LOU REED - Many Thorns, But Now, Also, Flowers - The Ritz, NYC, July 16, 1986

"This is the new improved, nice guy version of Lou Reed," Reed announced at his sold out Ritz gig, the kick-off for a major tour. Some people in the audience cheered, some booed. Both sides have a point.

No fan has the right to expect a performer to die for his art, or reduce himself to a semi-functional drug burnout.

But the questions remain: Do creative people who clean up their personal lives produce equally good work when sober and content? Is suffering a necessary prerequisite for great art?

Reed is only one of many rock and rollers to whom this applies. Is the post-methadone Johnny Thunders exuberantly rocking with the Uptown Horns better than the caustic Heartbreakers-era junkie? Is the now-sober great-wise-father-of-heavy-metal Ozzy Osbourne just as interesting as the biting-heads-off-bats alcoholic maniac?

Reed has obviously done some heavy thinking about all this, coming to terms with both himself and his audience. After successfully kicking drugs and alcohol, Lou Reed is still going strong at age 44, and 1986 is proving to be a big year for him. With his new and very accessible album, Mistrial hitting the Top 50, Reed is definitely back in business.

The New Lou is a definite break from the original jaded, angry, drugged-out, street-smart model of years gone by. To many die hard fans he has abandoned his roots to forge ahead in new, disappointing directions. His music no longer heralds the degenerate lifestyles and attitudes from the underbelly of society. From some fans comes the charge that Lou Reed should have packed it in or died years ago.

But Reed's new music is different as a result of genuine changes in his life, and he has always been unflinchingly honest, informing his audience with no holds barred about the current state of his existence. This constant soul-baring is at the core of his art, and few other performers in pop music come close to it.

Now, whatever his music has lost -- the sense of danger, eloquent obsession with death -- has been replaced with a joyful belief in the glory of love and an appreciation of life's simpler pleasures. The vicarious thrill seekers who flock to witness public self-destruction will be disappointed. Reed knows this and rightfully expresses his anger at those who will not allow him to change in the title cut from Mistrial ("I want a mistrial to clear my name, I want to bring my case to the people of New York City.") The only thing he can be faulted for is implicitly apologizing for his former attitude in the same song.

Reed's hostile, depressed, former persona produced some of best rock and roll in the genre's history. He has nothing to be sorry for, and should take the advice of another rocker, Joan Jett -- "I don't give a damn about my bad reputation."

Whatever his relationship with his past, the 1986 Lou Reed put on a hot show. Amidst shouts of "LOOOUU!" from the packed dance floor, he launched into a rocking "We're Gonna Have a Real Good Time Together," performed in the upbeat version included in the terrific Velvet Underground collection, VU/Another View, rather than the moody, disembodied (and not compelling) cut off Street Hassle.

Although the set consisted mostly of new material, Reed's pick of his classics ("Sweet Jane," Satellite of Love") purposely stuck with happier songs, omitting all of his druggie anthems. This was the part of Reed's change-of-attitude trade-off which was hardest to take; "Heroin," Waiting for My Man," and everything on the dark, brilliant Berlin record remains his very best work, and the thought that he will never perform those songs again is really sad.

Lou also seems overly fond of the mid-tempo, guitar-heavy sound featured on Mistrial, and tended to homogenize his old material into that style. This helped modernize some songs, but stripped others ("Street Hassle," "Vicious") of their original dynamics and punch.

Reed's new band (with long-time co-workers and co-producer Fernando Saunders on bass, J.T. Lewis on drums, Woody Smallwood on keyboards/synthesizer and Rick Bell on saxophone) understandably enough, also seemed more at home on his recent material, performing with a cleaner, more high-energy sound than on recent tours. For once, Reed handled all the guitar work himself, drawing attention to his long-underrated expertise as a lead guitarist.

The band was at its best on the tilt-a-whirl music rave-ups (like "I Love You Suzanne," "No Money Down") that comprise the bulk of his new sound, and on the ballads which express Reed's new-found happiness and optimism -- "New Sensations," "I Remember You" and "Tell It To Your Heart" (which could easily have been titled "Satellite of Love, Part 2").

The very best examples of Reed's new sound and attitude were "Turn To Me" and "Doing The Things We Want To," both from New Sensations. "Turn To Me" is a moving plea for love, trust and mutual support, ending with the amazing (considering where Reed used to be coming from) line: "remember, Lou Reed loves you."

