Puro decadentismo mitteleuropeo.
Strani parametri, già rispetto al glamour esibito con irriverenza nel precedente, indimenticabile Transformer: Lou sembra congedarsi dal precedente album nel segno di Kurt Weill, o forse Marlene Dietrich ("Goodnight ladies" - "...it's time to say goodbye...") come un Kubrick che preavvisa lo spettatore di dover iniziare un percorso diverso (il finale in costume di Arancia Meccanica anticipa i temi di Barry Lyndon). Berlin gode di una duplice fama: quello di essere ritenuto ormai universalmente uno dei caposaldi assoluti del rock, e quello di avere al tempo stesso l'impatto più terrificante che la musica potesse portarsi dietro. Reed non è certo nuovo a questa tipologia di realtà feroce e iconoclasta - pensiamo al testo di "Heroin" ad esempio - ma qui supera arditamente se stesso. Non a tutti l'operazione suscita entusiasmi, anzi indigna le riviste specializzate più in voga per la "volgarità" del disco, o forse per il barocchismo di certi brani o (addirittura) l'ambiguità ideologica (in un farneticante manuale naziskin di qualche lustro fa figurava al primo posto, in compagnia del Bowie di "Heroes" come autentico prototipo della difesa della razza ariana). Ma queste disquisizioni lasciano il tempo che trovano ormai: a me interessa esprimere un giudizio su un album che non è certo piacevole e rilassato anzi confesso che ogni volta che lo ascolto la tentazione di mettere fine alle atmosfere melò struggenti - o strazianti a seconda dei gusti - è molto forte. Album inarrivabile che costringe l'ascoltatore a calarsi nelle spire di un'atmosfera lugubre, nel racconto che l'autore ne fa: una sorta di psicodramma che vede coinvolta una donna dissoluta e la crisi coniugale col marito (pare che abbia messo in crisi la salute mentale del produttore del disco, reduce da una vicenda simile), il successivo allontanamento dei figli e l'apologo del suicidio della donna.
Una sorta di film à la Douglas Sirk se fosse un film. O un feuilleton d'autore se fosse un romanzo. Invece è un album di musica, dove Reed conferma tutto l'amore per Weill, ma anche Broadway (due mondi opposti....ma fino a un certo punto), per il melodramma tedesco e il teatro francese Ascoltate "Berlin": un pianoforte che anticipa il dramma ideale (?), una corrosione tra tradizione e dissacrazione pura, quasi Liberace mentre suona Tchiaikowsky. E' puro kitsch? E sia: sublime "Lady Day" potremmo leggerlo tutti come l'omaggio a un'altra donna sfortunata, Billie Holiday. E "Caroline Says" dunque? Suddivisa in due parti, pre/post dramma, qualcosa che esprime il rito incostante di un party naufragato nell'esilio nel dolore puro Ma l'imminente diventa qualcosa di insostenibile, perché tale è il pianto ininterrotto di bambini che reclamano la loro madre (cfr. the kids): "le portarono via i bambini perchè dicevano che non era una buona madre": è un'incubo che può portare a tormenti psichici infantili anche se non si sono vissuti. E' il segno di un legame affettivo immenso, di un sentimento cinico (quello del marito) che non tiene conto della reazione che possono avere i figli... Nei primi anni settanta, tutto questo osava dire Reed al pubblico, ai fans: l'immagine rinvigorita del ventre materno, l'espiazione del maschio costretto a commentare in soliloquio la sua sconfitta umana e affettiva ("Sad Song"). E' un disco che ferisce, sconvolge, distrugge, Berlin. E' l'ultima frontiera di un rock che osa l'inosabile, appropriarsi di un linguaggio quantomai adulto artistico e "letterario" senza il bisogno di nobilitarsi con efferate e masturbatorie session classiche à la Keith Emerson. Probabilmente resta l'anello di congiunzione, il crocevia ideale, tra il nichilismo del punk e la tradizione "Pura". Ritratto di famiglia in un inferno.
