ISSUE #72 / August 15, 2019

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David Berman

In Memoriam

The loss of a brilliant artist is a destabilizing moment, in part, because of the kind of one-sided conversation with which we engage with art. It is an exercise in listening and absorbing. We ask the maker to share their vision with us. We react, but unlike real life conversations, we cannot reply. We are forced to do something much scarier than conversing about our feelings, as art asks us to consider the offered perspective without response. The tragic passing of David Berman has proven to be an especially destabilizing and devastating loss. Berman’s contributions to these conversations are imbued with such profound empathy and insight that it feels as though this man knew us better than we sometimes even know ourselves. The prevailing sense of, not just loss, but confusion, and the underlying question, “If someone so capable of making sense of the inherent absurdity of the human condition was unable to outrun his demons, what are the rest of us supposed to do?”

What now?

There are no superlatives to truly honor the brilliance of David Berman’s capacity as a songwriter. Through his work, primarily with the Silver Jews, as well as his solo project, Purple Mountains, Berman managed to blend an unflinching eye for the everyday horrors of simply being alive with a cheeky wit that reminds us that despite its grim appearance at times, we are all experiencing life together. He had a preternatural ability to turn a phrase both ruthlessly simple yet challenging in complexity. His lyrics were meant to hook us with their simplicity, but enticing enough to be endlessly picked over. This is all to say nothing of his capacity as a musician, which again defies description. Berman’s signature was a booming baritone that he rarely sought to employ in domineering fashion, instead opting for a restraint which gave the music a weighty and beguiling quality. More than anything, perhaps, Berman was a Chicago artist descended from a long line of literary masters. Berman seemed to know this as he sought refuge in Miller Beach, Indiana while writing Purple Mountains, where Nelson Algren did much of his work. More than just location though, Berman followed in the footsteps of other Chicago greats like Algren, Studs Terkel, and Gwendolyn Brooks by keeping his attention on forgotten people and stories, low down sensibilities, and a bend towards empathic appreciation. 

What has proven to be the most difficult aspect of this, however, is the loss of David Berman, the human being. In the wake of his death, which has been confirmed as by suicide, is the outpouring of stories about who Berman was in his day-to-day life. A kind, patient, and funny individual who gave as much of himself as he possibly could to his fans and colleagues alike. 

Suicide is said to be the final symptom of depression. It is no secret that David Berman struggled to manage this symptom. In the end, he lost this battle with what he described as “treatment-resistant” depression. He was loved and supported by his friends and family, and his battle with addiction might, at worst, be described as a parallel issue. Though he had attained professional success, no one is immune to this fight. It is yet another stark reminder that depression and suicidal thoughts are only battled by one thing: talk. We are, none of us, strong enough to fight this alone. There is tremendous courage in openly sharing about one’s battles with depression. We are all always and without exception deserving of assistance and care, even when chemical imbalances construct thoughts to convince us otherwise. 

Pointed out in the incredibly moving piece from Berman’s longtime label Drag City, 

“It feels like there’s little more to say about David’s place in the world right now that he hasn’t already said himself. Some of his incredible turns of phrase seem to have been written for this awful moment. But know that they weren’t. They were written in lieu of this moment, to replace this moment, showing the world (and himself) that maybe he didn’t truly know what was going to happen next.” 

Our sadness should not, then, be for Berman. As the man himself said, “the suffering gets done by the ones we leave behind.” So, we have a responsibility to David Berman and to all the David Bermans in our lives, to carry on this legacy of acute understanding both by celebrating his music and sharing in the experiences that he so selflessly opened for all of us. 

-BBO

[So too, it should be emphasized, that mental health is not a fixed state, rather it is something that requires constant attention and upkeep- just like physical health. If you are having dark or disturbing thoughts, please take the time to reach out to someone in your life. Know that you are loved and valued. Additionally, there are any number of resources for you to talk or text with a person who cares. There is always something more to hold on for…] 


If you or someone you know is suffering from depression please call someone. Here are a few numbers to start with:

SAMHSA’s National Helpline – 1-800-662-HELP (4357)

MHA Helpline: 1-800-273-TALK (8255)

OWH Helpline: 1-800-994-9662

You are not alone.