"Doing The Things..." had a country hoedown feeling in its arrangement; the song itself is both an homage to fellow artists Sam Shepard and Martin Scorsese, and an anthem to personal freedom. As Reed commented, "that's the story of my life."

The story of his old life was remembered in one song which was also, somewhat ironically, the high point of the show: "The Last Shot" from Legendary Hearts. Reed has often said that he sees his songs as journalism, and this song's lyrics -- with "I shot blood at a fly on the wall" and "you always wish you knew it was your last shot" -- are chillingly accurate.

Lou's delivery on "Shot" was the most intense, compelling moment of the evening, with the feeling of someone who has been saved looking back at his demons. It was also the only number that even hinted at his former, legendary, intense, live performances. His old shows were adventures in self-destruction and abuse; they had a feeling of danger, like anything could happen. Reed could be any number of different personalities depending on which drug he was on at the time, frequently going off on long tirades about God-knows what, quenching the voyeuristic audience's thirst for vicarious cheap thrills.

The Ritz show climaxed with "Walk On The Wild Side" -- probably the only Top 10 record ever with pointed references to gay hustling, oral sex, hard drug abuse and transvestism. To a standing ovation Reed appeared for an encore comprised from four different albums/phases of his exceptional career: the poignant ballad "Legendary Hearts," "Spit It Out" from Mistrial, and the light-hearted "Down At The Arcade" from New Sensations.

He closed with the classic "Rock And Roll" from the Velvet's classic 1969 record, Loaded. "Rock And Roll" is the quintessential Lou Reed anthem of alienated middle-class youth whose "life was saved by rock and roll." The uplifting, and surely autobiographical song, like much of Reed's work, tells us something about ourselves on the most basic level -- it is, in essence, the story of us all.

That song could also be seen as Lou Reed's plea for release from his past, a better one than "Mistrial." Reed has been saved, then almost destroyed by rock and roll. It's now time to let him get saved by it again. More than anyone else in Rock history, Reed has paid his dues to his art. He deserves his new sense of peace and serenity.

Originally published in The East Coast Rocker on July 30, 1986

OLD SOLDIERS OF PUNK GREET THE FAITHFUL - The Ramones / The Ritz / November 7, 1986

Ten years and 10 blocks north of CBGB’s – the bar on the Bowery which first unleashed them onto an unsuspecting world – the Ramones came home and played the old neighborhood again.

In most respects they were an unabashed hit, welcomed in true conquering-hero style by the sold-out 2000-seat Ritz audience. Befitting the old soldiers that they are, their noise level and intensity rivaled that of the entire Meadowlands Arena’s recent return of their native son, Bon Jovi. The Ramones had the crowd in the palms of their hands before they even hit the stage. And the almost-middle-aged fathers of punk, hardcore and speed metal, with their hard-driving 1-2-3-4 tempos proved they can still dish it out and take it in classic punk style.

The Ramones are an American institution, not unlike Classic Coke. Serious rock music consumers, long familiar with countless imitators and off-shoots, know the real thing when they see it. Unfortunately, most other people still don’t. Although the sound and style that the Ramones literally invented has gone on to inspire hoards of global headbangers, they themselves remain small-timers within the music business, never getting their long overdue “big break.”

Part of this equation is the fact that the Ramones are yet another band that chose innovation over laughing all the way to the bank, and therefore have little money to place in the latter. Hence the constant touring. Even with a terrific live show that has gotten better and slicker as the years progressed, and a recent release, “Animal Boy,” which got a decent promotional push by Warner Brothers, they have still failed to make a dent in the charts.

Which is too bad, because the band definitely deserves someone’s lifetime achievement award, just for their dedication alone.

Instrumentally they were years ahead with their do-it-yourself low budget production and arrangements, sonically powered by their minimal, but orchestral guitars and bass. Coupled with their demented pop sensibility – kinda like the Monkees gone very, very wrong – and their blitzkrieg-like live delivery, the Ramones' sound became the punk standard – along with their ripped jeans, sneakers, T-shirts, and black leather jackets. According to legend, there was no punk in England until their 1976 gig at London’s Roundhouse. After that gig, there were bands on every block almost overnight, with everyone from the Clash to Sid Vicious & the Sex Pistols emulating their divine inspiration in both appearance, musical sound and attitude.

