TUBA CITY

David: I was born in Williamsburg, Virginia. So I grew up in Virginia, lived in Ohio for a little bit and then went to high school and spent my adolescence in Dallas. And then I came back to Virginia for college.
Tim: At the University of Virginia.
David: (affirmatively) Uh-huh.
Tim: So you've spent a fair amount of time in the South.
David: Most of my life, yeah.
Tim: A lot of that comes across on the new record. I was wondering what you think of Southern romanticism -- you know, reverence for this area of the country that's kind of unique because it's the one area that's not as modern and it keeps it's own identity.
David: Sure. Well, I guess there's that whole element of the "presence of the living past" sort of deal. Especially as I was writing the songs in Mississippi, where the situation is even more extreme. It's south of the South and it's a place that's sort of been ignored, so it really is suspended in time. But, you know, the romance is really unavoidable and it's something that...if you're the type of person that likes to rethink the world around you -- see, I'm not interested in things like surrealism or people's dreams, fantasy, stuff like that. I'm really interested in the world around me, not like strict realism, but I like the idea of recreating what's around you. And I think a lot of Southern pastimes, whether it's music or storytelling or even the clichés of drinking and fighting -- you know there's that whole theory about the South being settled by the Celts and the North by the Anglo-Saxons. And how the Civil War was really a thousand years old. And I believe in that. But as far as the music, it (Southern romanticism/influence) maybe comes across in sort of a tendency towards storytelling.
Tim: So what was in Mississippi? Was that just where you guys practiced before the album?
David: Yeah. Well, I went down about a month and a half before -- I was planning on spending the summer in Oxford anyway.
Tim: Are you a big Faulkner fan?
David: I happen to be, but that wasn't the reason I went. I've just spent a lot of time in Oxford, I've passed through a lot on trips from Virginia to Dallas. I always really liked it there. I knew it was going to be a quiet place and I knew that we were going to be recording in Memphis, an hour away. So I just went down there early and I rented this place out in the woods. And I pretty much wrote the songs. And then the other guys came down about a week before we went into the studio. And we hung out for about a week before we went in and actually recorded the record.
Tim: And then you went to Easley.
David: And then we went to Easley, yeah.
Tim: OK, let me backtrack a bit and ask you about Dime Map of the Reef and The Arizona Record. I interviewed Bob (Nastanovich) about a month ago and he said that those were done on a tape recorder in the room that you guys were practicing in.
David: Sure.
Tim: And you had no intentions of doing anything with them. They were just documents for your own...
David: Right, we were taping them for our own listening pleasure.
Tim: And then Dan Koretzky got a hold of them and wanted to put them out.
David: That's right.
Tim: Now how did things change between then and the new stuff (done in 16-track studio)? Obviously that's a big change in recording methods and intentions.
David: Well, I knew going into the studio would shine a big light on the songs, so they had to be designed more exactly. But I guess, more pertinently, I was thinking of what I wanted to retain from that style of recording (tape recorder), and that was sort of an element of intimacy. I wanted to keep the element of chance alive. One thing I didn't want to get into was the sort of deal where you listen to a record and you know that everything has been completely choreographed. I wanted it still to be able to have that in-the-room quality. Instead of the music coming from down the hall, I wanted it to really be in the room.
Tim: So were the songs pretty much...
David: They were worked out. Definitely more worked out. The early records were loosely done, sort of on the spot. The lyrics, nothing was written out. Everything was sort of... We had to rely on instinct and go with it.
Tim: Were any of those early ones done on more than one take, like practice the song first?
David: Here and there...mostly we took pleasure in trying to play music like you would have a conversation, where you don't get a chance to go back and correct what you said. You know, you just feel your way through and it works sometimes and it doesn't work sometimes. But I don't think we ever thought of them as...we wouldn't put them in context, you know, compare them to rock records or anything like that. They were more like just taking photographs or any kind of document of your life.
Tim: So is that more your view on what all music should be?
David: No, not at all. I don't think so at all. I think that's just what we were trying to do right then. I would hate it if all music was like that. I'm glad some music is like that. I think music should be able to be everything, I wouldn't want to restrict it. To me, music can help...listening to other people's music can help you see how to live your life, teach you how to live your life, stuff like that. One thing that music really isn't -- sometimes it mimics life but it's never really life unless it's something like that where it's actually a moment in a room where it's not intended for an audience. To me that's an actual extract from life.
