I spotted Andy Warhol in the audience... I hope he enjoyed this concert half as much as I did. For this review, I'll go over each member of Lou's band individually first:
Fred Maher is a minimalist drummer, but his style is less compelling to me than Moe Tucker's (the icon who worked with Lou in the Velvet Underground). Still, Maher plays his parts well, and his subdued approach gives the other musicians room to shine.
Fernando Saunders made me love the fretless bass. He plays effortlessly, elegantly - and he's a joy to watch. He clearly adores his job.
Robert Quinn plays guitar like no other; Lou calls him "ineffable." I'm never quite sure what's on his mind. Sometimes he almost looks happy, but behind those sunglasses he is a mystery. And a very cool one at that, who balances Lou well. Somehow, Quine is able to modify his frantic style to fit slower, more emotional songs without betraying himself.
And now... how to discuss this Lou Reed and his raw, earnest, ugly, gorgeous performance? Here we have a man sticking a pen in his heart, as the Stones would say. He projects confidence - but from all I know about him, he's embodying a nervous struggle with personal identity. He runs through shockingly brave songs that express strange parts of the human experience, songs that might appear cruel or sexist if they didn't have such undercurrents of self-doubt and sexual confusion ("Women," "Martial Law"). He surprised me with a tender rendition of "New Age," a number from his later Velvet Underground days. And he dueled Quine, of course, with that weaponized guitar.
At one point, Lou rushes through a recitation of the "Feelin' Lucky" monologue from Dirty Harry. It's a great, awkward reminder of his humanity. At another point, during a solo, he walks over and begins adjusting the settings on his amp. What comes through is some of the fiercest, nastiest, noisiest guitar work in all of classic rock. At that point he becomes otherworldly, as if releasing a primal scream for all the world to hear.
All the world should hear Lou Reed.
Fred Maher is a minimalist drummer, but his style is less compelling to me than Moe Tucker's (the icon who worked with Lou in the Velvet Underground). Still, Maher plays his parts well, and his subdued approach gives the other musicians room to shine.
Fernando Saunders made me love the fretless bass. He plays effortlessly, elegantly - and he's a joy to watch. He clearly adores his job.
Robert Quinn plays guitar like no other; Lou calls him "ineffable." I'm never quite sure what's on his mind. Sometimes he almost looks happy, but behind those sunglasses he is a mystery. And a very cool one at that, who balances Lou well. Somehow, Quine is able to modify his frantic style to fit slower, more emotional songs without betraying himself.
And now... how to discuss this Lou Reed and his raw, earnest, ugly, gorgeous performance? Here we have a man sticking a pen in his heart, as the Stones would say. He projects confidence - but from all I know about him, he's embodying a nervous struggle with personal identity. He runs through shockingly brave songs that express strange parts of the human experience, songs that might appear cruel or sexist if they didn't have such undercurrents of self-doubt and sexual confusion ("Women," "Martial Law"). He surprised me with a tender rendition of "New Age," a number from his later Velvet Underground days. And he dueled Quine, of course, with that weaponized guitar.
At one point, Lou rushes through a recitation of the "Feelin' Lucky" monologue from Dirty Harry. It's a great, awkward reminder of his humanity. At another point, during a solo, he walks over and begins adjusting the settings on his amp. What comes through is some of the fiercest, nastiest, noisiest guitar work in all of classic rock. At that point he becomes otherworldly, as if releasing a primal scream for all the world to hear.
All the world should hear Lou Reed.