Silver Jews
“Like Like The The The Death”

It seems certain that in twenty years, Silver Jews will be one of those rock curiosities. Like Be-Bop Deluxe, or another one of those sort-of brilliant, sort-of lost bands Julian Cope is always writing about. This notion makes me really sad.

I know there are others who like Silver Jews, and many who love them. I once started a single serving Tumblr devoted to transliterating lyrics onto Some E Cards. (Browse, but don’t bother following it, because it’s an endless task, and my name isn’t no Sisyphus.) The current of music, poetry, and thought probably won’t take us toward the more elliptical and breathtaking maneuvers pulled off by Berman (or Malkmus or Tate). That’s too bad, but it’s also true. Sort of a law, or at least a bill. A prolific epigrammatist a must be something like a natural abomination.

Everybody’s coming back to Christmas for Texas.

Before there were in-jokes on the internet, there was Silver Jews. Now, people feel really clever (or self-actualized) posting three-frame GIFs of Annie’s boobs (sic). But there used to be kids in cars huffing dusters and singing along with Dave Berman’s words. It’s fine. We get it. I’m old. Old and sad sort of go together.