Elenco tracce testi e video
01 Berlin (03:25)
In Berlin, by the wall
you were five foot ten inches tall
It was very nice
candlelight and Dubonnet on ice
We were in a small cafe
you could hear the guitars play
It was very nice
it was paradise
You're right and I'm wrong
hey babe, I'm gonna miss you now that you're gone
One sweet day
Oh, you're right and I'm wrong
you know I'm gonna miss you now that you're gone
One sweet day
One sweet day
In a small, small cafe
we could hear the guitars play
It was very nice
candlelight and Dubonnet on ice
Don't forget, hire a vet
he hasn't had that much fun yet
It was very nice
hey honey, it was paradise
You're right and I'm wrong
oh babe, I'm gonna miss you now that you're gone
One sweet day
You're right, oh, and I'm wrong
you know I'm gonna miss you now that you're gone
One sweet day
One sweet day
One sweet day, one sweet day
oh, one sweet day
One sweet day, baby-baby, one sweet day
one sweet day, one sweet day
04 Caroline Says I (03:57)
Caroline says that I'm just a toy
she wants a man, not just a boy
Oh, Caroline says, ooohhh, Caroline says
Caroline says she can't help but be mean
or cruel, or oh so it seems
Oh, Caroline says, Caroline says
She say she doesn't want a man who leans
Still she is my Germanic -
- Queen
Yeah, she's my Queen
The things she does, the things she says
people shouldn't treat others that way
But at first I thought I could take it all
Just like poison in a vial
hey, she was often very vile
But of course, I thought I could take it all
Caroline says that I'm not a man
so she'll go get it catch as catch can
Oh, Caroline says, yeah, Caroline says
Caroline says moments in time
can't continue to be only mine
Oh, Caroline says, yeah, Caroline says
She treats me like I am a fool
But to me she's still a German -
- Queen, ooohhh, she's my -
- Queen, ya ...
Queen, hey baby, she's my Queen
(Queen)
(Queen)
(Queen)
(Queen)
(Queen)
(Queen)
(Queen)
(Queen)
...
05 How Do You Think It Feels (03:43)
How do you think it feels
when you're speeding and lonely, come here baby
How do you think it feels
when all you can say is if only
If only I had a little
if only I had some change, come here baby
If only, if only, if only
How do you think it feels
and when do you think it stops
How do you think it feels
when you've been up for five days, come down here mama
Hunting around always, ooohhh
'cause you're afraid of sleeping
How do you think it feels
to feel like a wolf and foxy
How do you think it feels
To always make love by proxy, huh
how do you think it feels
And when do you think it stops
when do you think it stops
06 Oh, Jim (05:12)
All your two-bit friends they're shootin' you up with pills They said that it was good for you that it would cure your ills I don't care just where it's at I'm just like an alley cat And when you're filled up to here with hate don't you know you gotta get it straight Filled up to here with hate beat her black and blue and get it straight Do, do, do, do, do, do when you're lookin' through the eyes of hate All your two-bit friends they asked you for your autograph They put you on the stage they thought it'd be good for a laugh But I don't care just where it's at 'cause honey, I'm just like an alley cat And when you're filled up to here with hate don't you know you gotta get it straight Filled up to here with hate beat her black and blue and get it straight Uh-huh Oh, Jim how could you treat me this way Hey, hey, hey how could you treat me this way Oh, Jim how could you treat me this way Hey, hey how could you treat me this way You know you broke my heart ever since you went away Now you said that you love us but you only make love to one of us Oh, oh, oh, oh, Jim how could you treat me this way You know you broke my heart ever since you went away When you're looking through the eyes of hate oh, oh, oh, oh When you're looking through the eyes of hate oh, oh, oh, oh When you're looking through the eyes of hate oh, oh, oh, oh When you're looking through the eyes of hate oh, oh, oh, oh When you're looking through the eyes of hate oh, oh, oh, oh When you're looking through the eyes of hate oh, oh, oh, oh ...
