Welcome to the Monkee House

There's always been something special about the annual fundraiser for Tibet House at Carnegie Hall. For one night, the usual gang of idiots on the left concedes that communism is evil. They might want to party with Castro over in Cuba, but there's something about oppressed Tibetan monks that gets celebrities interested in human rights.

Tonight's the 15th Annual Benefit Concert for Tibet House, continuing a long tradition where musical acts gather to perform on an eclectic bill. You never know whom to expect, either. It might be someone as cool as Lou Reed or as awful as?well, Lou Reed. Since the artistic director is Philip Glass, you can always rely on an interesting mix. Never mind how that's the same Philip Glass who recently oversaw the ACLU benefit concert that I walked out on just a few months ago. Let's put our bickering in the past. We're all against the commies tonight.

The noted composer-who, in his role as emcee, will be the Tom Poston of rock 'n' roll-starts the evening by reminding us that tonight's concert coincides with the start of the Tibetan New Year. That's news to me. I thought this was scheduled to coincide with Fashion Week.

Professor Robert Thurman, as cofounder of Tibet House, then reaffirms the love for freedom that brings us all together. He touches upon many popular sentiments that we'd expect to hear from John F. Kennedy or George W. Bush. That's the kind of unity I was hoping for tonight. I don't even mind when the audience cheers themselves as "enlightened beings."

Maybe they're warming up to be polite to the Drepung Gomang monks of southern India, who open the bill with some chanting. Then the proper entertainment starts with the Black Keys. As with Philip Glass, they're a holdover from that same ACLU concert, back when they were bragging about being from the swing state of Ohio. Tonight, the duo simply launches into more reliable guitar-and-drum blues-rock-after the token comment about how they've never had to follow an opening act like chanting monks. Actually, the band will face their real competition at the start of their second song, when I realize that I'm actually smelling pot in Carnegie Hall.

The Black Keys are either really boring, or it's a contact high that leaves me spending most of their set thinking about how Deep Space Nine was probably the best Star Trek franchise ever. I'm musing about the Ferengi Rules of Acquisition when Ray Davies joins the duo for a rendition of "Act Nice and Gentle." To her credit, Nellie McKay finally distracts me when she comes out to perform an impressive three-song set. I know that I'll go home and hate her debut album, but she's really impressive live. She also wins me over by not making some kind of moronic political statement.

My only real complaint-and maybe I'm just high-is that I'm fairly sure both McKay and Glass introduce Marc Anthony Thompson as "Marc Anthony." By any name-including the former moniker of Chocolate Genius-Thompson comes out with the resident string section of the Scorchio Quartet and delivers an amazing set of new songs.

Still, we learn about the night's real star power when Thompson introduces former Phish guy Trey Anastasio as a member of his backing band. The crowd goes wild, and that marijuana makes a little more sense.

Anastasio rotates to the mic for another truly impressive set of gorgeous orchestral pop. It was always understood that he had a secret side, but this is a major step forward from his old solo work. The Scorchio Quartet then gets their own showcase with selections from Glass's original score to the 1931 Dracula. But judging from the rush in the aisles, they might as well be playing "Let's all go to the lobby?" Maybe a lot of people have picked up that contact high.

Ray Davies then returns to announce that he'll be skipping his hits and performing "some of my flops." Those turn out to be a lovely tour through a Village Green medley. Then it's a big sing-along to "Sunny Afternoon," followed by the arena rock of "Lola" with backing from Patti Smith's band.

In a move that's both stunning and sadistic, Antony has to follow with a somber tune on piano. He looks like he's about to cry, but that's Antony's standard shtick. So's the spastic fidgeting. He manages a gorgeous rendition of the best song from his new I Am a Bird Now album, and the audience's warm response probably isn't inspired by pity.

I've now completely bought into this night as being a wonderful experience. Lou Reed takes the stage, and he's welcome to hit me with his worst shot from, say, The Raven. Instead, it's a charming rendition of "Perfect Day." All that's left is an appearance by Patti Smith. How could that possibly go wrong?

Things start off promisingly with a spoken-word piece accompanied by Glass on piano. Then her band joins in for "Ghost Dance" and "Peaceable Kingdom." Neither of those is a particularly great song, but they've each got a folksy vibe. Lenny Kaye's a great guitarist, and he's able to get me pretending that I'm listening to some Phil Ochs outtakes.

And then, thar she blows. Patti closes the evening with "People Have the Power," but not before explaining, "Many of us after the election might have felt disillusioned, disenfranchised..."-and a whole bunch of other "dis" words. Then she notes, "We cannot be defeated!" Further helpful hints include, "We can write our Congressmen!"

And her big finish is, "It's not going to end in Iraq!"

It would be nice to pretend that Patti is hoping that democracy isn't going to end in Iraq. Instead, she's speaking in defense of tyranny. That's a screwy message for what's supposedly a benefit for Tibet. All the other musicians come onstage to provide some implicit endorsement, which isn't sufficient to make a lame tune sound like an anthem.

I'm left pondering why freedom is good for monks but bad for Muslims. It might be fun to ask the performers, but Trey's the only one I see backstage. Then I end up next to one of the chanting Drepung Gomang monks. At least I think he's one of the chanters-he's holding the two horns that were used during the chants. Maybe the guy's just a holy roadie.

Anyway, I approach him with an innocent question. "Hey," I ask, "wouldn't it be great if Tibet was liberated like Iraq was?"

He looks at me like I'm trying to sell him a Chairman Mao t-shirt. "No," he finally replies. "That is very different."

I have to ask. "How is that different?"

"It is war," he intones.

Not to claim humanitarian one-upmanship here, but I was giving money to oppressed Tibetan monks back when Richard Gere was auditioning for American Gigolo. Is it too late to get that money back? With that monk's attitude, I can try asking at the 50th Annual Benefit Concert for Tibet. Either that, or the First Annual Benefit Concert to Protest a Republican President's Liberation of Tibet. Happy New Year, hippies.