PicoBlog

It took me decades, but I finally purchased a copy of The Velvet Underground’s Live at Max’s Kansas City, and what I got is the recent reissue (2016) of this magnificent 1972 release. The album was recorded on a cassette recorder from a show in 1970 by the legendary Brigit Polk (a.k.a. Brigid Berlin), a long-term Warhol associate. I have heard that the male voice on the tape between songs is either Jim Carroll (which I think is true) or perhaps the painter/poet/writer Rene Ricard. Clearly, print the legend type of situation here, but it is also part of the romance that is this album.

As a record-buying and music geek follower, the Velvets had a mystique during and after they split up. The album also presents Lou Reed’s last performance with the band, and it is told that his father was waiting for him after this performance and took him back to the family home, where Reed gave up his music dreams. And I’m not even sure if that is true, but the narration is magnificent, and again, the album's backstory becomes as essential as the great music on this double vinyl. One thing for sure is that we are missing the mystique that one could purchase with your record. The Glam era loved the legend more than the reality, and The Velvets were very much the engine that ran that tale because of the presence of David Bowie and others who drank that delicious poison.

There are fifteen songs, and this album edition is the entire show that night of August 23, 1970. I was fifteen when this album and performance took place, and at my height of fantasy and desire, the Velvets had held a hand over my heart and brain. At the time, there were hardly any photos of Lou and the gang, and I wonder what they wore that night when they did this set. If I had the budget (or talent), I would love to direct a theatrical piece based on this night. I would get actors playing the Velvets on Max’s stage and in the audience. I want to ensure that their clothing is the same, including everyone from the kitchen help to where Brigid and Jim are sitting. Wouldn’t that be magnificent?

The drumming by Bill Yule is a tad busy. But I love the sound of the guitars and the doo-wap overtures, such as in the song Candy Says, which I think is the basis for many Lou / Velvet songs. Lou and Sterling Morrison’s guitar work merge into each other, and Doug Yule’s backup vocals are sweet and add to the potent cocktail of the songs. The eleven-minute Some Kinda Love is a New York version of a swampy, almost drone, Tony Joe White feel. But my favorite cut here is New Age, with the additional ending of what I’m presuming is Sterling’s guitar solo, which is Wagneristic, as in magnificent. I have heard numerous versions of this song, both studio and live, and the Max’s is the best. It is such a beautiful song, and the elegance of the arrangement about to fall apart brings out a more intense beauty.

By coincidence, I simultaneously purchased Charlie Parker’s Bird in L.A., a collection of rough-sounding recordings done in clubs and even at a wild party. The place is as important as the music. And that is what is essential for a live album. I never liked the album, a Frankenstein monster of a recording where bits and pieces taken from everywhere are put together as a live album. In many ways, Max’s Kansas City is very much part of the performance, which is grand.

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