08 The Kids (07:53)
They're taking her children away
Because they said she was not a good mother
They're taking her children away
Because she was making it with sisters and brothers
And everyone else, all of the others
Like cheap officers who would stand there and flirt in front of me
They're taking her children away
Because they said she was not a good mother
They're taking her children away
Because of the things that they heard she had done
The black Air Force sergeant was not the first one
And all of the drugs she took, every one, every one
And I am the Water Boy, the real game's not over here
But my heart is overflowin' anyway
I'm just a tired man, no words to say
But since she lost her daughter
It's her eyes that fill with water
And I am much happier this way
They're taking her children away
Because they said she was not a good mother
They're taking her children away
Because number on was the girl friend from Paris
The things that they did - ah - they didn't have to ask us
And then the Welshman from India, who came here to stay
They're taking her children away
Because they said she was not a good mother
They're taking her children away
Because of the things she did in the streets
In the alleys and bars, no she couldn't be beat
That miserable rotten slut couldn't turn anyone away
I am the Water Boy, the real game's not over here
But my heart is overflowin' anyway
I'm just a tired man, no words to say
But since she lost her daughter
It's her eyes that fill with water
And I am much happier this way
09 The Bed (05:51)
This is the place where she lay her head
when she went to bed at night
And this is the place our children were conceived
candles lit the room brightly at night
And this is the place where she cut her wrists
that odd and fateful night
And I said, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, what a feeling
And I said, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, what a feeling
This is the place where we used to live
I paid for it with love and blood
And these are the boxes that she kept on the shelf
Filled with her poetry and stuff
And this is the room where she took the razor
and cut her wrists that strange and fateful night
And I said, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, what a feeling
And I said, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, what a feeling
I never would have started if I'd known
that it's end this way
But funny thing, I'm not at all sad
that it stopped this way
This is the place where she lay her head
when she went to bed at night
And this is the place our children were conceived
candles lit the room brightly at night
And this is the place where she cut her wrists
That odd and fateful night
And I said, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, what a feeling
And I said, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, what a feeling
10 Sad Song (06:59)
Staring at my picture book
she looks like Mary, Queen of Scots
She seemed very regal to me
just goes to show how wrong you can be
I'm gonna stop wastin' my time
Somebody else would have broken both of her arms
Sad song, sad song
Sad song, sad song
My castle, kids and home
I thought she was Mary, Queen of Scots
I tried so very hard
shows just how wrong you can be
I'm gonna stop wasting time
Somebody else would have broken both of her arms
Sad song, sad song
Sad song, sad song
Sad song, sad song
Sad song, sad song
Sad song, sad song
Sad song, sad song
...
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Altre recensioni
Di hans
Creò un'opera che scava a fondo nell'anima dell'artista, più di ogni lavoro pubblicato sulla scena americana negli ultimi 50 anni.
Berlin. Il capolavoro assoluto (tra i tanti) dell'autore newyorkese, merita un posto tra i più grandi dischi del '900.
Di Stronko
‘‘Berlin’ inizia dolente da un riverbero lontano di voci, suoni di fine festa e un pianoforte stanco e il sussurro di Lou che scivola su un blues malinconico e decadente.’
‘‘Per me sarà sempre un album unico e indimenticabile’.
Di AR (Anonima Recensori)
Qui Reed si spoglia, in atteggiamento poetico, crudele verso se stesso.
Un disco musicalmente e melodicamente particolare, dalle cadenze pesanti, che alla distanza si ama come un amico sincero.
Di carlo cimmino
Avevo sbagliato. La testata era stata un clamoroso errore: avrei dovuto mollarla a lei.
Fuori pioveva. Galleggiavo in una malconcia e impolverata poltrona di pelle ed al buio lo ascoltavo in religioso silenzio, quando capii.
Di Meco
"Lou Reed stesso, col suo cantato monocorde, asettico e ai limiti dell'amelodico, mi risulta particolarmente noioso."
"Il disco suona brutto... spesso manca un’amalgama di fondo fra le varie componenti."
