Lou Reed

Lou Reed

They got it backward. The single disc-edit of The Raven, Lou Reed heavy metal riffing on "Edgar Allan Poe" ("not exactly the boy next door ..."), should have collected all the spoken-word theatre on the "limited edition" 2-CD issue rather than siphoning off the "music." After all, "The Conqueror Worm," opening the latter, sets the stage for The Raven, screen God Willem Dafoe spitting out angry prose while producer/sorcerer Hal Willner (Stay Awake: Interpretations of Vintage Disney Film and Weird Nightmares: Meditations on Monk) unleashes the mongrel guitar of hellhound Reed. Quoth: "This motley drama, to be sure, will not be forgotten. A phantom chased forevermore, never seized by the crowd, though they circle, returning to same spot. Circle and return to the self-same spot. Always to the self-same spot, with much of madness and more of sin and horror and mimic rout the soul of the plot. Out, out are the lights." On comes the "Overture." And Steve Buscemi, Kate and Anna McGarrigle, Amanda Plummer, Ornette Coleman, and the Blind Boys of Alabama. Reed's wraparound originals are mostly vaudeville, which is to say laughable, save for a thoughtful duet with partner Laurie Anderson ("Call on Me"), the barfly ruminations/orchestrations of "Vanishing Act," and the explosive yearning of "Who Am I (Tripitena's Song)." The phosphorous "Fire Music" and comedown closer "Guardian Angel" are lethal. That few of Lou's odes are as Poe-tic as "The Fall of the House of Usher" and Dafoe's canny reading of the title track, or for that matter, "Imp of the Perverse," the perversely funny, chilling "The Cask," and haunting "Annabel Lee/The Bells," all done "Mystery Hour" radio style, is madness, sin -- horror. Then again, Basil Rathbone, who mastered Poe on vinyl 40 years ago, would flash his predator smile upon hearing Dafoe defy this inspired mess. Circle and return to the self-same spot.

(Raven)

(Raven limited edition)