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OK, last one to kill a bad guy buys the beer
When a Lou Reed gig came under discussion a while ago, I declined. I'm not a huge Lou Reed fan, the tickets were quite pricey, and I already had one trip to London planned this week. I'll happily trot along to any gig, but in the interests of saving money and saving sleep, I made the sensible decision. But then someone booked a holiday, and his flight out clashed with the gig, so his ticket was going begging. A poor little orphaned rectangle of cardboard, that was going to be quite unloved if I didn't throw myself heroically into the breach... honest.
(Anyone who wants a sensible review of a Lou Reed gig, should go elsewhere, this is more ramblings-loosely-connected-with than a review.)
I wasn't too sure what to expect from this gig, as I'm only familiar with one Lou Reed album (Transformer), and know nothing about the Velvet Underground. I was rather expecting a few "oh, yeah, I know that" moments.
A couple of unexpected things in the sight on stage: one, they'd put the drummer in a box. A sort of perspex cage thing, which I presume was there for acoustic reasons. Certainly the drum sound did seem unusually sharp and "close", so possibly the box was effective. Two, a 'cello. Somehow I hadn't been expecting that. (I'm also never sure whether I'm going to put the apostrophe in cello - it feels superfluous, but somehow I often find that I've written it. It's the days when I find myself writing 'phone that I really worry.)
Half way into the first song, I found myself nodding along in time to the music, unconsciously. Really unconsciously. I briefly considered that my central nervous system had, without my knowledge, become a dedicated Velvet Underground fan. Eventually I traced it: in the next seat but one, a very determined fan was full-body-nodding very enthusiastically. The Apollo's slightly flimsy, removable seats were transmitting the movement down to me. This became a feature of the evening and, while I didn't grudge her her fun, got rather annoying.
Early on in the set, a song I rather liked (Modern Dance) provided the best heckle I've heard in ages. At the end of some verses, Reed was really, really dragging out the lines:
It's not a life... being a... wife
It's not a life... being... a... ... <really long pause, during which some sections of the audience tentatively sing in the missing word>... wife!
Towards the end of the song:
It's all downhill... after the first... kiss
It's all downhill... after the... ... first... <really, really long pause, in which someone in the far right of the audience shouts... WIFE!>...
Well, it amused me immensely, anyway.
The only "oh yeah, that" moment actually came when Venus in Furs began. A lot of the songs, this one in particular, seemed to me to suffer from the effect when someone is trying to reinvent the song, and ends up half-speaking-half-singing the lines, and generally playing fast and loose with the time. Sometimes it works. Sometimes it just makes it sound as if the singer is a bit bored of doing this song, now, thanks. This was the latter. Venus... did feature an amazing cello solo, though: stage dark, spotlight on cello only, and the cellist producing the kinds of frenzied noises you just wouldn't imagine you could get from the instrument[*].
And, in the end, this was the only song I knew in the entire set. And he left the stage before coming back to do <song 1> and <song 2>. A second encore provided <song 3>. There is a Tw*x for the first person to correctly guess (no cheating) songs 1-3 in the right order - suffice it to say![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
triskellian would not have been impressed.
The one thing that really struck me, though, about half way through the set: I don't like Lou Reed. I don't mean I don't like the music - though unfamiliar, the laid back sound and trademark gravelly vocals were something I was quite enjoying listening to - I mean I don't like the man.
I often find that I've formed an impression, when watching a singer, of what he or she is like. Yes, I'm aware some people have a stage persona, and I'm aware that my conclusions are quite possibly very wide of the mark. But often I do, unconsciously, realise I've decided things about what the singer is "really" like.
Some singers, (Justin Sullivan of NMA is a good example) are prone to protracted (and apparently unplanned) rambling monologues, which probably do convey the idea of what they might be like to talk to. Others scarecely speak to the audience, but still leave the idea that they are friendly, arrogant, pretentious or bolshy. Lou Reed barely spoke to the audience, yet I found myself thinking that he was arrogant, imperious, unreasonable. Maybe something in the impatient way his fingers flicked signals to the sound guy, or the manner in which he brought each number to a close. I got the impression that of his bandmembers, his bassist was the only one he respected - and somehow his words of praise to the cellist after her solo made me think he wanted to say "aww, look at the cute blonde, isn't she a clever little thing". I can imagine that a mistake from one of the band would have unleashed hell on them, and his word would be law, no arguments. Maybe not. Maybe he's a lovely guy who's kind to small animals.
[*] Unless, of course, you've heard Apocalyptica live, in which case you wouldn't have been at all surprised.
(Anyone who wants a sensible review of a Lou Reed gig, should go elsewhere, this is more ramblings-loosely-connected-with than a review.)