Tim: So how do you think the new record did as far as capturing that feeling in time?
David: It did it as best as I could have hoped for, for something that was so self-conscious, as any studio record has to be, in a way.
Tim: Yeah, I was pretty amazed at how much the record, when I listened to it, even before hearing what you've just said or reading anything about it, how much there was this concept of time that kept flowing through it...regret, some of that.
David: Sure.
Tim: Let me go back to the recording thing again. How do you think the Option article (on "lo-fi", Nov/Dec. '94) turned out?
David: It turned out alright. It's so obvious, it goes without mentioning, that like a lot of people say, trying to make a genre out of production technique is sort of futile. But there's obviously something there and it's obviously worth investigating, but it doesn't seem like something that should be looked at too much.
Tim: It seemed like this guy who was writing this article -- I'm not sure exactly what his ideas were when he started talking to everyone -- but he came in with these ideas and you and Mac McCaughan and Scott Taylor of the Grifters and some other people did a pretty good job of explaining that it really wasn't anything more than the easiest way and the best way that everyone wanted to do things.
David: Sure. It's really something that, in the end, comes down to what you have available at the time. Anyone who's in a room with a 24-track and a tape recorder is probably going to use the 24-track, you know? But when you only have a tape recorder in your room and you happen to write songs fast, it's irresistible to keep going and move fast and stuff like that. It was never like an aesthetic choice, really, although I like things about it. It really happened to be the only thing that we had.
Tim: Were there more than just the tapes that Drag City released?
David: Oh yeah, there's probably...god, I don't know. Maybe hundreds and hundreds of songs.
Tim: Wow. Are those ever going to see the light of day? Is there a possibility of us ever being able to hear them?
David: Maybe. For the last couple of years we've been getting together and recording on my four-track, so some of the four-track stuff, probably. In the end, I think that the more hand-held stuff -- like I said, like a diary or something like that -- can only hold interest to a certain amount of people. And it's interesting to us and some people really, really liked it and I think it's probably the sort of people that would like us as people. 'Cause I think music like that is really tied to the person, you know? A lot of people didn't like it and I wouldn't ever argue for them to like it.
Tim: Yeah, that makes sense. You made a comment in the (Option) article that there were very few studio records that could capture loneliness. You've already talked about the way you tried to keep everything real -- is that pretty much the way you approached recording the album?
David: Yeah, definitely. Not having any studio experience, the only thing I tried to say to Doug (Easley) and Davis (McCain), the guys at the studio, was, "I just want this record to sound like the people are in the room. I want it to be the sort of record that someone could play and not possibly feel alone." Sometimes I have this feeling where I can't listen to records, I have to listen to the radio because of the mood I'm in.
Tim: Because you know someone is out there?
David: Yeah, I need to feel a bridge between something that's happening right then and when I put a record on, sometimes I feel like there are no bridges to the world and it's enclosed and it makes me nervous. I wanted to make a record that still left a bridge open where you could still get back to where it was made.
Tim: You've probably already said what needs to be said about "lo-fi", but have you noticed that there's almost this backlash against the four-track thing? I don't know if some people think it's intentional or just that since it's not in the studio, it's not... I've read a lot of reviews that equate recording method with music quality, saying something like, "If this had been recorded in a studio, it might be something worth paying attention to. But because it isn't, it's not any good." That kind of thing.
David: I think that that's a load of shit. Those people should be forced to go back and read a lot of reviews of some of their favorite bands when they first came out and were reviewed by really conservative formalists in the early 80s who had no time for anyone who wanted to use alternate tunings. The thing about recording on the four-track and stuff is that it's this sort of inherently democratic ideal where anyone can do it. And of course that's going to release a lot of people who maybe just don't have any talent who would have gotten stopped earlier in the process. In the normal way of recording and the way you come up, they would have been stopped early on. At the same time, a lot of people who never ever would have seen the light finally do see the light. Someone like Daniel Johnston would never have seen the light day if he would have had to follow the standards that those people prescribe. So fuck them, you know? They just have to do a little bit of work and weed through the shit, but they shouldn't be discounting people for that.
Tim: One thing that I thought was really remarkable about the Option article was the way it almost unintentionally pointed out that a lot of the people who they were talking about, like Lou Barlow and Liz Phair and even the Silver Jews -- since your last record was recorded in a studio -- have gone on to do better-recorded things. These people went this step up because, at the time, that was the best move for them. And to discount their earlier work and/or the method that was used to record it is almost totally hypocritical.
