Henry
Fonda Theater
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7 & 7 Is |
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Photos by The New Guy
When I was 13, my little band played a few songs by Love. The year was 1967. I remember
singing "Iīll Be Following" at battles of the bands around The San Fernando
Valley. Around the same time I saw the original Love perform at the Valley Music Theatre
in Woodland Hills, California. So it was with great anticipation I awaited Arthur Leeīs
performance Friday night.
The opening act, "The Tyde" played some interesting alternative folk rock, but the sound was muddy, which was intentional, I think-an old soundman trick to make the headliners shine more. The crowd, which was a fascinating mix of grey haired ex-hippies and young Hollywood hipsters, was polite to The Tyde, but was clearly anxious for the Headliner.
Arthur Leeīs band, Love (Baby Lemonade - should we still call them that?) mounted the stage and after a pregnant pause, Arthur Lee appeared, looking incredibly cool and youthful-timeless, like his music. The crowd, which I would estimate to be around 1500, gave him a rousing ovation. Someone in the audience shouted "Seven and seven is!" and low and behold, the band launched into this amazing piece of sonic history. Arthur, strumming his white stratocaster (sans pick), crouched and lunged with incredible stage presence. He shouted the lyrics with the same passion he had when he recorded the song. After the song ended, he took off his guitar, and picking up maracas went into "Orange Skies". The contrast between the first two songs was beautifully "Arthuresque". Arthur moved and danced with grace. He demanded our attention without trying. At one point he even did a mean James Brown shuffle with his cowboy boots. Quite simply, I was blown away by the entire show. You could feel the momentum swelling for this legendary performer and his great, great band. Mike Randle played many of the string and horn parts on his guitar to beautiful effect. Rusty Squeezebox sang harmonies in a very comparable fashion to Brianīs originals. The band clearly relished the experience of playing behind Arthur and never got in his way. They actually seemed to lift him to his deserved place.
Lee usually introduced each song as "This next song...", which seemed innocent and charming. He joked with the audience, clearly comfortable in his own skin. He even handled an unruly microphone clip (his microphone fell from the stand three or four times), with professionalism, casually bending down to pick up the mic mid-song and singing a "yeah" or an "ooh", as if it had barely phased him. He was self-effacing, mentioning something about his "tired black ass" and grinning to himself when he sang some of his more psychedelic lyrics. He punctuated other lyrics with gestures, as his hand becoming a framed photo when singing, "I see your picture-itīs in the same old frame". His harmonica solo on "Signed DC", sent chills up my spine. His voice, although slightly strained from his tour schedule, was very, very effective. Arthur has many "voices" and they all came through in stellar fashion. He reached to the bottom, the very bottom of his spirit, and what emerged was unworldly. I couldnīt help thinking that he should be in front of many, many more than this relatively small crowd. But then we devoted Love fans would have to share him, wouldnīt we? I think itīs time we get used to it.
Chuck Maiden
Newbury Park, California
LOVE MINUS ZERO: NO LIMIT?
M. Greenwald
I don't want to get too optimistic here, but some great things are happening amongst
some of the surviving veteran rockers from the psychedelic era. Between the David
Crosby's, Brian Wilson's, Rolling Stones' and Who's of this world who have somehow
survived seemingly devastating personnel changes, imprisonment, and even key band member
deaths as we head into the 21st Century, there is still somehow a wonderful wave of
re-birth. The greatest of all stories just may be Arthur Lee, the leader of perhaps the
most progressive group to come out of the 1960's musical underground, Love. Lee's been
counted out of the game countless times, most recently from 1996 to 2001, when he was in
prison on a weapons charge.
Aside from legal and personal problems, Lee also eschewed touring throughout his long
career, only venturing out on rare occasions, usually to play local L.A. club shows.
However now, at the beginning of autumn 2002, Lee and his re-tooled Love (all members of
former L.A. pop/rockers, Baby Lemonade) performed their 51st show this year at the Henry
Fonda Theatre on Hollywood Blvd., and it was an inspiring show for several reasons.
First off, the near-capacity crowd that came to see the show literally spanned
generations. Prior to the show and during intermission, I spoke with several older fans
who saw Lee and Love in their glory days at Bito Lido's, The Whiskey, etc. who spoke
reverently and rolled their eyes when remembering the band in their 1965-7 heyday. As
well, there were a lot of retro-rockers, music freaks and musicians such as myself in
their late 30's/early 40's. But what was most interesting were the large number of younger
fans, who ranged from pre-teens to early-mid-20's; all stone Love fanatics, and most of
whom had never seen Lee before.
After an opening band (The Tyde) and a lengthy intermission, Lee and the band stepped unto
the stage. Lee, resplendent in jeans, a white cowboy shirt, hat and an American flag head
bandana looked in great physical condition. The band ripped into the classic "7&7
Is" and proved - in the very first song - that Lee hadn't lost a step. Aside from the
quality of his voice - which remains exquisite - Lee still projected an edgy element of
danger and menace when delivering the song, and this alone went a long way in
demonstrating that his rock & roll heart and soul are still firmly intact. Quickly
shifting gears into the pop/Latin/soul masterpiece, "Orange Skies" - which ended
up sounding like Stevie Wonder fronting a rock & roll band - delivering a pure,
unspoiled message of…well, love.
