Lou Reed – Berlin: Live at St. Ann’s Warehouse
7/10

Often great artists are only revered after their deaths. Lou Reed has been both revered and reviled for the various works he’s released during his 50-year career. Berlin is an interesting example of work that has been both widely criticised upon its initial release and then later praised and highly ranked. It was this initial poor reaction that prompted Reed to abandon his initial plan for the theatrical staging that would result in Berlin: Live at St. Ann’s Warehouse, and not play any of this material for 30 years. Then suddenly and surprisingly in 2006 Reed’s wall came down, and he decided to produce the unforgettable, theatrical and considerably uplifting performance of Berlin. With equally impressive and iconic modern singers Sharon Jones (of Sharon Jones and The Dap Kings) and Antony Hegarty (of Antony and the Johnsons) in tow along with Reed’s classic cohort, guitarist Steve Hunter, plus horn and brass sections and the Brooklyn Youth Choir, the show was a standout success. Recorded for a DVD directed by Julian Schnabel and later released on CD and vinyl, the show is clearly meant for viewing and listening concurrently. It may sound ridiculous, but at times listening to Berlin: Live at St. Ann’s Warehouse feels like you’re only getting half the picture. It has been claimed that this release captures the cinematic essence of the original album. If the parts weren’t so drawn out in quasi-blues fashion on some of the later songs then it wouldn’t be so distracting and one wouldn’t be constantly trying to envisage the staging that’s so colourfully described in the press. The songs themselves sound grungey and uptown, with accents of brass littered everywhere. Lou merely plays a part in this huge affair of performers. The rockier, gospel-lite versions of songs in the middle of the album are difficultly drawn-out, with Lou’s voice and guitar sounding gruff and gritty. Lou’s Berlin is challenging and robust, and the creepy collage that cedes in after the cherubic announcement of the choir in the first track, telling the tales of the infamous subject, the drugged and depressed couple, does it cinematic justice indeed. Reed’s vocal delivery doesn’t fall short, his punctuated and illustrative voice stands up like Johnny Cash until the day the man in black died, and there are moments of simplicity and genius like the end of ‘Oh, Jim’. But like with any grand production, this falls a little short when you’re not front row centre and gazing up at the behemoth of rock. Latter songs ‘Candy Says’ and ‘Rock Minuet’ are amazingly strong – subdued, subtle, clean and sophisticated; the stories are easy to digest and understand, and when Lou stops singing and stabs everyone’s hearts with his rusty guitar in ‘Rock Minuet’ it feels like he is awakening the soul of rock and roll.

Posted by Sarah Gooding under Album, Reviews
No Comments