Lou Reed
Ecstasy

It's almost 8 PM in Sogliano al Rubicone, a small village tucked away in the hills of the Rimini province. The view, with a stunning sunset, is breathtaking, but most of the people crowding the small historic center don't pay attention. The whole town has been overwhelmed by people who probably never even heard of it until now. On the sides of the streets, vendors have arrived a couple of hours ago with white t-shirts featuring a yellow banana printed on them... the crowd is gathered entirely in front of Piazza Matteotti, but can't access it due to the barricades. Everyone is holding a ticket.

It's 8 o'clock, and people can slowly start entering. The small square is occupied by a stage set up for the occasion, numerous rows of chairs in front of the stage surrounded by barricades, and a ring of standing spots encircling everything. Minutes pass, and the square slowly begins to fill up. It's 9 o'clock; the evening's event should start now, but the square isn't even half full. The organizers and security staff begin to show signs of nervousness; minutes pass, and people keep arriving, maybe with pizza and beer in hand ("idiots -I start thinking to myself- show some respect and take a seat, damn it"). By 9:40, I'm seriously cold, sitting on my little chair, seat number 220, perfectly centered and facing the stage, I begin to shiver. A bit from the increasingly biting cold ("damn me! why did I bring such light clothes???") and a bit from the growing anger: the security staff keeps shouting that photos and video/audio recordings are prohibited ("go to hell, you big ape, I paid 60 euros, can't I even take a little picture without flash???") and many of those who booked seats are still standing doing as they please ("I swear I'll kill them...").

It's almost 10 PM, and suddenly the streetlights go out, plunging the square into darkness. A roar rises from the crowd, and those still standing rush to find their place ("Well done, now you run, huh? I hope someone took your spot"). Musicians begin to step onto the stage, seven in total, plus some technicians. Each musician takes his place; the crowd's roar continues to grow; I scan the stage looking for the man I've been waiting to see for months. I'm Waiting for the Man has never been more appropriate than on this occasion. From backstage, finally, He arrives: Lou Reed steps onto the stage, walking slowly, almost staggering. He's wearing a black t-shirt, a pair of jeans, a huge metal necklace around his neck. His face is marked by the wild years spanning from the Warhol Factory era to the end of the '70s, before his "redemption"; a pair of prescription glasses have replaced the sunglasses, his features growing more pronounced with age. He seems much older than his 69 years.

Finally, I see live the man who founded the Velvet Underground, the poet of rock, he who has walked through the hell made of electroshock and the worst drugs and emerged full of scars yet still alive, and now he's ready to turn this hell into rock'n'roll, as he always has, as he always will. And it's what he did on that evening of July 23, 2011, in Sogliano al Rubicone, a tiny Romagnolo village: he turned the hell of his past into Rock'n'Roll and cast it violently upon his audience, with immense power, which every young contemporary artist can only dream of because his way of doing Rock'n'Roll has yet to be understood and certainly (unfortunately) will leave with him.

What sense does it make to look for new bands and new young rockers when there's still Lou Reed who, with 3, oh no, sorry! 4 chords can encapsulate all the Rock every enthusiast might need? What's the point in crying over and celebrating Jim Morrison, who's been gone for 40 years, when Lou Reed is still alive and active, and even today, just like 40 years ago, would surely give him a run for his money? And yet, some missed him this summer, despite the 8 Italian concerts and... well, I'm really sorry for those who missed him, because they missed the greatest, the best. Because after 45 years of career, after the honors and glory, and despite the criticism and illness that afflicts him, Lou Reed doesn't retire (as he would have every right to) and decides to continue touring because after all, he still has a rock'n'roll heart.

Lou Reed isn't a worn-out David Bowie, who wore a mask throughout his career, then took it off and retired; Lou Reed never needed masks, never pretended. Lou Reed has always been himself. Nothing less and nothing more. Even this evening, Lou Reed was himself. The musicians start with the first note of the concert, he violently stops them with a wave of his hand and addresses the audience "I want to dedicate this show to Amy Winehouse" and then into "Who Loves The Sun" straight from "Loaded," the fourth Velvet Underground album, never performed live by Lou solo. It follows "Senselessly Cruel" from 1976, during which Lou alternates singing parts with greetings towards his audience... such a beautiful version of this piece he didn't even do 35 years ago. Marvelous.

Freely follows the evening's real surprise: "Leave Me Alone", performed only on this tour date, incredibly intense, extremely rock'n'roll, with perfect choruses. Pure Rock, Pure Lou Reed. This initial rock'n'roll segment is followed by a decidedly more experimental and avant-garde part: it kicks off with a rousing "Ecstasy" from the 2000 album (one of the best), during which Lou engages in a delightful duet with drummer Tony "Thunder" Smith, continues with "Street Hassle", performed in all its 3 parts, full of solos and with great work by Tony Diodore on violin. It all concludes epically... the version of "Venus In Furs" performed doesn’t make you miss the Velvet ones, and I'm not kidding: distortions, oppressive melody, excellent work on percussion and bass. Masterpiece.

With the central part closed, the acoustic part begins, the most intimate of the concert, with voice and guitar versions of two of the greatest classics ever: "Sunday Morning" with a dedication to Amy Winehouse in the lyrics (there's a video on YouTube) and "Femme Fatale". Pure poetry. Then again the real rock, the reason why everyone was there. "Waves Of Fear" from the album "The Blue Mask," always powerful. "I Want To Boogie With You", indescribable, truly. Ulrich Krieger's perfect sax, the choruses, the guitars... a dream. Then an instrumental intro, so famously known, so familiar... yet it sounds strange, it seems re-adapted... it's.. oh dear... this comes from Rock'n'Roll Animal, this is "Sweet Jane"... I'm not disappointed; finally, a Sweet Jane version that makes sense to exist, closes a perfect concert.

Three different Lou Reeds this evening: the rocker, the experimentalist, and the poet. What more could you ask for? Simple: the encores. Ignoring the shouting of the security gorillas, we all rise en masse, we vault over them, and we're all under the stage calling for Lou to come back on... and he does. "Charley's Girl": rock'n'roll, to dance, to unleash... simple rock'n'roll, but we love it. "The Bells", perhaps his most beautiful song ever, experimental, avant-garde, very long, with a stunning text. A definitive closure with a new acoustic moment, this time it's "Pale Blue Eyes", the most beautiful love song of all time. I'm so close to him that besides taking a seafull of photos ("screw the organizers"), I manage to catch every expression on his face, even when he puffs, irritated for not being able to finish the last verse of the piece as he wants.

The concert ends (this time for real) Lou leaves and leaves us with an indelible memory in our hearts: he's seen the birth of rock, he's always played rock... on this small great evening, in this remote hamlet, Lou Reed showed his audience what rock means to him, and I'm truly sorry for those who criticize him, I'm truly sorry for those who consider him a has-been. You don't know what you missed. Here comes Lou Reed Baby. Thanks to the whole band: Aram Bajakian on guitar, Tony Diodore, guitars and violin, Kevin Hearn on keyboards and guitars, Rob Wasserman on bass, Tony Thunder Smith on drums, Sarth Calhoun on computers, and a special thanks to Ulrich Krieger. If anyone has the bootleg of the evening, please share it; good music is not meant to stay in a drawer.