STATE OF THE ART BERGMANN

The Edmonton Sun
Friday, November 13, 1998
BY FISH GRIWKOWSKY

You can see the evidence of a million drinks on his face, hear as many cigarettes in his voice. Dropped by his label more times than most of us have fingers, Art Bergmann phones collect from some bar or other in Toronto and still, an inspiration to any of us who dare complain about anything, carries on.

"I've never been brave enough to off myself," he says with a smile you can hear. "I learned how to live it up all too well."

One of our country's foremost underground heroes, he even got a Juno in "better" days. ("It should have been a highlight, but it wasn't," he admits.)

Bergmann has, however, found light in his latest label divorce, a true Canadian optimist in the face of the snowstorm. "I'm an independent," he says, slowing down the last two syllables, making himself sound like a trophy. "I was really bummed for a while. Then I realized: no middleman.

"I could do whatever I wanted. Here's to that."

Like a lot of indies, Bergmann has the whole world in front of him again. All he needed to do was put the pen in his hand again and invite the muse. Trouble is, the muse was on holidays, maybe left in some bar somewhere, or a trashed hotel room.

"I've had a writer's block for a couple years," he laughs halfheartedly. "So my buddy Peter Moore suggested doing a live album. Recording it, it didn't come across."

Another low point? Turns out no. "Peter said, 'Let's do it in my kitchen,' he's got a complete recording studio in there, and so we did."

The result is Design Flaw, another in a long line of emotional projects following up the days Bergmann used to sing about his empty house, Marianne Faithfull or about tears about a mansion shooting chickens in Bruce MacDonald's Highway 61. Mostly just the singer and his acoustic, Bergmann tours through his old songs like Faithlessly Yours with a sad, sombre voice. He's joined by a ghostly electric now and then. The man even covers an old Gram Parsons tune, aware of the connection between himself and the doomed Byrd.

This, well, slowing down, taking it easy ... is this the end of Art Bergmann as party animal? Is he going straight and clean? "What the fuck for?" he laughs. "There's lots still left in me. I don't know what happiness is, necessarily, but I think the reason we're alive is to come to terms with that. I'm getting to the point of almost a reliable income again. I'm making a living. I don't want anything else any more."

Art Bergmann plays Rebar tomorrow night, tickets at the door. Show up early to avoid the downstairs lineup, but show up!