought Silver Jews CDs to pass the time
between Pavement releases. Now things may be the other way around. So all hail the
Chosen People. It's time to take off your clothes and skinny dip in the American Water.
Poetic Comedians Craft Charming Album
Reviewed by Douglas Wolk from SonicNet.
D.C. Berman's odd, wonderful little band the
Silver Jews used to get dismissed as a Pavement side project, thanks to
the presence of Steve Malkmus and occasionally another member or two of
the better-known band. So last year's fine disc The Natural Bridge was
entirely Pavement-free; his point made, Berman has invited Malkmus back
for American Water, and it's their most entertaining and least difficult
disc to date. Berman is a poet who's obsessed with American history and
only incidentally a musician, though he's good at it; the artless charm of
his voice is often bolstered by Malkmus' quasi-harmonies here, but his
strummy, midtempo jangles are deceptively deep, avoiding easy structures
and pop-song tropes. His language works the same way (for some of his
poetry, have a look at the Drag City-published 'zine The Minus Times) --
if the lyrics weren't printed in the booklet, his best stuff would seem a
lot more normal than it is.
As you'd expect, there are some marvelous, arty, weird-as-hell lines
here, like "The birds of Virginia are flying within ya/ and like
background singers they all come in threes." More seriously, though, he
sings about wanting to "hold the world to its word," and his best songs
are about trying to construct meaning from words in a world, and
specifically an America, that tends to defy them. Song after song mentions
a city or state, only to move on to another one in a line or two. Sometimes,
his language avoids meaning altogether -- one song begins "Like like the
the the death/ Air crickets air crickets air crickets air crickets air" --
but more often it skirts around meaning, as in "Blue Arrangements," a
vague dance around the idea of shyness and passing into maturity.
Fortunately, Berman has some help from Malkmus, who, if he doesn't
exactly have a habit of getting to the point, at least likes to act like
what he's getting to is the point. His voice and guitar lines are
unmistakable -- musically, American Water's conversational murmurs and
midtempo guitar eruptions are a logical next step to Pavement's Brighten
The Corners, and the instrumental "Night Society" could be the tail-end of
a successful Pavement jam. And the lines of lyrical and vocal influence
seem to run both ways. It's hard to tell who's singing the coda of "not
much water coming over the hill" again and again in "Federal Dust" or who
came up with the idea of preceding it with the line "here comes the coda."
Which leads to another thing that people tend to miss about the Silver
Jews: how damn funny they are, and how dry that funniness is. American
Water's spine hosts a great little joke, which I won't spoil here. "Honk
If You're Lonely Tonight" is either a swell country song or a swell parody
of a country song, and most likely both. Berman's jokes, and his more
general embrace of absurdity-through-poetry, make sense as a response to a
country that's too big to be held together by an idea of place, and they
try to compensate by holding themselves together through barely meaningful
language.
The List Review
by Paul Whitelaw
David Berman and Pavement's Steve Malkmus return with
their third album of minor chord classics. American Water's
stories are of tired travellers, jilted lovers and especially
dedicated drinkers. It keeps a fairly respectable late
Velvets pace, with occasional gear shifts in it's more
Pavement-esque moments such as 'People' and the strangely
titled 'Buckingham Rabbit'. Elsewhere the darker side of
coffee house life is explored in the Mid-West phobia of
'Federal Dust'. But the greatest moment doesn't arrive
until 'Honk if you're Lonely', an hilarious bumper sticker
inspired, C&W pastiche with a catch-line of 'C'mon toot
your horn and flash me those lights, Honk if you're lonely
tonight'. Another future classic.
****
Mojo Review
review by Sylvia Simmons/a>
Writer-cartoonist David Berman reunites with Pavement's Stephen Malkmus for third album.
When David Berman recruited a band to play his songs, he called upon
college pals Malkmus and Bob Nastanovich of Pavement fame. Then, though
going on to christen their first three albums, dispensed with their
services after Silver Jews' debut, Starlite Walker, cutting the more
introspective The Natural Bridge two years later. Now Malkmus is back in fold,
and American Water sounds like a cross between his early outings and
Berman's short-story songs and flat, world-weary voice (All my favourite
singers couldn't sing", he croons in We Are Real; and I couldn't agree more)
coalescing with Pavementy flourishes and Malkmus's backing vocals.
At times it's like Will Oldham and a down-at-heel Lou Reed discussing
love, life and death at an after hours bar. Sharp lyrics ("I know a lot of
what I say has been lifted from men's room walls"), smart, distinctive pop
and fine alt country best sampled on the melancholic Federal Dust and
good-ol'-boy sing-along Honk If You're Lonely.
Philadelphia Weekly, OCT 98
by William Ricchini
Often thought of as a Pavement side project, country-folksters the Silver Jews
is really southern poet/songwriter Dave Berman. For the fourth Silver Jews
record, American Water, Pavement's Stephen Malkmus returns for lead guitar
after sitting-out for Berman's last effort, the terrific The Natural Bridge.
American Water is easily the most fully realized collaboration between Malkmus
and Berman yet. Berman's gorgeous country-tinged ballads are designed to
showcase his lyrics, but Malkmus makes the most of the minimalist
arrangements, adding subtle guitar lines he'd never play on a Pavement record.
Malkmus has his hands all over this record, most noticeably on "Send in the
Clouds," where Malkmus' riffing lures Berman's folk into anthem rock.
But amidst the added sonic punch, the best thing about this record is Berman's
words. His conversational southern drawl delivers his bumper sticker proverbs
with elegance. He still can't sing worth a damn, but when he chants "all my
favorite singer couldn't sing" on "We Are Real" you can hear a chorus of
Dylan fans cheering in approval.
**** 4 stars (out of 4)
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