Lou Reed, "Berlin" -- revisited

It had been a while since I last heard "Berlin" in its entirety.  I felt as though I was hearing it through a set of fresh ears, and my reaction to the music somewhat shocked me.  

I heard an colourless pastiche of emotional decay.  A ploddingly staged and unconvincingly acted two act tragedy, where the pain and sadness are presented for the composer's own amusement.  I couldn't suspend my disbelief and immerse myself in the sentiments suggested by the lyrics. Maybe listening to it in the car was a mistake, this album demands a certain atmosphere that intercity traffic jams obviously don't provide.   

These are the reasons why "Berlin" was, according to legend (I won't try to sort out truth from legend in this brief post), so hated and misunderstood in the 70's.  It eventually became viewed as a masterpiece, the most depressing album ever, an album that can devastate one's mood for the remainder of the day more decisively than just about any record ever made.  So these criticisms are nothing new, I just never agreed with them.  

Sure, I have skipped down this path before, notably in my review of the "Berlin Live at St. Ann's Warehouse", where the music was dragged down to turgid levels of disinterested ineptitude "thanks" to a cringe-worthy and perfunctory Lou Reed performance.  But I also think there's something deeper going on here.

I discovered "Berlin" in 1998, which in retrospect was its peak societal impact.  Lou Reed was a living legend, still coasting off his reputation as an alternative rock pioneer and the good will generated from the Velvets reunion a few years earlier.  Enough time had passed for a thorough re-evaluation of his more "difficult" albums such as this one and "Metal Machine Music".  Before social media and the widespread influence of the TMZ-style internet, the culture was ripe for acceptance of art involving flawed celebrities and their horrifying secrets. The unsettling imagery in "Berlin" -- delinquent parents, and their shrieking children, all-consuming sorrow made worse through copious amounts of drugs -- could have been a commentary on Kurt Cobain and Courtney Love's relationship.  Or more specifically, pre-Twitter and pre-direct windows into thought processes of every major celeb on the planet, it could have been a commentary on how the public perceived their relationship.  This week marked the 25th anniversary of Phil Hartmann's murder.  In the 90's, the music was heavy and serious and debates over "Jeremy" and the impact of Marilyn Manson's shock/art was widespread.  "Berlin" fit right in.  

With the passage of another twenty five years, the culture has flipped.  Hate and depravity get exposed more quickly, sometimes due to the perpetrators own ill-advised tweets.  But "Berlin" had a voyeuristic appeal, all the behaviour it described was taking place in the seedy underground of a divided, isolated city, hidden from public eyes.  That situation no longer exists.  Berlin the city has been transformed immeasurably as well since 1973.  

So what's left of "Berlin" the album, once the debauchery becomes routine?  It enters a sort of limbo between unintentionally amusing (in terms of its orchestration and production) and vapid, tossed-off shock rock (in terms of its artistic merit ... "ooh, he mentioned drugs and suicide again, this is deeeep").  It should be crushingly sad, but instead comes across as disingenuous and not to be taken seriously.     

Andy Rourke RIP, The Smiths Live at Irvine Meadows Amphitheatre June 29, 1985

Smiths bassist Andy Rourke passed away last weekend at the far too young age of 59.  I never cease to be amazed by how young the band was in their time.  Three-quarters of them were only nineteen when The Smiths made their first recordings.  Regarding Rourke's importance to the band, I think the debate over individual contributions to The Smiths (and rock groups in general) has long since been settled.  Singers and lead guitarists are often overrated, whereas rhythm sections are often underrated.  One of the many great things about the Smiths was the perfect musical synergy between its members, each instrument functions as a lead instrument yet blends perfectly into the whole.  Each part is intricate and complex, all the band members are equally busy, but nobody is showing off and trying to dominate over the others.  In the same era, Joy Division were like this, but New Order weren't, except at their very best.   The Stone Roses were like this on their debut album, but not afterwards.  

If there was a tragic figure in The Smiths, it was Rourke (either him or Morrissey, depending on whether you consider his alt-right turn to be tragic or simply a case of getting what he deserves after years of excuses).  His personal issues got him fired from the band, only to be brought back a couple of weeks later (in part, allegedly, because his parts were so difficult to play).  In court, he settled with Morrissey and Marr for a fraction of his true worth, sacrificing millions of pounds of back and future revenues from his singular work with the Smiths.  Morrissey might have trashed him in his court testimony, but he could have grabbed any number of session bassists for his early solo recordings.  He chose Rourke time and again.  The long-awaited reunion, the subject of endless discussion for over three decades, which I and countless others had assumed would eventually happen, never did.  

And that brings us to the ninth in a series of albums that I haven't heard in over twenty years, since the start of this blog in January 2000.  I bought a number of Smiths bootleg cassettes over the years, and this one is particularly famous for its encore, which showcases Rourke at his absolute best.  The audio recording can be heard here.

At this point in their career, The Smiths were a taut live ensemble, infusing a manic energy into their live shows in part thanks to a general quickening of the tempos compared with the studio versions.  The sound quality of this recording is poor, it's a standard audience recording likely done with a cheap tape recorder smuggled into the venue.  These recordings tend to swallow the mid-range treble, thereby ruining the clarity of Johnny Marr's guitar playing.  Morrissey's vocals seem to drift in and out occasionally.  But Rourke's bass playing and Mike Joyce's drumming are accentuated, shining through the hazy mess on several songs but particularly on "Hand In Glove", "Shakespeare's Sister", "Still Ill" (I never liked the studio version of this song, but on live recordings it was always a highlight), and "The Headmaster Ritual".  