David: It is, it is. And it is funny how almost every single band that was covered in there has since left that (lo-fi) behind. It just shows how late they are in covering the whole idea anyway.
Tim: One more question about the transition between records -- it seems like the music has gone from being more of a "band jam" to your songs with everyone else playing with you.
David: Yeah. That's true.
Tim: How did that come about?
David: It's 'cause I wrote the songs, sort of in isolation, and they weren't arranged or interpreted yet. So when we were in the studio, everyone's suggestions were considered and everyone had something to add in at that point. But as far as the actual songs, those were already designed and written out. So it did come off more as a singer/songwriter thing than as a band.
Tim: What are your plans for playing any shows? I know you guys have been pretty much kept to playing the Drag City Invitational thing and parties in New York, right?
David: Yeah. It's mostly comfortable, I guess, to play in front of people that we know, just because...hmm. I don't know, when it comes to music, I don't like all of the things outside writing and recording. The rest of the stuff doesn't interest me as much, the "star system" or whatever. That mostly comes out of live experiences, stuff like that. That stuff doesn't appeal to me that much. Parts of it do. We may play some shows, but it'll be casual. I think the ideal would be if we could play shows and do a lot of improvisation and making up stuff on the spot. It's easier for Steve to do that 'cause he feels real comfortable on stage; I don't yet feel that comfortable on stage. So, I don't what's going to happen with that yet.
Tim: Would it be really weird to play for a whole bunch of people that you don't really know or feel any connection with?
David: Yeah, especially because I always have the feeling that there's some people that...I don't like the idea that you could come and play a bad show and people would walk away and say that it was good. I would much rather play an open mike night where you had to earn your audience and stuff like that. I think I'd be interested in that. I'm not so interested in playing for an indie-rock audience. That world doesn't interest me, I guess.
Tim: How does it feel -- you probably get tagged with the Pavement thing a lot -- how does it feel to be in a band with two guys, obviously friends of yours, who are in this other band that is really well-known. Obviously that helps you get some attention, but does it overshadow the music?
David: Yeah, yeah. It's unfortunate to me, mostly. I guess I'd like the songs to be received as...I think all of us feel the same way about it. I guess the worst thing is to see it called a side-project. That really hurts. Even the word "side", you know? Everything about that term bothers me. It also bothers me because it's (the Silver Jews) older than Pavement.
Tim: How old is it? Since college?
David: Yeah, since college. We've always been playing together and we'll probably be playing together for long after Steve is gone off and done his own things and stuff like that. So it seems a little strange but, you know, I understand it and I hope that eventually it'll go away. It gets people to listen to it, but I'm afraid a lot of people don't listen to it in the right frame of mind.
Tim: On the first record, there's really no mention of any connection -- Steve Malkmus is "Hazel Figurine." Was that a deliberate attempt to try and confuse it all?
David: Sure. Yeah, we were trying to get away with having the album treated like an independent group and that didn't work, because of course when anyone finds out, they make a bigger deal out of it than it would have been if we hadn't kept it secret. 'Cause the secret made it seem more illicit or more interesting than it really was. So it sort of backfired.
Tim: Bob was talking about how the origin of the name "Silver Jews" was somewhat of an absurd, "it sounded cool", wacky thing. I'm not sure if that's what it was or not.
David: Well, I don't think that's true. A lot of people have been asking lately so I've been trying to remember. It basically came out of...I think we wanted to have a band name that was Silver something, like Silver Beatles or Silver Apples. I'm Jewish, and I never really was around many Jews until I moved up to New York and at that point sound came into it, you know, it didn't really have any meaning. So at that point it was just sort of a sound thing.
Tim: Yeah, I think that that's what he was trying to get at. Not necessarily that it was absurd, but just the sound of the words.
David: Yeah, it just had a sound and a color more than anything else. It was actually so thoughtless that I can't remember even thinking of the name or agreeing on the name or something. It was a name that was just there. It seems like it was just there at one point. That's how little thought was put into it or little thought we attached to it. It was more just a sound or a color or something.
Tim: Talk about the War Comet. I don't really know much about that band.
