By: David Schultz

As the Brooklyn indie scene continues to thrive, that of its neighboring borough, New York City, has been in a continual state of flux. Over the last couple years, many of the storied venues that have been intimately associated with the Manhattan musical landscape have closed their doors making longevity a hard fought commodity. Defiantly, the HighLine Ballroom opened as the centerpiece of the wholesale renovations to the increasingly upscale Meat Packing District with much fanfare and a David Bowie curated festival to commemorate the new High Line District. In what everyone can only hope will be an annual Spring ritual, the City’s native son Lou Reed returned to the building he opened a little more than a year ago to celebrate the HighLine’s first anniversary.

The recently married singer/songwriter/legend was in good spirits for his two hour set, leading a band consisting of guitarists Steve Hunter and Mike Rathke, drummer Tony “Thunder” Smith, bassist Rob Wasserman, electronicist Sarth Calhoun and keyboardist Kevin Hearn. Since returning to the fold to participate in Reed’s Berlin shows, Hunter whose guitar work can be found all over Reed’s early 70s recordings, has reconnected with the mercurial rocker and somewhat supplanted Fernando Saunders, Reed’s longtime sideman. Reed’s typically strong band keeps him focused, especially on his older material. Out of a sense of boredom or simply forgetfulness, Reed often pays little attention to the cadence of his lyrics within any particular song. Longtime fans have become accustomed to Reed missing cues, quickly zipping through his vocals or just reciting his urban poetry along with the beat drumming inside his own head as opposed to the one behind him. The fact that it doesn’t seem to bother him one iota is what makes Reed the revered iconoclastic performer who has baffled and bewildered his fans for decades.

Reed never tailors his shows towards his audience predilections; you would be simply insane if you ever expected him to play a greatest hits show. At the HighLine, Reed offered a nice mixture of his hits along with lesser known tracks like “Guardian Angel” and a newer song “Power Of The Heart,” likely inspired by the new Ms. Reed, Laurie Anderson. Early in the set, Reed touched on his old Velvet Underground days with an uptempo version of “Sweet Jane” and a melodious version of “I’m Set Free.” Boasting a bit that he had a song in the indie-darling movie of the year, Juno, he playfully – well, at least as playful as Reed gets - shared vocals with Kevin Hearn on “I’m Sticking With You.”

Reed, who played the whole night in a slightly billowing leather shirt, made his only overtly political statement before New York’s “Halloween Parade.” Noting that the song was written about his many friends who are no longer here because they died of AIDS, Reed expressed his dismay that our country thinks nothing of spending millions of dollars to kill people overseas but hesitates over making the same investment to save them at home before dedicating the song to making sure that we have a new regime come the next election. That there will be a new regime regardless of what transpires this November did nothing to dilute the poignancy of the eloquently written tune.

Known for his gritty, direct lyrics, Reed and the Velvet Underground are often overlooked for their masterful live performances. Although they are never thought of in that regard, the Velvet Underground were one of New York’s earliest jambands. While the Grateful Dead, The Doors and other psychedelic West Coast bands were creating the musical blueprint from which lengthy explorative interpretations would be built, Reed, John Cale, Sterling Morrison and Maureen Tucker (as well as Doug Yule) were working the repetitive beats that would ultimately inspire legions of alternative rock bands for years to come. If you have any questions about the Velvets ability to jam, just listen to any version of “Sister Ray” from the Quine Tapes.

Reed’s ability to find a rhythm worth repeated reaped great dividends with his featured guest, saxophonist John Zorn. Since first playing with Zorn at Town Hall as part of the 20th Anniversary Celebration of the Knitting Factory, the innovative saxophone player has been a fixture at Reed’s New York performances. There are few musicians more gifted than Zorn in filling musical spaces and Reed’s compositions leave lots of room for improvisation. He brought an added depth to the often-plodding “Ecstasy,” an edgy uneasiness to “Magic & Loss” and a smoothness to the “Video Violence,” a song Reed resurrected from his overlooked Mistrial album.

The encore was a nod to two of his more recognizable hits: “Satellite Of Love” and “Walk On The Wild Side.” After a restrained start to “Satellite,” Reed, Hunter and Zorn built the song to a wild final crescendo and Zorn restored a sense of suave authenticity to a pounding version of “Wild Side.” For someone who has spent a large part of his career refusing to be censored, Reed surprisingly edited his most famous song: the chorus of “Walk On The Wild Side” is now just sung by “the girls.” Reed may have made one concession to political correctness but it was his only departure from the incisive vision that has kept him interesting and worth paying attention to for the past four decades.

Labels: Lou Reed