I wasn't too sure what to expect from this gig, as I'm only familiar with one Lou Reed album (Transformer), and know nothing about the Velvet Underground. I was rather expecting a few "oh, yeah, I know that" moments.
A couple of unexpected things in the sight on stage: one, they'd put the drummer in a box. A sort of perspex cage thing, which I presume was there for acoustic reasons. Certainly the drum sound did seem unusually sharp and "close", so possibly the box was effective. Two, a 'cello. Somehow I hadn't been expecting that. (I'm also never sure whether I'm going to put the apostrophe in cello - it feels superfluous, but somehow I often find that I've written it. It's the days when I find myself writing 'phone that I really worry.)
Half way into the first song, I found myself nodding along in time to the music, unconsciously. Really unconsciously. I briefly considered that my central nervous system had, without my knowledge, become a dedicated Velvet Underground fan. Eventually I traced it: in the next seat but one, a very determined fan was full-body-nodding very enthusiastically. The Apollo's slightly flimsy, removable seats were transmitting the movement down to me. This became a feature of the evening and, while I didn't grudge her her fun, got rather annoying.
Early on in the set, a song I rather liked (Modern Dance) provided the best heckle I've heard in ages. At the end of some verses, Reed was really, really dragging out the lines:
It's not a life... being a... wife
It's not a life... being... a... ... <really long pause, during which some sections of the audience tentatively sing in the missing word>... wife!
Towards the end of the song:
It's all downhill... after the first... kiss
It's all downhill... after the... ... first... <really, really long pause, in which someone in the far right of the audience shouts... WIFE!>...
Well, it amused me immensely, anyway.
The only "oh yeah, that" moment actually came when Venus in Furs began. A lot of the songs, this one in particular, seemed to me to suffer from the effect when someone is trying to reinvent the song, and ends up half-speaking-half-singing the lines, and generally playing fast and loose with the time. Sometimes it works. Sometimes it just makes it sound as if the singer is a bit bored of doing this song, now, thanks. This was the latter. Venus... did feature an amazing cello solo, though: stage dark, spotlight on cello only, and the cellist producing the kinds of frenzied noises you just wouldn't imagine you could get from the instrument[*].
And, in the end, this was the only song I knew in the entire set. And he left the stage before coming back to do <song 1> and <song 2>. A second encore provided <song 3>. There is a Tw*x for the first person to correctly guess (no cheating) songs 1-3 in the right order - suffice it to say
triskellian would not have been impressed.The one thing that really struck me, though, about half way through the set: I don't like Lou Reed. I don't mean I don't like the music - though unfamiliar, the laid back sound and trademark gravelly vocals were something I was quite enjoying listening to - I mean I don't like the man.
I often find that I've formed an impression, when watching a singer, of what he or she is like. Yes, I'm aware some people have a stage persona, and I'm aware that my conclusions are quite possibly very wide of the mark. But often I do, unconsciously, realise I've decided things about what the singer is "really" like.
Some singers, (Justin Sullivan of NMA is a good example) are prone to protracted (and apparently unplanned) rambling monologues, which probably do convey the idea of what they might be like to talk to. Others scarecely speak to the audience, but still leave the idea that they are friendly, arrogant, pretentious or bolshy. Lou Reed barely spoke to the audience, yet I found myself thinking that he was arrogant, imperious, unreasonable. Maybe something in the impatient way his fingers flicked signals to the sound guy, or the manner in which he brought each number to a close. I got the impression that of his bandmembers, his bassist was the only one he respected - and somehow his words of praise to the cellist after her solo made me think he wanted to say "aww, look at the cute blonde, isn't she a clever little thing". I can imagine that a mistake from one of the band would have unleashed hell on them, and his word would be law, no arguments. Maybe not. Maybe he's a lovely guy who's kind to small animals.
[*] Unless, of course, you've heard Apocalyptica live, in which case you wouldn't have been at all surprised.
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Random guesses
Shiny Shiny (Shiny piece of leather) (no idea what it's actually called).
Walk on the Wild Side
Perfect Day
Re: Random guesses
I'm sticking with You
Walk on the Wild Side
Perfect Day
Apocalyptica
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At school I was once presented with a cello and instructed to learn how to play it. I did not, and have no wish to try again.
Mind you, when it comes to musical instruments, I couldn't learn to play the triangle.
When I was a kid I didn't get it
when I had the chance to learn I wanted to be out playing rather then practicing. Now that I want to learn I find it hard to make the time.
A cello is an amzing instrument, probably (after the Harp) my 2nd favorite. Who knows ... one day I'll might master them both.
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Song 3: Satellite of Love
Song 3: Perfect Day
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Or since, I'm odd to Whitby, you may have a stick of rock if you'd rather.
Song 1 = Satellite of Love, Song 2 = Perfect Day, Song 3 = Walk on the Wild Side.
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You think you're odd to Whitby?