Nick CouryIt is Thursday around 7:30 p.m. when we enter the Performing Arts Center. The theater is nearly filled with spirited baby boomer couples reliving fond memories of their youth. Small chatter flows from the mouths of these fans who have lived the music of the legend they are here to see. A good amount of college students speckle the crowd that is full of gray hair and older faces. A roar erupts as the lights dim onstage.
At last, guitarist Lou Reed, violists and backup vocalist Rob Wasserman and Fernando Saunders take the stage. At 64, Reed is still hip and athletic, wearing a sleeveless brown T-shirt and jeans. The three musicians perform in front of projected images of city skylines alternating with blurry lines of shaky or smeared light. While the similar backgrounds soon become old, the different colored lighting for each song ribbons beautifully across the stage, often looking more like stretched tulle than light. The lighting, along with the heavily distorted guitars of Reed and the orchestra-esque vibe of the two electric violas give the Christopher Cohan Center a dream like appearance.
A few songs into the set, Reed speaks in a deep baritone voice, “his Nico impression,” as he begins to play “Femme Fatale,” a song from The Velvet Underground’s first album, “Andy Warhol.” Reed also plays songs from a record he released in 1990 with former Velvet’s member John Cale, as a tribute to the late-Warhol, including “A Dream.”
“(Songs for Drella) is an album about Andy Warhol. He’s a painter?” Reed said with a hint of condescending dry humor. Drella, Warhol’s nickname, is a combination of Dracula and Cinderella. “It’s a make-believe diary entry,” he said in a tone of remembrance.
Reed is definitely a musician first and foremost. His stylistic vocals are mostly spoken rather than sung, but his deep warbling voice still portrays a wide range of feeling. The music evokes a wide range of emotions, from touched to repulsed, confusion to admiration. “Baton Rouge” is one of the saddest songs. Reed dedicates it to the audience members who have been through a divorce, or are about to. Several couples in front of us snuggle closer together, as if to confirm this is not the case for them. The song tells the story of a man whose marriage crumbles:
“You wanted children and I did not / was that what it was all about? / You might get a laugh when you hear me shout / I wish I had.”
These lyrics are sung so genuinely that this tragic song is one of most touching of the night. On the other end of the spectrum, “The Rock Minuet” has a catchy tune, but the story and lyrics (ones I’m afraid I can’t repeat here) are extremely disturbing and describe some graphic images it will take a while to erase from my mind.
While one might be hesitant to call Reed a prima donna, he is definitely an artist. However, at his age and level of fame, he is allowed his idiosyncrasies. The audience sees past this and their love for Reed is apparent. They give him a standing ovation after the last song and remain standing, screaming and clapping until he and his band reappear onstage for an encore.
Beneath his gruff exterior and dry humor, which is continuously present during the banter between songs, it is easy to see he loves what he does, even after 40 years. Before the last song, cries of “I love you Lou” resound through the auditorium. He replies with, “Thanks, I love you too. Believe me, I drove three hours to get here!”
Nick Coury and Haley Stocking are freelance writers and can be reached at ncoury@gmail.com and hstockin@calpoly.edu.