FEATURE:
Revisiting…
Purple Mountains – Purple Mountains
__________
IT may be an uneasy listen..
and an album that has a hard and tragic backstory. It was celebrated upon its release on 12th July, 2019. Purple Mountains is the only album from the Indie Rock band of the same name. It is the final overall album by David Berman before his death on 7th August, 2019, almost four weeks after the album's release. Formerly a member of Silver Jews (in 2009), this was the first new studio album from Berman. A remarkable album throughout, I am not sure how many of the tracks are played a lot on the radio. How well is the album known? Maybe Purple Mountains is spun more in America - though there is awareness in other parts of the world. It is worth spending time with and playing if you have not heard it. Although it is quite emotive and is for particular moods and times, it is a wonderful album that will stay with you. The gorgeous and rich arrangements, together with David Berman’s unique and always-fascinating lyrics, will definitely pull you in. I am going to end with a couple of the many positive reviews Purple Mountains received. Not only was it one of the most acclaimed albums of 2019. It is one of the best-reviewed and adored albums of the past decade. This is what AllMusic said in their review of the sublime Purple Mountains:
“After the Silver Jews ended in 2009, David Berman's retreat from music seemed so final that the mere existence of Purple Mountains is somewhat miraculous -- and even more so because it's one of his finest collections of songs. For this go-round, Berman chose a brilliant band name: Purple Mountains is traditional but not obvious, familiar but with more than a hint of eternal mystery. While he's always been an eloquent songwriter, now he's also a direct one -- it's as if these songs are making up for lost time as they let listeners know what's been on his mind during the years he was gone. Within the first few seconds of "That's Just the Way I Feel," the hapless honky tonk that begins Purple Mountains, Berman transports his audience back into his world instantly. Just as quickly, it becomes clear that this incarnation of his music isn't as ramshackle as the Silver Jews were, even at their most gussied-up. He's backed by Woods, who ably handle any challenge Berman throws at them, whether it's the ironically mighty brass that soundtracks his lack of faith on the standout "Margaritas at the Mall" or the velvety vibraphone and pedal steel on "Snow Is Falling on Manhattan."
These timeless sounds mirror the classic tenor of Purple Mountains' songwriting. Over the years, Berman tried to record an album numerous times (with collaborators ranging from Destroyer's Dan Bejar to his old friend Stephen Malkmus), but reportedly couldn't finish his songs' lyrics. Based on how his simple, carefully chosen words let his wit and poetry ring out on Purple Mountains, it's safe to say that they were worth the wait. As he touches on his losses, Berman blends humor and heartbreak more masterfully -- and quotably -- than ever. "Lately, I tend to make strangers wherever I go/Some of them were once people I was happy to know," he sings on "All My Happiness Is Gone," a song with a shuffling beat that echoes Silver Jews' "Trains Across the Sea" and synth strings that feel decidedly Purple Mountains. He's even more eloquent on "Darkness and Cold," where he distills the growing distance between him and his estranged wife, Cassie, with lyrics like "the light of my life is going out without a flicker of regret." That song's flip side, "She's Making Friends, I'm Turning Stranger," boasts a country song title so archetypal that it almost didn't need to be fleshed out into an unflinching mix of self-awareness and jealousy with a bitterly strutting bass line and quietly seething pedal steel -- but fortunately, it was. By the same token, Berman knows when to let a simple "she was, she was, she was" speak volumes on "I Loved Being My Mother's Son." Filled with lonely songs that are as warm as a hug from a long-lost friend, Purple Mountains is a potent, poignant reminder of Berman's gifts -- and how much they, and he, will be missed”.
To finish off, I will source a review from Pitchfork. There is a simplicity and beauty to Purple Mountains that reminds me of Pink Moon. It is debated whether Nick Drake took his own life or died of an accidental overdose, though there is a graveness to his final album. David Berman took his own life in August 2019. Whether there are ‘warning signs’ or haunting messages that point to future tragedy, there is definitely more weight to Purple Mountains than other albums:
“As warm and immediate as the record sounds—heartland harmonica, cantina horns, and pedal steel all guide his words—Berman’s lyrics reveal all the reading that has inspired him. The singalong chorus of “Margaritas at the Mall” alludes to a philosophical text on the capitalist origins of purgatory; a line about treating the world as a “roadside inn” in “Nights That Won’t Happen” echoes a teaching by the second-century Greek Stoic philosopher Epictetus. And the jaunty “Storyline Fever” continues his tradition of whimsical penultimate tracks by considering the span of life as a long narrative with an infinite number of possible outcomes—it reads a lot like an anxiety attack but sounds a little like the Kinks. That Berman has scrounged a college syllabus’ worth of texts for their most human uses is a testament to the enduring, tragic empathy of his writing. Few writers are so willing to submit to their lowest depths to make you feel less alone.
While Purple Mountains is remarkable for affirming what we missed in Berman’s songwriting, it’s equally affecting for what it’s missing. He alludes to crises of faith in both “That’s Just the Way I Feel” and “Margaritas at the Mall,” a song that finds him at his wit’s end looking for answers from “such a subtle god.” His separation from Cassie after two decades of marriage casts a heavy shadow through nearly every song, a thematic and musical absence that gives the album an unsettling starkness. His voice has never been strong, but there’s a new helplessness to his delivery. “The end of all wanting is all I’ve been wanting,” he sings weakly in the opening track. “If no one’s fond of fuckin’ me, maybe no one’s fuckin’ fond of me,” he grumbles in the last. These are the kinds of characters he once observed with self-aware distance; nowadays, he just sounds spent.
The subject matter of Purple Mountains is grim, but he’s still David Berman, and he can still dazzle with the sheer beauty of his writing or wink at the camera to lighten the mood when necessary. Back when he first gained prominence in the ’90s, he was called a slacker, suggesting his unpolished delivery was either an affect or an ethos. Over time, he insisted just the opposite—that it was the striving that was important; that even if you couldn’t hold a note, it was worth showing the effort; that a song was something you spend a lifetime learning to sing right”.
An album that is so moving to listen to, it is not as hard-going or downbeat as one might imagine. Go in with an open mind, though there are songs and moments that will hit you. Purple Mountains runs in at just under forty-five minutes; it is not a huge or epic thing that takes several sittings. As I said, it might be for a particular mood or time of the day. If you do listen to it, you will definitely not regret it. Purple Mountains does deserve more discussion and airplay, as it is the final album…
OF an extraordinary and hugely-missed artist.