David: Well, those were just recordings that basically...I guess after Bob moved to Louisville, Steve and I still needed to play together and we still needed to play with a drummer, so we started playing with West, who's an old friend. We'd known him since college and when we were in college he played in a band from Richmond called Contoocook Line. They used to play in North Carolina all the time I remember.
Tim: I think I've heard the name, but I'm not sure.
David: So we started playing with him and this woman Sabelle Firat who would play bass and cello. Necessarily, the music was completely different. It was much more rock 'n roll and I guess psychedelic, in a way. Maybe not as lyric-oriented. I guess we played one show out like that and we play parties and stuff like that.
Tim: So no recording or putting anything out?
David: Oh, we've recorded tapes and tapes of four-track stuff, but it's never been developed to the point that we want it to where it's different enough of a band that we can feel like it's different from the Silver Jews in the way that Silver Jews is different from Pavement. We're still trying to develop that and eventually there'll be a record.
Tim: You do a lot of writing and cartoon-drawing.
David: (affirmatively) Uh-huh.
Tim: I enjoyed your pieces in The Baffler a whole lot. What else -- it seems like your stuff is kind of stream-of-conscious naturalism and I know you said you're not interested in surrealism, but a lot of it is not surreal, but these odd images of..."heaps of dead Ataris", stuff like that.
David: Sure. Sure. Um, well. Hmm. So you just want to...
Tim: I'm not exactly sure what my question is. I guess I want to know how long have you been writing, what do you like about it or...
David: I've been writing since high school. I started writing poetry and short fiction. I've always been interested in sort of constructing these worlds out of the pieces of this world. I try to keep them separate, but in the end they're all just sort of translations of each other. It's hard for me to tell the difference any more between a song and a poem and a story -- they all sort of come from the same place. But it's where my true heart's desire is, in writing. That's where I get my most satisfaction. Music is more of a side line.
Tim: And cartoons, are they almost visual expressions of the same thing?
David: Yeah. I used to work at an art museum in New York as a security guard and I just started drawing a lot, drawing these cartoons. I'd give them to the curators and stuff like that for a kick.
Tim: What other things do you do when you're not creating music or writing or drawing? I know you went to England this past week?
David: Yeah, this weekend I went to England to do interviews and that was sort of sad, 'cause I didn't do anything at all except sit in a room and look at the space heater, but... Umm, what do I do? Well...I spend a lot of time with my friends and my girlfriend and I play a lot of pinball and I shoot my BB gun and... (chuckles)
Tim: You live up in Massachusetts somewhere?
David: Yeah, I live in Northampton, Massachusetts. (pauses) And that's about it.
Tim: What are your plans, besides the possibility of doing a few shows? What are your plans as far as the future, either Silver Jews or anything else?
David: In the spring I'm leaving here and I'm either going to go back to Charlottesville or back to Texas -- I don't know yet. I'd like to try and find a house that I can afford and try and buy a house and try and settle down and see if I can.... I'm going to eventually have to get a real job and have some kids. I'm 27, so I'm thinking about being an adult. I feel a little bit like I've been living still like a young man and, you know, I'm ready to move... I'm not one of those people that's afraid of getting old, I sort of look forward to it. 'Cause I was sort of born an old man and I feel like I get younger and younger. I like getting older -- I look forward to my thirties and forties and stuff like that.
Tim: Back to the Faulkner thing for a moment, what's your favorite Faulkner novel?
David: Well, not 'cause I think it's the best, most well-written, but The Wild Palms really affected me. Just the darkness of it really affected me at a certain time of my life when I was living in New York. But in other moods I feel like Absalom, Absalom!, just for how dense it is.
Tim: Were you an English major in college?
David: (affirmatively) Uh-huh. Yeah, I was. It was a real pleasure being an English major at UVa, especially 'cause so many great writers live in Charlottesville or teach at the University and I could be around the people that were there like George Garrett and Charles Wright, people like that. Sort of get advice.
Tim: Would you ever be interested in publishing your own writing?
David: Yeah. I hope some day I'll be able to write a lot of books. I guess that's my major goal in life: to be able to write books. And, you know, that's hard, because the publishing world is so impossible. I mean, it seems that any dork with a four-track can get a record out, get reviews, stuff like that, but it's really hard to get published by anyone that matters. Getting published on a little press isn't the same as getting recorded on a little label. It's even less visibility.
Tim: There's no indie publishing scene.
David: Yeah, it just seems so futile. I think it's going to take a lot of time and I'm going to be patient about it.