Throughout Lou Reed’s songbook, the man has always championed the underground, Velvet or otherwise. His recurring cast of characters – the junkies, hookers and other wounded city dwellers – has weathered the test of time, rising up from Reed’s gutter dreams to achieve mythic stature in rock ‘n’ roll history. Candy, Caroline, Lisa, Jim and, of course, Jane: We know them all.
But where so much of his work has stood out over the years, Reed’s most crushingly brilliant solo album, Berlin, has only grown in stature. Originally deemed a critical and (stateside) commercial disappointment in 1973, the loose rock opera stands out for its orchestral scope and pointed rearrangements of older Velvet Underground tunes.
On Berlin: Live at St. Ann’s Warehouse – the soundtrack companion to Julian Schnabel’s concert film, Lou Reed Berlin – Reed revisits the album in its entirety for the first time in his career. Aided by an air-tight seven-piece band and the Brooklyn Youth Chorus during a five-night run in December 2006, he fleshed out the sweeping tragedy in Berlin with ripping guitar solos and a healthy dose of melancholy.
The mounting depression doesn’t settle in as much as on the studio version of the album, which is probably just as well for the sake of the live document. Even the infamous “The Kids,” which still features grating samples of wailing children, doesn’t quite have the impact of its original recording. In exchange for some of the pain, we get a much clearer look at the songs.
With the original album producer, Bob Ezrin, and additional producer Hal Willner overseeing the musical direction, Berlin: Live jumps right out of the speakers. As the 10th Reed live album, it is without a doubt the crispest recording in the lot. The album brings the songs out of the oppressive shadows Ezrin and Reed constructed 35 years ago into a more muscular, reverberating mix. It’s a faithful revision done with the benefit of hindsight.
After a brief intro (a refrain borrowed from finale “Sad Song”) and the boozy “Berlin,” the opening chords of “Lady Day” tear through the hushed beginnings. Reed and his guitarist Stephen Hunter (who played on the studio Berlin as well) completely let loose on the brassy “How Do You Think It Feels” and in the soaring final stretch of “Sad Song.”
There’s a terrific balance struck between the baroque instrumentation and ragged guitar work, as on the sublime “Caroline Says, Pt. 1.” The track is no less beautiful than its studio counterpart, but the increased wattage really brings the piece to life.
Given the ambition of the Berlin album, it’s not entirely surprising how much the work opens up in a live venue. The album begs to not just be played, but interpreted in sequence for a live audience. More so than any other Reed solo album – except New York, maybe – each track hinges on the sum of the parts.
Much the same way The Who managed to transcend the hokier pitfalls of Tommy when belting out those songs, Reed and Co. maximize the grandeur of the performances without ever sounding too ridiculous. The music never hinges on the tragic tale of Jim and Caroline; the concept of the live album only determines the narrative.
This is certainly not Neil Young’s pompous flop Greendale, although the Berlin concerts did feature some production design and actors portraying Jim and Caroline. However, if the visual elements interfered at all with the focus of the live show, there is no such evidence on the soundtrack.
And to prove he’s still a good sport about playing the oldies, Reed goes for a couple of crowd pleasers after he wraps up Berlin. Antony Hegarty (of Antony and the Johnsons) leads a lovely rendition of one of the Velvet Underground’s finest, “Candy Says,” with Reed gradually joining in for a duet. The whole thing caps off with a celebratory “Sweet Jane,” presumably our (and the audience’s) reward for daring to brave the emotionally bruising main attraction.
Though it’s more accessible as a live album, Berlin still can’t be taken lightly. But with over three decades of perspective and experience, Reed has found joy in one of his saddest, most accomplished works.
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RATING: 4.5 out of 5 stars.
