Tamar Berk: The Relentless Dreamer Behind San Diego’s Nostalgia Revival by Lauren Leigh MartinDecember 2024
“It Takes a Young Man’s Life”—Paul Kamanski 1955-2024 by Tennessee Snow Cree Kamanski DennisNovember 2024
When Tamar Berk moved to San Diego in 2018, she wasn’t exactly starting over. A veteran of the’90s music scene, she had fronted bands, toured endlessly, and collaborated on countless projects. Yet, her solo career, kicked off in the throes of a pandemic, marked a transformative chapter: one that would see her release four albums in as many years. From The Restless Dreams of Youth (2021) to her latest, Good Times for a Change (2024), Berk has carved out a space that’s both deeply nostalgic and distinctly her own.
Her music echoes the raw energy of Liz Phair, the haunting melodies of the Breeders, and the cinematic sweep of a ’90s teen movie soundtrack. Berk’s obsession with creating doesn’t hurt, either. “I think I have OCD,” she says with a laugh. “If I start, I kinda can’t stop. The minute I write a couple of songs that feel thematic, it’s like, okay, that’s it. I’m done. It’s always 12 songs, no more, no less. In my head, it’s a countdown.”
But this obsessive drive comes with its challenges. “Nothing else consumes my brain like music,” she admits. “When I start a creative project, that’s it until it’s done. I hear melodies constantly, and I need to get them out of my brain. If I don’t like how something sounds, I’ll keep revising it and revising it. That’s where the obsessiveness comes in.”
A DIY Ethos in a Changing Industry
Berk’s journey as a solo artist began with a steep learning curve. “I put my first album out during the pandemic,” she recalls. “Before that, I hadn’t put myself in the scene outside of being in a band. Suddenly, I was starting from scratch—creating a Facebook page, a YouTube channel, figuring out Spotify and Apple Music. It was overwhelming.”
What followed was a crash course in modern independent artistry. “I was on the internet all day, trying to understand how to promote myself without just putting up a flyer on a telephone pole. But something about that first album resonated with people. It was nostalgic, raw—it felt right for that moment.”
Producing and recording her own music was another leap. “I taught myself ProTools, bit by bit. At first, it was terrifying. But over four years, I’ve gotten so much better at it. My partner even said, ‘I can tell the difference between your rough mixes now and before.’”
Her approach is informed by necessity as much as artistry. “I’ve had some terrible experiences in the studio,” Berk says. “Once, a guy said to me, ‘Why don’t you just sing and look pretty? We’ll play everything.’” Another incident left her reeling when a mastering engineer hung up on her and blocked her after she suggested reworking a track. “These are my babies. When someone inserts their negativity, it affects me deeply. For weeks, I couldn’t even listen to my own songs.”
Yet Berk has found ways to maintain control. “I don’t want a dude who can’t handle my obsessiveness. If they take it personally, it’s a disaster. So, I do most of it myself. But I also know when to ask for help—like sometimes with vocals.” Berk occasionally uses engineer Matt Thompson for sounds she can’t capture herself. “He understands what I want.”
Channeling Nostalgia Through a Personal Lens
Local legends Kimmi Bitter and Thee Sacred Souls are nostalgia-farming in their respective genres with great success, and Berk’s own music journey has taken her along a similar path. An “anthemic teen movie music, fist in the air, we’re doing it” kind of feeling strikes her listener. She acknowledges that her sound is an extension of her musical DNA. “I was so moved by the Breeders, Liz Phair, and Elliott Smith. That’s how I taught myself guitar, so it just naturally comes out that way.”
Writing on piano, her first instrument, sometimes pushes her in different directions. But her guitar-driven tracks—paired with her melodic sensibilities—are undeniably her calling card. “I’m not a lead player,” she says. “I stick to the meat and potatoes of the song. Then, I’ll bring in a great guitarist to find those beautiful chords.”
San Diego vs. Everywhere Else
Since her move to San Diego, Berk has immersed herself in the local music scene—a stark contrast to her time in Chicago and Portland. “San Diego is weird. It’s a massive city, but the music scene feels small,” she observes. “I thought it was all punk and hardcore, but there’s this huge singer-songwriter scene I never expected.”
Portland, in comparison, felt like a musician’s playground. “Everyone’s in a band, there are tons of places to play, and rehearsal spaces are easy to find. Here, it’s different. When I first moved, venues would ask me to find other bands for the bill, and I was like, ‘I don’t know anyone yet!’”
Still, Berk appreciates the laid-back vibe of San Diego’s music culture. “There’s not the intensity you find in Chicago, where you’re hustling for gigs and plastering the city with posters. But it’s disorienting. We need more mid-size venues like the Casbah. The pandemic really hurt the scene by taking away so many great spaces.”
Despite the challenges, she’s found her footing. Recently, she teamed up with drummer Mike Bedard, who’s toured with the Jonas Brothers. “He came in and sang backup, and I cried. A drummer who sings? It’s those hidden gems in this city that keep surprising me.”
Looking Ahead
With Good Times for a Change earning critical praise and a fifth album already in the works, Berk shows no signs of slowing down. She reflects on the sheer volume of music she’s put out in such a short time. “I always think about Taylor Swift and how much she puts out. Just the quantity of work exponentially spreads the word. That’s been my approach as someone without a label—just keep creating.”
Asked what she’d do with a million-dollar grant, Berk dreams big. “I’d want an amazing studio, all vintage mics, a ’70s vibe. I’d still be the primary producer, but I’d bring in an engineer and maybe a consultant. That would be the dream.”
For now, though, Berk is content to keep doing what she does best: creating music that’s honest, obsessive, and unapologetically her own. “It’s always a negotiation of how much crazy I’m willing to let into my life,” she says with a grin. For Tamar Berk, the answer seems to be just enough.
You can find Tamar’s music on www.tamarberkmusic.com and see her perform live at Sonofest Chili Cook-Off on the Casbah stage on December 8 at 4pm.