LAURIE ANDERSON – BRIGHTON DOME 6.5.26
The complex, yet beautiful artistry of Laurie Anderson is one that can never be overwelcomed in the musical consciousness – from advancements in instrumental creativity with the invention of tape-bow violins and various vocal filter interpolations to her many celebrated releases including her 1982 debut ‘Big Science’, featuring hit single and staple composition ‘O Superman’, Anderson’s work has explored and incorporated a wide plethora of musical and artistic integrations.
I recall being around the age of 9 or 10 when I first heard the aforementioned ‘O Superman’, with its constant Harmonizer vocal loop and cryptically dystopian lyrics, inspired by the Massenet opera ‘Le Cid’ (from which the song’s opening lyrics are drawn). As someone about to hit the mid-point of their twenties while entering a world of political and technological uncertainty, the lyrics of ‘O Superman’ hit harder than ever, with comparative sentiments on military, AI’s disparagement on humanity and the importance of organic family interaction. This past Wednesday saw Laurie return to the Brighton Dome after ten years to deliver a performance of ‘The Republic of Love’, which explores the relationship of government and love, first presented as a two-hour talk for a festival in Vienna.
As my father and I wondered through the Brighton Festival-decorated foyer bar in the Dome, we were greeted with the sounds of the The Fabulous Hamiltones, a jazz trio who treated us to the sounds of the classic ‘Bring Me Sunshine’ before we caught a glimpse of Lucy Newman’s ‘Act 0’, an art installation featuring looping video sequences, an assortment of artefacts both familiar and peculiar and an aesthetic influenced by analogue film processes.
I took my seat in the stalls where I caught the sights of the stage, with an armament of instruments assembled for Laurie’s performance, including synthesizers, an electric violin, and a leather jacket (more on that later…). As the lights dim, Laurie takes her walk across the stage to the rapture of the Brighton crowd, warming up the musical backdrop with droning violin and organ, detailing ‘The Republic of Love’’s definitions as a conversation regarding the critique of America, a questioning of government and the rise of fascism taking place across Europe.
Throughout the performance, Laurie decorated the sonic arrangements with a trademark infusion of skeletal drones of assorted synthesizer textures of varying density, minimal piano chord embellishments and brief, but freakish, volumetric rhythms, whether sequenced or pre-recorded. She talked about ordo amoris, also known as the order of love, which comprises several concentric circles, representing a hierarchy of importance for loved ones – parents, family, significant others towards the centre and reaching outwards towards community and your fellow man in the outer circles. Not even 15 minutes into the performance, I am struck with the detailing of a list of words and terms that either scroll across the screen, turning red as they fade off the projection, or uttered by Laurie herself as a point of reference, which had been censored and purged by the Trump administration, including but not limited to: “all-inclusive”, “anti-racist”, “black”, “discrimination”, “equality”, “LGBTQ”, “transgender”, “women”, “genocide” and “disability”. As we reach one-third of the way into Trump’s second presidential term, the reminder of this form of censorship remains eye-widening.
Laurie went on to regale a story depicting Beat writer William S. Burroughs as the deranged uncle, who toured with Laurie having provided the inspiration behind one of her biggest songs, ‘Language is a Virus from Outer Space’, found on her ‘United States Live’ and ‘Home of the Brave’ live albums. The story ended with an interesting viewpoint on how, yes, language is, indeed, a virus, but a virus can also be a language; it’s not alive, but rather, information that cannot be killed. Furthermore, she waxes on the political crossfire of the phrase “give me liberty or give me death”, conflating guns and abortion with each side of the political spectrum’s associated viewpoints and where the two align.
Some dark Farfisa chords are employed on a rearrangement of her piece ‘The Dream Before’, before segueing into some incredible stereo-delayed violin drones which remind me of Steve Reich’s ‘Different Trains’. Across the middle portion of the performance, various thinkpieces and dioramas are delivered on the concept of running away to Mars before even considering the prospect of saving your own planet, how Laurie refers to travel as by the city and the cultural network, rather than the country itself, and attending a benefit party for the firemen who gave their lives during 9/11 (some of the attendees had travelled from other countries to offer their regards).
Tributes and reinterpretations are given towards three prominent figures in Laurie’s life, artistically, and emotionally: firstly, the great Bob Dylan via a synthesized violin arrangement of ‘A Hard Rain’s A-Gonna Fall’. Next, the late Arthur Russell, one of my favourite artists of all time, with a vocal strip of his ‘World of Echo’ track ‘Being It’ flooding the acoustics of the Dome. Lastly comes a tribute to her late husband and music legend Lou Reed, with a euphoric deliverance of the song ‘Junior Dad’, the closing track to the polarizing ‘Lulu’ record made in collaboration with Metallica. Laurie, among many other artists close to Lou’s life, champions ‘Lulu’ as his best work despite its challenging material, demonstrating her clear understanding of Lou’s work as an artist and lyrical innovator. A trifecta of rules to live by, which Laurie penned with Lou during their marriage together, were conveyed to the audience as she performed a section of the performance in a leather jacket containing sensors that played a wide assortment of drum machine patches. These rules are as follows:
Don’t be afraid of anybody.
Get a really good bullshit detector and know how to use it.
Be really tender.
To cap off the evening, Laurie continued to pay homage to Lou in the performance’s encore, informing the audience of Lou’s status as a tai chi master being more of a public mainstay in China rather than his musical career both solo and with The Velvet Underground. She encouraged us all to raise to our feet, and engage in the 21 Form which Lou immersed himself with frequently; knowing a brief history of Lou and Laurie’s love together, I recall her once stating that Lou Reed even performed tai chi on his deathbed, leaving behind a legacy of colour and excitement.
I had no idea what to expect going into Laurie Anderson’s ‘The Republic of Love’, but I came out of the Brighton Dome with the confirmation of having partook in one of the greatest live performances and artistic interactions I’ve ever witnessed. Watching her deliver a musical sermon of minimalism-infused portraits on the ugliness of new-age fascism and government, and the beauty and tenderness of humanity and love, was an experience unlike any other. There are only so many artists in the world of Laurie Anderson’s calibre, so we must hold onto them dearly before we eventually have to fend for ourselves.
Laurie Anderson:
Laurie Anderson – vocals, violin, synthesizer, keyboards, drum suit
