by Carrie Brownstein

It seems that the only concerts I've attended since moving to New York City are highfalutin, high-cost events that take place at ornate and historic venues. Because here I am, about to review the show I saw last night at Carnegie Hall. My friend was generous enough to offer me an extra pass that he had to see An Evening With Gavin Friday and Friends. Featuring guest appearances by everyone from U2 to Lydia Lunch to Laurie Anderson, the night was also a benefit for RED, with a portion of the proceeds going toward helping eradicate AIDS in Africa. Friday, a member of the late-'70s/early-'80s Irish avant-garde band The Virgin Prunes — who, for many years, were the obligatory opener for their friends in U2 — had always said he wanted to play Carnegie Hall before he turned 50. So last night, in a star-studded 50th-birthday event, Gavin Friday got his wish.

Friday appeared on stage, possessing a blend of hidden menace a la Malcolm McDowell in A Clockwork Orange, the sexual ambiguity of Bowie in his Ziggy Stardust days, and the dapper but unctuous air of a schoolboy-on-the-prowl at a private-school prom. The emcee and the impresario, Friday was also the unabashed birthday boy. His overriding attitude seemed to be, "It's my party and I'll sing if I want to." Despite a parade of celebrities, we were never to forget that it was Gavin's songs and Gavin's night.

I'll be honest: I'm not going to remember each and every one of the special guests. But what follows are some thoughts about the people I do recall.

 

U2. Say what you will about the biggest band on earth, but it was exciting to see them in a small venue (well, small for them). Not that they looked wholly comfortable with the lack of creature comforts that a stadium provides; imagine watching elephants trying to perform inside an ant farm.

Antony Hegarty of Antony and the Johnsons. I kept thinking, "Please let Antony sing the song by himself (as opposed to the duet he did with Friday)." Probably the best moment came when Friday introduced Antony as "a very special man." Antony fired back, "I'm not a man."

When I read that Courtney Love would be at the event, I wondered how I could perfectly time a bathroom break during her performance. Instead, when she got on stage, I opted to look away for most of the time and pretend there was something interesting on the ceiling. I must admit, Love pulled off a solid, heartfelt and well-written intro to the Virgin Prunes reunion segment of the night. But her performance with Gavin Friday left me wanting more ceiling to ponder. Watching Love was like watching a drunk poodle, fresh from an over-zealous grooming, trying not to s—- on itself. You really do want to help the poodle.

I might have appreciated Scarlett Johansson more if she hadn't sung with Rufus Wainwright, one of the best performers of the night. Funny and self-deprecating, he brought needed levity to an event that had already begun to take itself very seriously. Wainwright was completely comfortable in the venue, as if he lived inside of it; his voice was syrup and sass and slippers; casual yet luxurious. Rufus' sister, Martha Wainwright, was also one of the most stunning singers at the event. She performed a solo version of the song Friday wrote for the In the Name of the Father soundtrack, and her delivery was unwavering, even chilling.

Gosh, who else? Maria McKee. Remember the band Lone Justice?

Oh, and Shane MacGowan. Unbelievable. As in, I literally could not believe the man was standing. Yet that did not quell my enthusiasm for seeing him on stage, or stop me from being an admirer.

There were many more guests: Lydia Lunch, author Patrick McCabe, Joel Grey (!).

Oh, and I'm forgetting the surprise guest: Lady Gaga. She came out and played unaccompanied on the piano, changing the lyrics of her mega-hit "Pokerface" to be about a guy with red hair whom she falls in love with. (Get it? She was combining the RED event with Gavin.) The audience seemed genuinely impressed with the fact that she could really play the piano. She can, but so can a lot of other people. I guess our expectations for pop stars are fairly low. Nevertheless, I can't say that I'm unhappy to have gotten to see Lady Gaga.

In the end, it was a privilege to be there, but also strange to sit so close — in the third row, to be exact — at such a grandiose event. Being that near to the stage made the night more intimate, but also more disjointed. I wanted to step back, to truly see the splendor of it all. For once, I wanted the spectacle to truly be a spectacle, a parade, all shimmery and aglow. Or maybe, no matter where one was sitting, the night was too reined-in, too stifled and stiff. For a birthday celebration replete with high-caliber celebrity guests, there should have been more candles, more cake, more funfetti; the night had swagger and stars, but it didn't have fire, a sweetness, or even much of a spark.