Cover Photo: Guido Harari
Photo: Bill Berger — Jane L. Wechsler — Roberta Stacy
Coming off the terrifying tales of Edgar Allen Poe through the cobwebbed catacombs of the spooky storyteller’s short stories and poems, as based on his 2000 opera co-written with Robert Wilson, “POEtry,” Reed strung together a creepy conceptual album called “The Raven” in 2002/2003, just a year before he performed a sensational set at the Wiltern Theatre in LA in late June of ‘04. His band consisted of Mike Rathke (electric & acoustic guitar, Ztar synthesizer, guitar synthesizer), Fernando Saunders (electric and acoustic bass, Roland drums, guitar, backing vocals, vocals on "Tell It to Your Heart" and "Reviens Cherie," scat on "Sunday Morning"), who played with Reed off and on for many years, Jane Scarpantoni on cello, and, of course, Anohni of the highly influential Anohni and the Johnsons. This breathtaking performance carefully captures Reed as he entered the last decade of his career and lifelong pursuit of poetic perfection. Located at the western edge of Koreatown, at the southeast corner of Wilshire Boulevard and Western Avenue, the Wiltern Theatre is a 12-story, 155-foot Art Deco landmark adjoined by the Pellissier Building; construction began in 1930 and was completed in just a year. As the oval overhead lights buzz with endless anticipation, the performers take the stage. The building is a living organism as the seats fill with warm bodies, their heads spinning from the nerves’ never-ending quest to push the blood from one side of the brain to the other; this will be a perfect night. You can feel the tension throughout the hallways and atmospheric aisles as melodic memories of the prolific past begin to evaporate like spiritual smoke into the ribboned rafters, where the venue’s ghosts lurk, free admission, mind you. Reed was in a good mood that night, it was reported, and while this detail is as important as many others that have mastered fans and critics over the years, we’ve all grown up together. He opened the night with a two-minute monologue called “Advice,” then teased the iconic intro to “Sweet Jane” before pulling the plug on the melody machine, explaining, “As with most things in life, it’s the little hop at the end.” Knocked out cold by New York’s prince of darkness, the audience loved the artistic abuse, and Reed was ready to give it to them.
Photo: Bill Berger — Jane L. Wechsler — Roberta Stacy
From the Reed/Cale catalogue came “Smalltown,” then a “Berlin” classic "Men of Good Fortune" before taking off into the heavy vegetation of one of the most captivating and complex careers in music history. One can only imagine the spiritual static of that room as cars, people, and the endless business of society roared outside the venue’s walls; for an hour and a half, Reed had everyone locked in his strong gaze, and the band was ready for battle. The night before, Barry Bonds and the San Francisco Giants stole second base against the LA Dodgers, becoming the first player in MLB history to hit 500 home runs and steal an equal number of bases. The City of Angels has its demons, and Reed stood tall and creatively confident between the two as the set shifted from one masterpiece to the next. From “The Day John Kennedy Died" to the spiritual serenade of “Street Hassle,” with that absolutely gorgeous cello from Scarpantoni vibrating the entire building, the band played its first Velvet Underground songs, a ten-minute meditation on “Venus in Furs,” before crash landing into one of New York’s timeless tracks, “Dirty Blvd.” By now, you should have already thrown disc two into your Durabrand multi-deck, or found side D on the 2018 triple-LP release. Whatever your poison, the sonic story must continue, and the audience/listeners are in for a real treat. Back-to-back Velvet tunes came crashing down like an atmospheric avalanche with no end in sight before Reed returned to the familiar flight of “Call On Me” and the title track from “The Raven,” which featured his lovely wife Laurie Anderson on the studio version. How have you been far in this endless ecstasy of biblical bliss and existential experience? I forgot to ask earlier in the night, but naturally assumed you were locked in Reed’s vampiric gaze. We’ve got a couple of songs left, and it’s going to be an ocean of emotions. Can you handle it? Anohni, who went by Antony at the time, was holding down the harmonies all night, but something breathtaking and magnificent happened during the performance of “Candy Says,” and Reed knew it as he revealed a transcendental truth through that rare emotion with a soft smile.
Photo: Bill Berger — Jane L. Wechsler — Roberta Stacy
As the song zeroed in on the duets that stretched across its lyrical landscape, the two were in perfect harmony while hidden tears fell to the floor, evaporating under the heavy glow of stage lights. Was God in the room that night? No, seriously, I’m asking for a friend. The night ended on a razor-sharp version of the 1967 opus “Herion” before the lights returned to their original settings, and the theatre’s controlled climate settled back down to Earth where it had been absent all night. Jesus Christ, what just happened? You know it’s been over a decade since Reed passed? Thirteen years on the 27th of this month, to be exact. God bless you, Lou.
