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LOU REED
Perfect Night Live In London
Reprise
SWEET LOU TRIUMPHANTLY returns to the limelight with his recent
PBS American Masters profile and this snap-crackling live
acoustic show recorded at the Royal Festival Hall in London last
summer. Perfect Night, Reed's first live endeavor since
1984's import-only Live In Italy, sparkles with several
rarely heard tracks taken from such depressing and unheralded
'70s albums as Berlin and Coney Island Baby. For
all of Reed's decadent and self-indulgent excesses, check out
the sad, haunting version of "The Kids," addressing
unwed motherhood and parental neglect; and the profound "Coney
Island Baby," a tale of misguided youth yearning for acceptance
from anyone who'll notice. Not to disappoint those faithful fans
who have stuck beside him since he led mid '60s noise-rock mongers
the Velvet Underground, Reed brandishes such classic weapons as
the heart-wrenching VU ballad "I'll Be Your Mirror,"
and a bitter, funky version of "Vicious," originally
released on the David Bowie-produced Transformer (1972).
After 30 years, Reed has finally begun to appreciate the unfailing
adoration of his oft-neglected fans, delivering a knockout performance
of career-spanning hits and rarities with self-confidence and
genuine charisma. Two newly recorded tracks--the swinging raga-funk
rhythm of "Into The Divine" and the self-deprecating
self-examination of "Talking Book"--are taken from Time
Rocker, an off-Broadway musical collaboration with artist
Robert Wilson. Reed is a manifest virtuoso of many talents: an
American rock and roll treasure that still packs a powerful social
message.
--Ron Bally
TO ROCOCO ROT
Paris 25 (EP)
Trance Syndicate
IN THE TREND-conscious world of electronica, timing can be everything.
Both this EP and the debut long-player Veiculo were initially
released almost a year ago overseas. No matter. The music is bewitching,
even fascinating, if not in a dance or rave sense then certainly
in ambient and even psychedelic terms. As a German trio, the electro-Krautrock
roots are unashamedly on display, with occasional motorik rhythmic
pulses surfacing and often remaining implied underneath the surface.
The icy funk contrasts deliciously with the warmer, analog-dronepop
motifs that predominate. (Stereolab fans will warm to this.)
Blurp, blip, blorg, bliddle--groove on, Herr Rot! The sound is
still wildly experimental, however, harnessing the kind of vision
Aphex Twin had early on (before he fried his brain) and fusing
that vision to a rockist sensibility. The music doesn't sound
dated precisely because it touches on many genres and eras, and
because it has the confidence to throw everything into the blender.
--Fred Mills
IVA BITTOVA
S/T
Nonesuch
CZECH VOCALIST/VIOLINIST Iva Bittova's self-titled release starts
out promising enough: "Driv Nez," the opening track,
sounds like an earthier Enya singing over a spare violin melody.
It's quite beautiful, and then you come to a fork in the road.
If you go left, you embrace the avant-garde caterwauling she drops
into as if Nina Hagen had parachuted into the recording session.
If you go right, the shit just gets on your nerves. I'm not proud
to admit it, but I took a hard right. While there are many compelling
moments throughout this album, overall it's a frustrating mix
of traditional-based European melodies, indulgent noodling and
vocal squawking. Bittova is clearly talented--her string playing
is emotional and resonant and her voice is capable of great depth.
The production is sparse (often there's nothing more than her
voice backed by violin), lending a cathedral-like quality to the
sound that provides some appropriately haunting moments. On cuts
like "Ples Upiru" ("The Vampire's Ball")
all the elements gel nicely into an effectively evocative piece.
The fragile balance between Bittova's voice and instrument is
genuinely beautiful. Unfortunately, much of the album's mood is
spoiled by Bittova's frequent atonal vocal flights. Admittedly,
avant-garde music isn't for everyone; but at its best it challenges
our expectations and enlightens us to a new way of listening to
music. By inserting jarring, unrelated interludes into otherwise
coherent songs, Bittova may be challenging our perceptions but
it's not clear what she's leading us to. Instead of catching the
listener off guard, a pattern of alternating beauty and dissonance
begins to emerge that plays like forced adventure. Fans of Meredith
Monk and Yoko Ono may be more sympathetic and receptive to Bittova,
but others will fare better elsewhere.
--Sean Murphy
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