You can tell a lot about a man from his master tape tracking sheet. The inside of the new (fourth) SILVER JEWS album features the inside information from the sessions at the splendidly-titled Hum Depot (in Berry Hill,Tennessee), declaring tracks to feature such enigmatic devices as 'Misty Sprockets','falling leaves', 'Knob as drawbar' and 'universal choir.' So that's how SILVER JEWS frontman and mastermind David Berman does it then.
Hmm...well, if you're still totally confused, then don't expect "Bright Flight" to answer too many linear questions for you. If, however, you're content to wallow in Berman's idiosyncratic swamp as usual, then come right in. As ever, the mud's just lovely.
And, of course, Berman's just as lazily, reliably compelling. Although "Bright Flight" doesn't feature any (ex-)PAVEMENT alumni this time, this seven-piece JEWS set up (including backing vocalist Cassie Marrett) is never less than intuitive: like seven separate Charlie Watts', they give the impression things are falling apart when in reality they're right on top of everything.
Memorable moments abound. Berman's tribute(?) to his sourroundings "Tennessee" is just ace, a (virtual) duet with Cassie Marrett it features great, sarcastic lyrics like "We're gonna live in Nashville and I'll make a career out of writing sad songs and getting paid by the tear" and (even better) "we're off to the land of hot middle-aged women."
It's followed by the one overtly country tune here "Friday Night Fever", but this aside, most of "Bright Flight" owes little to any obvious Alt.Country standbys, just (as always) letting Berman loose to roll his own marble around the backwoods in exemplary fashion.
Actually, the majority of "Bright Flight" displays Berman's oddball pop leanings proudly. Opener "Slow Education" leisurely slips into its languid chorus, despite Berman's kiss-off line "I'm not the same." Equally memorable in the chorus stakes is "I Remember Me" in which Berman's character ends up buying the same truck that previously ran him down as he was about to propose to his girlfriend. With immense pride, he sings of touching "the part where the metal was bent."
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Typically, lyrical gems abound. You could discuss your favourite insights for ages, but mine are probably "Tanning beds explode with rich women inside" ("Time Will Break The World") and "every single thought is like a punch in the face" ("Horseleg Swastikas"), the latter the kind of line SMOG's Bill Callahan would be right proud of.
Indeed, there's nothing easily dismissed here. The playful "Let's Not And Say We Did" bounces along with honky-tonkin' pianos and rockabilly rhythms, while in contrast "Death Of An Heir Of Sorrows" is a stately slice of Americana to sign off under a distant sigh of pedal steel. Even the rather slight instrumental "Transylvania Blues" finds Berman and guitarist William Tyler trading chilly Morricone-style licks, though some off-kilter wordplay about Count Vlad, crucifixes and garlic wouldn't have gone amiss either.
Ultimately, for all his meandering, Berman's fourth album only reinforces his status as a distinctive purveyor of superior hicksville Amricana, every inch a talent to rival his kindred, fatalistic spirits Will Oldham and Bill Callahan.
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