by Howard Bilerman - engineer/producer Hotel2Tango studio
A
record is the sum of three parts: the songs, how the songs are
played, and how the songs are recorded. I have always felt that
the songs themselves are the most important variable, followed by how
they are executed. How they are recorded, to me, is the least
important variable of the three. This might seem like an odd
assertion from someone who records bands for a living, but no record
better proves this theory than the Velvet Underground's Live at Max's Kansas City.
Writing about music is incredibly personal, and to that extent, almost futile. What resonates with me, and why it resonates, is something that is not necessarily transferable to others. The best I can hope for here, is leading you, dear reader, to the proverbial water. If you like the taste, then high fives. The only way I can lead you to said water, is by explaining why this record holds a special place in my heart, and why I keep coming back to it for well over 20 years now.
First, some facts. This recording was made on a mono cassette recorder, by Brigid Polk, an associate of Andy Warhol, who taped it from the audience. It was recorded in 1970 as they were recording Loaded, and is apparently Lou Reed's last show with the band. The material was culled from two sets played that night, and was originally edited so side A had all the uptempo songs on them, and side B had all of the slower, more introspective songs. I say "originally," because a few years ago, this record was expanded & re-released on CD. To me, the newer version is far inferior to the original. It lacks the flow and arc of the original version, and if you are not familiar with this record, I highly recommend sourcing the original version for your first listen. And yes, it goes without saying that you should hear this on vinyl. To that extent, I'll continue with this "side A", "side B" stuff.
As
a teenager, I was a voracious collector of live bootlegs. This
was in the day of photocopied lists that people made of their
collections, some from half way across the world, where, with a
stamp, an envelope, a blank cassette and a few weeks of waiting, you
could have a recording of almost any concert you desired. Nothing
quite topped the subterranean experience of having something outside
of the mainstream…outside of commerce…and also something that
walked the fine line of the law. From the ages of 15 to 17, I snuck
a portable tape recorder into every show I went to, spending the
following week eq-ing it and editing it to fit on a C-90.
I never traded the shows I recorded, but I did play them for my
friends during high-school art class. It was like the aural
equivalent of going on safari, and bringing back an elephant tusk.
Around the time I turned 17, the hobby turned slightly more official, as I was asked by a friend to come record his band at a local club. Unknowingly at the time, this was the beginning of a 20+ years occupation of recording music. So tape deck and microphone in tow, I headed down and legally did what I had been doing under cloak and dagger for years, albeit still with incredibly limited means. When I first heard Live at Max's Kansas City, I felt like I was being invited into a secret world, but one that was incredibly familiar. This was the sound of a live recording. It was the anti-Kiss ALIVE. This is what a band playing in a small club sounds like, for real, complete with flubbed notes, and people around you talking during the set. Except the band playing isn't your average club band, it's "the (holy crap i wish i was there!) Velvet Underground," and the person talking next to you is Jim Carroll ordering a Pernod.
Some other facts: the drummer on this record was not Mo Tucker, but rather Billy Yule (editors note: brother of Doug Yule and only 16 at the time). This becomes readily apparent by the amount of rolls and fills being played. I had just started playing drums when i first heard this record, and to my 18 year-old ears something about it just sounded "right"….sloppy, but good sloppy. Combined with the fact that Lou Reed and Doug Yule sang all of Nico's vocals, and it sounded like a punk rock band covering the Velvets. Less art, more punk. Everything was louder, faster, and in many ways, more immediate; the best example of which is the closer of side A, "Beginning to See the Light." Simply, electric. I know Live 1969 is considered by many to be the holy grail of Velvets' live recordings, but in contrast, Max's makes that record sound polite.
The
fact that this recording predates the release of the song
"Sweet Jane" just blows my mind; such is the fact for any
iconic song I suppose. If you dig far enough back into history, you come to a point before the
song in question was released, and it is completely devoid of the
baggage of being legendary. As such, the audience just gets to
experience it as an anonymous piece of music. Imagine Dylan playing
"Like a Rolling Stone" before Highway 61 came out,
or John Lennon playing "Imagine" before it was released.
There is something about those songs that feel like they have been
with us forever. So, here
you have Lou Reed saying "this is a song called 'Sweet
Jane,' and literally one person claps. It throws the mind
for a loop. I can't help but wonder what the audience thought when
they heard that song for the first time and further down the line,
what did they think when they heard the version on Loaded
released a few months later? Did they feel it had lost some of
the incendiary quality it had on that night at Max's?
Side B proves that all of the slower songs translated live with the same intensity as their louder uptempo stuff.
I could go on about each specific song, but I really feel adverse to putting them under a microscope, or maybe I'm trying to dodge sounding like a music critic? In any case, I'm weary of taking this apart to see how it works, and I know the record's strength comes from the sum of it's parts, so let's cut to the sum.
Here
is a recording without any artifice. There has been absolutely
no intervention between what was coming off the stage that night, and
what we, the listener, hear. This record wasn't multi-tracked,
and then mixed later, having the levels and balances tinkered
with. The mix is dictated by the relative volumes of the
instruments on stage, combined with the PA in the room. Nothing was
close mic'd, giving a false sense of proximity. This is as close
to the authentic experience of hearing The Velvet Underground play
live as humanly possible. It's an honest-to-goodness document of a
great band playing great songs seemingly at the height of their
powers. It's a recording that isn't dated by a recording
aesthetic; it sounds timeless. There are virtually no cues to
date it by. The songs themselves contain nothing that peg them
as being 40+ years old. It sounds like it could have been
recorded yesterday, in the same way that it sounded like it could
have been recorded in 1988, the year I first heard it.
That fact has taught me so much about recording music in a studio; how I'd so much rather have records sound timeless, than "current." It's also taught me the merit of being transparent, to try to get out of the way, and let the music reach the listener without too much coloration from the process of being recorded. Let the focus of the recording be about the songs and the performance of them. It's very easy to dismiss this style of "documentary recording" as being passive and not taking full advantage of what can be done in studio with overdubs and limitless tracks. Ultimately, if we can learn anything about studio recording from a live record, it's that the sound of people playing music together is incredibly powerful and can't be faked, and Live at Max's Kansas City proves that to me, each & every time I hear it.
Howard Bilerman – June 2010
PS: Once you are done with this record, I highly recommend picking up Sam Cooke's Live at the Harlem Square Club, Townes Van Zandt's Live at the Old Quarter House, Leonard Cohen's Live Songs and Bob Dylan's 1966 Live at the Royal Albert Hall, which together with the Velvet's record, currently make up my top 5 favorite live records.
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Howard Bilerman is a musician, sound engineer & record producer who has been recording bands for the last 20 years. As co-owner of the hotel2tango recording studio in Montreal, Bilerman has enjoyed working with some of Canada’s most talented independent artists, as well as others from The US, The UK, France, Italy, Portugal and Australia. These include A Silver Mt. Zion, godspeed you! black emperor, The Arcade Fire, Thalia Zedek, Vic Chesnutt, Basia Bulat, Tiago Bettencourt, Lhasa de Sela, British Sea Power, Coeur de Pirate, the Webb Sisters, and the Dears. He recently finished recording Wolf Parade's forthcoming album Expo 86. He has been credited on over 300 records. Bilerman’s recordings have received international critical praise, ending up on several “best of the decade” lists in 2010, and the hotel2tango is seen by many as being at the center of Montreal’s independent musical community.
Bravo...Bravo....Bravo
VERY WELL SAID
Posted by: DAVID | 06/24/2010 at 01:23 PM