Bash Compactor: Throw Me A Bone

At the Cooper Square Hotel penthouse on Wednesday, a rat terrier named Lolabelle sat in one corner of the glass-walled room, playing an electric keyboard for treats. A group of enthusiastic onlookers encircled the Casio-playing canine and her trainer, Elizabeth Weiss. No one looked confused. Or suspicious. Or nonplussed. This was apparently par for the course.

Lolabelle, the canine muse of performance art-rock harbinger Laurie Anderson, was the opener at a listening of Anderson’s new album Homeland, her first studio record in 10 years. A crowd of Anderson’s friends, a tight but affable clique of aged cultural types, attended along with a smattering of the well-dressed and the weird, paying $12 for stiff well drinks served by a haughty wait staff.

But dogs seemed to be the theme of the evening—Anderson mused on her experience of playing her “Music for Dogs” to some-1,500 canines in Sydney on June 5, also her 63rd birthday. “The best I’ve ever had,” she said.

Performa honcho RoseLee Goldberg, who literally wrote the book on Anderson, a monograph chronicling her social and artistic history, said, “Laurie is proof that you can be both experienced and radical. What I always look forward to in Laurie’s work is her expert viewing of the times. She’s so able to take the temperature of this country.”

Goldberg’s husband, high-concept furniture designer Dakota Jackson was among the impenetrably schmoozey crowd, along with feelings-filled singer Antony Hegarty. He was without his trademark black wig and scampered off before the performance began, citing claustrophobia. But his ever-imposing presence diminished only because he arrived with recent long-form MoMA sitter Marina Abramovic, who also seemed to appear only for a flash. Canadian poet and MacArthur genius grant recipient Anne Carson idled near the elevator looking somewhat bored while photographer Ralph Gibson and sculptor Roderick Romero both milled about, the dual-braided Romero drinking red wine on the terrace.

As Anderson picked up her tiny electric violin to begin the performance, her husband, grumpy rock legend Lou Reed, stood front and center with a glass of what appeared to be a Coca-Cola, first to clap as the lines blurred between Anderson’s introductory thank you’s and her avant-garde performance. She segued between ambient, violin-driven drone, a few boom-bap beats and dark synth chords. Over this backdrop, she spoke of a dream wherein she gave birth to Lolabelle. And then she unleashed her “audio drag” counterpart Fenway Bergamot (who graces the cover of Homeworld) for a more political bent. She closed to much applause.

Next, Lolabelle had another go on the keys.

Photographer Timothy Greenfield-Sanders snapped photos. “It’s always a treat to see Laurie perform, and Lola plays for treats,” he quipped. “She,” meaning Lolabelle, “has gotten better.”