Rick Walo, David Berman, and me: How three men saved a song from its writer.

So we went to see David Berman at the Corcoran this past Thursday and I have to say that I have rarely been so fortunate as to see something that incredible. He played six or seven songs form the upcoming Silver Jews album, but the most incredible part of the night was the long Q&A that he did afterward. The man is brilliant; the utterly poetic answers that he gave to mundane questions will resonate with me for a long time.

He talked a while about being an artist, as opposed to an entertainer, and said a lot of things that I really liked. It’s obvious, I suppose, but he said that to be a musician, one that leaves any sustainable impression on anyone, art scene or individual, you have to have a complete willingness to be autonomous. You have to have, from the beginning, an understanding that you can never be satisfied if you are writing songs for anyone but yourself. He said it better, be sure of that, but I took from it a number of things to think about. You have to be willing to write music and express ideas that are thoroughly unpopular, and be content with that, it is after all just for you, and if it represents authentic emotions then it will find an audience somewhere. Something like that.

It came at a great time for me because earlier that day I had been worried about a new song I was finishing up. I was worried that parts of it sounded too poppy and other parts where too disjointed, but I liked it all as it was and was wondering if I should change it. Berman’s talk convinced me that I should absolutely not change anything that I was happy with. This was further justified when I got home that evening and there was an email from a friend, one who’s opinion I hold in very high regard, saying that he loved the songs I have been writing and he’s proud of me. That meant more than I can possibly put down on this page.

Good day.