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Rating: In Berlin, near the wall, a record was born almost 40 years ago, and perhaps also a story, definitely a legend was born: that of "Berlin," Lou's third solo album after parting from the Velvets. Released in 1973 and with Bob Ezrin as the producer (who went mad at the end of the work, telling Lou to lock the tapes in a drawer and not to release them), it was a commercial and critical failure, a real flop: Sparse, sad, heavy, and without any relevant singles, "Berlin" was the exact opposite of the previous "Transformer," so it naturally met the opposite fate.
"Berlin" is truly an abstruse and complicated work, a thick fog and a bottomless pit, narrating one of the simplest and most banal things in the world: a love story gone wrong, that of Caroline and Jim. This work was broadly re-evaluated not long ago, turning it into a pillar of Reed's solo career, a myth for all the fans, a sacred text in the history of concept albums. A fascinating story never fully brought live to a stage until 35 years later. Perhaps the material was too difficult to stage, the music, the story too delicate, and Lou needed a lot of experience: in fact, Lou, now in his sixties, calls on this occasion the great guitarist Steve Hunter and musicians of the caliber of Rob Wassermann, more loyal members of his live shows, and finally gathers the Brooklyn Youth Chorus as the choir.
The result is a proof of love toward music and poetry, in one of the most heartfelt concerts history remembers. He almost seems moved when he describes Caroline's suicide or her daughters being taken away.
A simple and dry work, the likes of which have not been seen for decades, without musical or visual baroques. Except for those yellowish lights present throughout the live performance, reminiscent of "greenish walls" of Berlin: everything else is Lou Reed.
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