But the raw, revolutionary feeling that originally made the Ramones a special band is no longer there. Not because the band has changed that much, but because music in general has. These punk rock “Johnny Appleseeds” from Forest Hills Queens seem safe and tame today in comparison with some of their proteges in-arms, both good (Cro-Mags, Murphy’s Law, Megadeath) and bad (Die Kruezen, Discharge). Where the Ramones were once seen as dangerous street-wise outsiders in a music business made of Fleetwood Macs and Peter Framptons, today they are regarded as almost clean-cut professionals, playing homogenized punk rock.

The Ramones were an integral part of the major industry changes that Punk brought to rock and roll. They opened the door to the unknown, but were left outside in the mad rush that ensued – a fact which might make a real Ramone shrug and crack open another beer. Unlike the dark, self-analytical nature of many of their musical offspring, Joey & Company remain unassuming party animals to the end, like punk Peter Pans who still find fun in the toys of their youth.

Their Ritz performance was appropriately introduced by their hilarious video, “Something To Believe In” – an ultra-spoof of the recent rash of charity benefit concerts like “Live Aid” and “Hands Across America.” With their own “Ramones Aid” appeal “Hands Across Your Face,” their brilliant fake promo was complete with guest celebrity pitches (Weird Al Yankovic, Berlin, X), a “We Are The World” superstar sing-a-long, and soppy, sentimental camera work, playfully reminding us that in Ramonesland nothing is sacred, except of course, the Ramones.

Ten years is a long time to retain a “have-to-use-only-three chords-because-we-can’t-play-any-better” sound, and the Ramones are much more technically competent these days. They also seem to have borrowed more than a little from the high energy commercial metal market (a la the zany Ratt/David Lee Roth school of rock).

Their grand entrance, to the accompaniment of a marching band drum beat, with volumes of billowy smoke illuminated by multi-colored spotlights, was more reminiscent of the start of a Motley Crue show than the Ramones’ own classic no-frills gigs at CBGBs – as were guitarists Johnny and Dee Dee’s rockstar risers at each end of the stage. The Metal connection was further emphasized by the Ramones loud, loud collection of Marshall stacks, which has greatly expanded their sonic output over the years to ear-splitting levels. And while mechanical dragons, robots and other stage extravaganzas are still way beyond the Ramones’ financial reach (and probably taste), they did their best with a light show that was almost as frantic as the band themselves – and reflected their same “fuck you” punk sensibility by flashing directly into the audience, causing one to emerge from their show blind as well as deaf.

The group played a standard set of new-album-plus-energized-old-hits (among them “Blitzkrieg Bop,” Rock ‘n Roll High School,” “Sheena is a Punk Rocker” and “Lobotomy”), all with a much slicker version of the explosive, stripped-down punk energy that has kept them going for years.

The songs are still the same power-packed hook-laden three minute masterpieces of pop that they always were, performed with the appropriate amount of sound and fury. Their comic book approach to life is also still prevalent, along with their strange absurdist sense of humor – the very same attitude that created such punk classics as “I Wanna Be Sedated,” “Cretin Hop,” “Beat on the Brat” and “Gimme Gimme Shock Treatment.”

Their famous “Gabba Gabba Hey” picket sign made its expected appearance during “Pinhead” towards the climax of the set, and was temporarily kidnapped by one of the many youthful stage-divers who engaged in a war of sorts with the on-stage bouncers, who for some reason were insistent about preventing people from jumping than at most Ritz shows (higher than usual insurance premiums perhaps?)

The Ramones kept their fast and furious guitar onslaught in high gear throughout the set and their multiple encores, which included more greats like “Rockaway Beach,” “Do You Wanna Dance,” and the Johnny Thunders co-creation, “Chinese Rocks.”

The Ramones are, and always will be the original archetypal punk band, and like other innovators and originals (Chuck Berry, Bo Diddley, Motorhead) they unfortunately seem destined to keep on slugging it out on the road forever, while generic one-hit-wonders hit the jackpot overnight, cashing in the current trends. But in the eyes of the forever faithful, myself included, just having the Ramones around is definitely something to be thankful for.

This review originally published by The East Coast Rocker on November 26, 1986.