Anne Dickens | The Day After Yesterday

I forgot to tell you about a gig I went to last week at the O2 Academy in Oxford.

It was all really quite exciting because my friend Sarah had got us tickets to see...... da dahhhhhh...... none other than the legendary Lou Reed.


Oh yeh baby, the creator of classics such as 'Perfect Day' and 'Take a Walk on the Wildside' was coming to Oxford.

I was moderately excited about the gig, because although I like some of his stuff, I was never a die-hard fan like Sarah. Even in the olden days when we were both students at University, I remember the melancholy tones of Lou Reed's 'Heroin' blasting out from her room whilst she was writing her history essays. 

Fast forward eighteen years (bloody hell! That long?) from University ..... to Oxford last week, and Sarah and I were waiting in the queue to enter the venue.


After studying my ticket, I turned to ask Sarah why the concert was called 'Metal Machine Trio';

"I didn't know he had ever done an album called that," I mused.

"Me neither," replied Sarah, rather worringly (hang on - she lurrrrvvvves Lou Reed, but she hadn't heard of the album).

A lady behind us in the queue - a middle-aged, eccentric looking lady wearing an Easter bonnet and sporting a folded copy of The Times under her arm - had overheard our exchange and leant forward, commenting; "I'm rather worried about the concert too. Someone told me that there is no singing, and that if the audience boo, then Lou Reed will walk out."

Oooookay. From the snippets of information I had garnered, things weren't looking too promising. But then again, quite often the best gigs can pop up when you least expect them.


Once inside, we surveyed our surroundings. It was an all-standing gig, and the stage was dimly lit meaning that the whole venue was very dark and only the shadowy silhouettes of other people could be made out amongst the buzz of anticipation.

After ten minutes, a ripple of applause from the front of the auditorium indicated that Lou Reed and his band (consisting of two people) had entered the stage. The ripple spread throughout the venue and was accompanied by whoops and cheers.

Then the bizarre happenings started. Lou Reed didn't speak a word. He just knelt down next to a piece of kit towards the back of the stage and after a couple of minutes of him fiddling, the auditorium was filled with a weird, repetitive sound - a bit like the blades of a helicopter rotating very slowly but continuously.

After ensuring that the drone was working properly, Lou Reed and Band then oddly departed the stage, to leave the audience listening to dull throb for the next 40 minutes (the first audience members starting leaving after only 15 minutes), but not Sarah and I. Nope, we were going to stick with it.... the tickets cost £25.00 after all.

Once the 40 minutes of drone had elapsed (we soon realised that this drone was actually the intro to the performance), Lou Reed and Band re-entered the stage accompanied by a smaller ripple of applause and no cheers or whoops this time. Once again, Lou Reed didn't say anything and proceeded to sit down in the centre of the dimly lit stage, whilst his other band members positioned themselves behind a computer and a saxophone, respectively.


With the drone still going in the background, Lou Reed and his band started making out-of-tempo, shrieking noises, wailing, and squeaking with their various instruments of choice..... and so it went on..... and on. [Note to reader: I later found out that Metal Machine Trio belonged to a genre called 'Noise Music' - yep it does what it says on the tin. If you want to read more, click here].

After enduring an hour or so of this ceaseless clamor, we nipped outside for a moment of respite and a little fresh air.

As I passed one of the doorman on the way out, I commented, "oh my god, it's shite," and he laughed as though laughing at the victim of a practical joke.

Sarah turned to me,"Yep, Lou Reed's just tekking the piss," adding, "and I'm never going to buy another album of his."

At that point, an arty looking chap who had nipped outside for a (roll-up) cigarette turned to us - the two uncouth, uneducated and unwashed northern types - and derisively commented, "I think you will find that it is Avant Garde".

"Avant Garde?" I queried, "Isn't that the term you use when you want to make crap sound arty?"

Sarah starting laughing and I decided that we had better go inside before we got into trouble.

And so, after a further hour of listening to the cacophony of unbroken, grating 'noise' the concert finally came to a close. Only about a third of the initial audience still remained, and to my great surprise, there were some people at the front who clapped and cheered this pitiful excuse for a concert....... and Mr Avant Garde was probably one of them.

So, Lou Reed goes down in the annals of [my] history as the worst (by a long shot) gig I have ever been to. But in a weird kind of a way, bad gigs are just as interesting as good gigs ........ indignation can sometimes be as exciting as adrenaline.

So, I ask. What is the worst gig that you have ever been to? Can you come close (or even beat) Lou Reed's Metal Machine Trio?