Aside from performing all of the 'hits' such as "My Little Red Book",
"Alone Again Or" and "Andmoreagain", among others, Lee and his band
reached far back into the catalogue for some unexpected delights, such as "Your Mind
And We Belong Together", the original band's final single from early 1968. A
daunting, multi-section suite, it's doubtful that the original band even attempted it on
stage back when it was released. However, Lee has a group of respectful, sympathetic
players that were willing to take the song to the wall with him, and it succeeded beyond
anyone's imagination. From Lee's straining, almost operatic-meets-Latin psychedelic vocal
acrobatics to lead guitarist Mike Randle's virtual wall-of-metal white noise solo, it was
one of the finest musical accomplishments I've witnessed in a live setting by a five-piece
band, and was undoubtedly one of the show's many highlights.
Aside from two songs, Lee and Love tackled all of the Forever Changes material, and did so
with a combination of force and grace that was beyond admirable. The guitarists, Randle
and Rusty Squeezebox were able to nail the elaborate string and horn lines perfectly,
along with giving them a muscular rock edge that worked perfectly in this live setting.
Late last year and over the summer, the band performed the album live in Europe, augmented
by a seven-piece string and horn section. Plans to repeat these shows are set for Europe
and the U.K. again in early 2003, as well possible stateside and Japanese shows. But,
while that would indeed be a treat, this lineup does the material extreme justice.
And speaking of justice (and freedom), the performance of "The Red Telephone"
was particularly appropriate at this show. With the closing section {'they're locking them
up today/they're throwing away the key…') and 'We're all normal and we want our
freedom was more than a little ironic and powerful, with Lee exalting the audience to
scream the word 'freedom', and he meant it.
Aside from Lee, Randle and Squeezebox (who also handled the harmony vocals beautifully),
the band (which also includes David Green on drums and David Chapple on bass) commanded
such challenging material as "The Daily Planet" remarkably, especially the drum
fills (originally played by Hal Blaine) on "Planet" and the bone-crunching Bossa
Nova rock rhythm of "A House Is Not A Motel". Lee himself also shone brightly on
the bluesy harp solo of "Signed D.C.", where he and Randle traded riffs like an
acid-fried Butterfield/Bloomfiled combination.
One of the biggest suprises of the evening was the inclusion of "August" from
1969's Four Sail. Since the late 70's, I'm proud to say that I've rarely missed a
Southland Love show (and they weren't all great, friends) , yet I'd never seen him pull
this one out. The song blends rock, jazz, Latin and near-metal influences together into
one cohesive whole, and was probably meant to be performed live. On this evening, it
reached its highest potential, with Randle, Chapple and Green trading multi-layered riffs
to create some positively dizzying hights.
Following the obligatory "Everybody's Gotta Live", the audience - who weren't
about to let Lee leave the building without an encore - got the band back onstage for a
blinding version of "My Flash On You", a psychedelic, "Hey Joe"-styled
rocker from the 1966 debut album, and this closing song neatly mirrored the analogous
"7&7 Is", which opened the show.
Aside from being an evening of great music, it was a hopeful night, and that's what Lee
and Love sent the audience home with: hope. Lee announced that a new Love album will be
released in 2003, along with his autobiography. It would have been nice, actually, to hear
a new song or two, or perhaps the elegant "Five String Serenade", easily one of
the finest songs he's written in the last 20 years. But, these are minor criticisms in an
evening that delivered some real music and an optimistic eye towards the future…which
appears to be a wonderful thing. - Matthew Greenwald
Đ2002 M. Greenwald
Hereīs a preview of Loveīs appearance at the Fonda Theater, from the Calendar section
of the current issue of L.A. WEEKLY.
Itīs no small tragedy that Love have released exactly one album (the almost
impossible-to-find import Five String Serenade) and one 7-inch ("Girl on
Fire"/"Midnight Sun") in the 20 years since Arthur Leeīs underappreciated
eponymous solo album. (It didnīt help that Lee was incarcerated for half of the ī90s.)
But Lee, along with Neil Young, may have been the most productive of his ī60s
contemporaries. Have the Rolling Stones, who "borrowed" Leeīs lyrics to the
idyllic "She Comes in Colors" for their own "Sheīs a Rainbow,"
recently released any ballads as purely lovely as Leeīs lushly orchestrated "Youīre
the Prettiest Song"? Did any of the Beatles or Dylan embark on such
a varied and risk-taking musical journey late in their careers, the way the chameleonic
Lee stubbornly explored reggae and funk digressions in the ī70s and ī80s, scaring away
many of his fans (who seem stuck in a psychedelic time warp)? Since his release from
prison late last year, Leeīs been clear-eyed and busy. Deftly backed by longtime ace
support staff Baby Lemonade, Leeīs playing tunes that have never been performed live, and
just
got back from a tour of Europe that included accolades from members of
Englandīs Parliament. Itīs a good time to be in Love. Henry Fonda Theater,
6126 Hollywood Blvd., Hlywd.; Fri., Sept. 27, 8 p.m. (323) 464-0808.
-Falling James