Live, in Concert: The Good, Bad and Ugly

The most vital live albums aren’t those that merely provide fans with another concert memento or musicians with one more paycheck, but those that captured a moment of musical magic or history--or both.

Think of Jerry Lee Lewis’ spectacular “The Greatest Live Show on Earth” or Bob Dylan & the Band’s historic “Before the Flood” or Johnny Cash’s electric “Johnny Cash at Folsom Prison.”

They are among scores of reminders of why live music-making will never be rendered obsolete, regardless of the technological options musicians may have.

For a while in the ‘70s, nearly every act appeared compelled to put out a live set. The pendulum swung back during the ‘80s and ‘90s, when concert recordings seemed few and far between.

Now they’re on the upswing again--perhaps a reflection of the era of the Internet, in which there seems to be an audience for anything ever committed to wax, tape, vinyl or computer chip.

But as recently released concert recordings from several of the most celebrated performers of the last four decades remind us: Buyer beware.

* 1/2 Marvin Gaye, “The Final Concert,” the Right Stuff. You’d think a recording from the last concert tour by one of the greatest soul singers ever couldn’t miss.

Think again.

The recording itself is poor, sounding like something a fan taped on a portable cassette recorder. And the quality of the 1983 performance doesn’t transcend that limitation.

Gaye, who long battled drug problems, sounds scattered and unfocused in his between-song comments at this Indianapolis date (not actually his final concert, since the tour went on to close in Los Angeles). His performances--at least those in which his signature tenor comes through with any prominence--are adequate, but far from his best.

The one track that makes the disc worth hearing is “Joy,” which carries the subtitle “Dedicated to My Father.” The younger Gaye pays heartfelt yet bittersweet homage to his preacher father, who shot his son to death during an argument in 1984--perhaps the most bizarre and tragic rock ‘n’ roll death ever.

The CD booklet also includes some revealing liner notes by Gaye biographer David Ritz, who makes few apologies for the performances or sound quality. Yet this is not the way Gaye deserves to be remembered. For a far better Gaye live album, try “Live at the London Palladium,” even though the 1974 recording predates his early ‘80s artistic renaissance that yielded “Sexual Healing.”

** The Who, “The Who Live,” Musicmaker.com. During its prime, the Who was capable of soul-shaking performances, but this collection, recorded in 1999 in Chicago and England, doesn’t prove that point.

Maybe the group will never sound as powerful as it did before the 1978 death of drummer Keith Moon, but the 20 tracks on this double CD sound more labored than inspired--and not because there’s anything patently lame about the drumming of Moon-sub Zak Starkey (Ringo Starr’s son). One exception is the lowest-profile song of the bunch--”After the Fire,” in which Roger Daltrey, Pete Townshend and John Entwistle jointly seem to catch a breath of fresh air, probably because it’s a song they haven’t done ad infinitum for two decades or more.

These shows reportedly raised $1 million for charity, and the band pummels out several songs from “Who’s Next” and “Quadrophenia” that hadn’t been recorded at the time of their “Live at Leeds” album. Yet that explosive 1971 performance--reissued in 1995 with extra songs--remains the Who live recording to own.

*** Pink Floyd, “The Wall Live,” Columbia. Rock-as-theatrical-spectacle may have reached its zenith in the concerts this British progressive-rock band built around its 1979 concept album “The Wall,” in which a gargantuan wall was built during each night’s concert, eventually completely separating the band from its fans.

It was songwriter Roger Waters’ comment on how alienated he felt playing rock ‘n’ roll in sports arenas and stadiums, but it also had ramifications for alienation of all stripes, which has helped it continue to resonate in succeeding years.

Minus the visuals, this aural document of the 29-date “Wall” tour in 1980-81 misses a huge chunk of the overall effect, but the music does remain haunting, sometimes rambling, occasionally truly touching. A DVD release of the film could provide the knockout punch missing here.

** Canned Heat, “The Boogie House Tapes,” Ruf Records. Like the Gaye release, you get the feeling in these two CDs of outtakes, radio broadcasts and assorted live performances that the keepers of the boogie blues group’s legacy would green-light anything.

All the material was recorded before the 1981 death of founder and guiding light Bob “The Bear” Hite, but little of it is exceptional, and most of the tracks sound as if the band is still searching for something unique in the two- and three-chord boogie workouts.

There’s a certain fly-on-the-wall appeal to hearing the banter between band members and studio techs before the music kicks in, but it’s primarily for dyed-in-the-wool Heatheads.

*** 1/2 Lou Reed, “Rock N Roll Animal,” RCA. This genuinely inspired performance is enhanced by a couple of previously unreleased tracks, “How Do You Think It Feels” and “Caroline Says I.” Reed was just three solo albums into his post-Velvet Underground career when he played this 1973 show at the Academy of Music in New York, and the high points come from the Velvet classics “Sweet Jane,” “Heroin” and “White Light/White Heat.”

Reed delves into the pitch-black underbelly of life in performances both emotionally turbulent and wrenchingly powerful. Yet for a guy whose attitude, raw sound and physical appearance helped set the stage for the coming punk-rock revolution, he and his band edge surprisingly close to the Grateful Dead and Allman Brothers musical territory in spots.

*** King Curtis, “Live at the Fillmore West,” Koch. King Curtis, a.k.a. Curtis Ousley, was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame earlier this year in the new sidemen category, and for good reason. He was the first-call tenor sax player for most of the great R&B; and soul recording sessions for Atlantic Records from the late ‘50s until his death in 1971.

He was one of the few session players to have any success at a solo career and recorded a string of studio albums in the ‘60s that generated some minor instrumental hits, two of which--”Memphis Soul Stew” and “Soul Serenade”--are included here. This set was recorded in San Francisco a few months before his death, and he sighs, screams, whispers and scorches his way through some songs you might expect (Stevie Wonder’s “Signed Sealed Delivered I’m Yours”) and others you never would (Led Zeppelin’s “Whole Lotta Love” and Bobbie Gentry’s “Ode to Billie Joe”), but all with tangible heart and soul.

Albums are rated on a scale of one star (poor), two stars (fair), three stars (good) and four stars (excellent).