I used to revisit this bootleg mainly for two reasons.  The first was the touching and elegant version of "Reel Around the Fountain" that closes the first encore.  It's always been one of my favourite Smiths songs and they rarely played it after 1984.  The second reason is the famous third (!) encore, featuring the final and longest ever live version of "Barbarism Begins At Home", stretched out for an astonishing sixteen minutes.  Marr does his best Nile Rodgers impression on guitar, and Joyce is a muscular machine on drums, but Rourke is the star.   Such impressive funk workouts were unheard of for The Smiths (especially considering Morrissey's infamously dismissive attitude toward all forms of dance music), so it's clear that we have Rourke to thank for this song being the monster that it is.   

Reviewing every Eurovision Song Contest Winner (1972, 1973)

1972.  Vicky Leandros, "Apres toi" (Luxembourg)

A workmanlike entry but nothing more, co-written by the same lyricist (Yves Dessca) who worked on the previous year's winning song ("Un banc, un abre, une rue"), perfectly passable but easily forgettable.  It expresses your standard "oh what will I do without you" sentiments, rendered even more flat and emotionless that it reads on paper owing to Leandros' lack of charisma and indistinctive voice.  At least the orchestra had a good day, unfortunately she's nearly drowned out by it throughout her "winning" performance.  3/10.   

1973.  Anne-Marie David, "Tu te reconnaitras" (Luxembourg)

We're deep into 70's soft rock balladry here, but David's performance is actually quite riveting.  With her piercing stares into the camera and soaring, powerful voice, she lifts the song to the level of a worthy winner.  Truly a moment for the perfect singer having a moment while making the most of a bland and featureless song.  This was one of the closest Eurovision finishes ever, with just six votes separating first place from third.  I have no idea how anyone could have preferred Spain's third-rate 5th Dimension (Mocedades) or the UK's post-post hippie rock (Cliff Richard) entries to this.  6/10.    

Reviewing every Eurovision Song Contest Winner (1970, 1971)

Eurovision is on, and I am back after a four year hiatus to continue (finally) with this project!

1970.  Dana, "All Kinds of Everything" (Ireland)

This was the first of Ireland's record seven wins (as of this writing).  The song is a mix of weepy 50's balladry and post-hippie dewy-eyed shlock.  France Gall and Serge Gainsbourg won in 1965 and provided Eurovision with more of a pulse, those years of excitement came to a crashing halt.  Even the ballads from the mid-to-late 60's, such as Frida Boccara's "Un jour, un enfant" from the previous year, tended to have an operatic fervor that jolted you out of your seat.  Dana's performance is perfectly competent but also somnambulantly boring.  4/10.  

1971.  Severine, "Un Banc, Un Arbre, Un Rue" (Monaco)

This is more Eurovision catnip about growing older and following one's dreams, nearly elevated into something special by Severine's fiercely committed performance.  The bombastic arrangement would have made the LA Wrecking Crew proud, although for me the four male backing singers add nothing and even subtract from the performance because their voices don't mesh with Severine's at all.  What little they add in harmonic depth is taken away by their distracting presence -- the visual impact of the performance could have been far more powerful by focusing it completely on the soloist.  A worthy, but flawed winner.  6/10.    

Gordon Lightfoot RIP

So many thoughts about Gordon Lightfoot ...

• "If You Could Read My Mind" just may be the greatest song ever written, and if it's not, it must be the most perfect song ever written.  There's not one iota of detail about it that you could dream of changing.  The melody, arrangement, vocal delivery, and lyrics are all impeccable.
• Some context regarding this famous, yet brutally awkward clip of Bob Dylan inducting him into the Canadian Music Hall of Fame.  Viewed in isolation, it might appear as though Dylan was confused and/or stoned and/or half-assing it on some low-budget Canadian awards show that he was reduced to appearing on during the nadir of his commercial and critical fame.  In fact, Dylan was never comfortable at award shows, he always appeared nervous, unrehearsed, and would stumble to find his words.  Eventually stopped going to these ceremonies altogether -- remember, he skipped his own Nobel Prize ceremony.  Nearly every Lightfoot obituary in the MSM contains at least one Dylan quote, his esteem for Lightfoot can't be questioned.  Dylan showed up in person to a ceremony not to receive an honour, but to honour someone else, this was a special moment and it speaks volumes about how Dylan felt about him.  
• I grew up seeing the mustachioed Lightfoot of the 70's and 80's, I think that it still most people's first association of him, since it coincides with his commercial peak.  But Young Lightfoot was suave and charismatic, with pop star good looks that could have translated to any era.  
• Who is the better lyricist, Dylan or Lightfoot?  They are often compared with each other, even though their styles are so different.  Dylan is a vocabulary wizard, his twisted turns of phrases and colourful imagery are uncopyable.  But Lightfoot was the master of capturing the feels, he could articulate nearly any human emotion and craft the experience into something more haunting and real than anything you have felt in your entire life.
• An underrated aspect of Lightfoot's lyrics: he could do both sides of heartbreak better than anyone.  Plenty of artists can write about getting one's heart broken, but Lightfoot could also write about those who break hearts ("For Lovin Me", "Go Go Round").
• I think Lightfoot reached his creative peak in the early 70's, as evidence, check out this 1972 performance on the BBC.  There has never been a better acoustic folk troubadour than early 70's Lightfoot.  But my first association with his music is symbolized by "Carefree Highway", for me, it's the sound of late 70's FM-ready soft rock in a nutshell.