Berman did not to me seem larger than life because he was so thoroughly of it, or at least the kind most familiar to me growing up in small-town Missouri. His indie rock/honky tonk songs made me feel as if the universe's great mysteries could just as easily be mined from the cashier's desk at a brick pharmacy in Roanoke as they could from any trust fund apartment in Brooklyn. I counted that as a service in a cultural world where it felt like nothing happened unless it happened in New York City. by Rich Smith