Notes

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This mono audience recording is very poor quality.
Unfortunately, the Old Grey Whistle Test recording is barely listenable


track 15: BBC TV Old Grey Whistle Test: interview by "whispering" Bob Harris, broadcast 26 September 1972 (?) 7.43


Lou Reed: guitar, vocals
Vinnie Laporta: guitar
Eddie Reynolds: guitar
Bobby Resigno: bass
Scottie Clark: drums

After the 2 initial dates at the King's Cross Cinema (14th and 28th July), Lou and the Tots played a few more dates in and around London before Lou hit the studio in August to start recording "Transformer" with Bowie and Ronson. Recording complete, he and the Tots then went out on a "proper" tour in September and this show at the Edmonton Sundown was one of the first of that tour. This is a fine, enthusiastic performance by Lou. His vocals are good, his voice holds up well, and the band are nice and tight. There are no songs from "Transformer" - presumably the Tots haven't learned them yet. It's hard to tell on this poor recording, but he's quite talkative between some of the songs - he announces "Heroin" as "for the guys out front"....

This show was reviewed (quite differently!) in both "Melody Maker" and "Sounds".

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Lou Reed/Edmonton
by Charles Shaar Murray
"Songs And Secrets From The Phantom Of Rock", read the blurb on the posters, and for once, it seemed accurate. Lou Reed is not the most wraith-like of individuals, but onstage his presence is unbelievable. With his black clothes and livid make-up, he looks like a dead cert for the projected gay re-remake of "Frankenstein".
His band are vastly more together than they were when they debuted at King's Cross Cinema, and the two lead guitarists got off some amazing stuff as Lou minced and sneered his way through "White Light White Heat", "Lonesome Cowboy Bill", "Sweet Jane" (the original, he said), "I'm Waiting For The Man", "Venus In Furs", "Berlin", "Walk And Talk It" and sundry other delicacies. He encored with a brutal version of "Heroin".
The only slightly false note was struck by the bass player, who certainly looked gorgeous in his white suit and exquisite make-up, but who ponced about a bit too much for comfort, particularly as he had to stop picking while he pranced. His absurdity was highlighted by his pathetic attempts to steal Lou's stage, and nobody steals Lou's stage unles sthey're Joseph Stalin - or David Bowie.

New Musical Express, London, 07 October 1972

NOTE: despite Mr Shaar Murray's report, I am 100% certain that "Venus In Furs" was NOT played at this show!

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Broken Reed?
by Richard Williams
The fact is that his association with David Bowie has done Lou Reed no good at all. Despite the adulation from the audience at Edmonton's Sundown Theatre on Friday night, the massive flaws in Reed's performance were readily apparent.
The Bowie/Reed axis is a clear case of the guard's van coming before the locomotive. A true original (Lou) shouldn't need the patronage of a second rate plagiarist (Bowie), and it's sad that the vagaries of public taste and the music business have put the Long Islander in such an invidious position.
It becomes rapidly more apparent that Bowie and his manager, Tony DeFreis are using Lou, just as they've used Mott The Hoople and as they will use Annette Peacock, simply to enhance Bowie's status as a kind of cultural vortex around which the whole rock world spins.
Reed's undue respect for Bowie (and for Bowie's success) doubtless explains what was wrong with Friday night. For a start, his stage persona is unconvincing. He seems to feel that he must do the unexpected: people think he's bizarre, so he must act bizarre (white-powdered face, black lipstick, Monroe wiggles, and silver high heels which forced him to totter on and off-stage like a sad, ageing whore.
It also forced him to play "Heroin" for an encore - something which his personal convictions prevented him from doing only a couple of years ago. But the crowds at Edmonton shouted for it, and he produced a version which was a travesty of the original.
Reed's uniqueness used to lie in the paradox between his songs and his personal stance. All he needs to do is stand there and sing - the rest is distracting decoration which reduces him to the level of ephemeral "stars" like Bowie.
Parts of his set were very good. He offered no new songs, and the compositions from "Loaded" tended to come off best: "Head Held High" was an excellent display of taut, heavily arranged, thoroughly exciting rock'n'roll, and "New Age" was at least performed with some respect for its character.
Unfortunately, Reed allows his band - The Tots - too much freedom at times, and the extended guitar solos were the very antithesis of what he's about, contradicting all the careful writing and fine, synchronised endings.
He shouldn't do "Berlin" live (he simply cant reach many of the notes), but "Going Down" and "Ride Into The Sun" fared well. Somebody, though, should nail the bass guitarist's feet to the floor: that gentleman's posturing is quite egregious (and if you're going to play in a rock band, you shouldn't wear a scarf that gets in the way of the strings).
Maybe it wasn't as bad as I've made it sound, but Lou ought to do something about it before his hard-earned reputation is destroyed. It's not a question of bolstering a myth - just of being natural, and realising potential.
His cause wasn't assisted by the most obnoxious disc-jockey I've ever witnessed. Jerry Floyd - for it was he - twice whipped the audience into unwarranted fervour, in order to bring Reed and the band back for encores. Left to itself, the crowd would have made its own decision, and Mr Floyd's antics betrayed more than a hint of the "nouveau fascism" which all too often rears its head at rock concerts these days. Once again, the time-honoured currency of the encore was debased.

Melody Maker, London, 07 October 1972