Like countless others my
first exposure to Lou Reed was from the unlikely Top Forty success of Walk on the Wild Side. I was only eleven
or twelve years old when somehow program directors in America’s Heartland found
it within themselves to squeeze that piece of gritty streetwise doo-wop in between
Rock the Boat and Already Gone. When you think about it
there’s never really been another hit
song like it, one that, if not exactly celebrates, then casually reveals (revels?) a musical portrayal of
alternative lifestyles. Only much later did I find out that David Bowie was
involved in the song and so perhaps his
involvement opened the door for radio to at least give it a listen. After all,
Bowie was already enjoying his own popular success at the time.
The first Lou Reed album I
bought was New Sensations. In
retrospect I doubt that there are too many Lou Reed fans that can say their own
long strange trip with the man began with that particular recording from 1984.
But I will sheepishly raise my hand and now admit that personally I never
particularly cared for the exalted Velvet Underground anthems that so many
claim as manna. Sure, I have an appreciation for Sweet Jane, Heroin and Pale Blue Eyes, of Nico and John Cale
and the entire Warhol thing, but that just wasn't my experience. And for a time throughout the 80s and 90s (a long time) the VU was so often mentioned
as an influence for up and coming bands that I suspected that no one wanted to
be left off that hip graffiti-smacked subway train. It almost became a cliché to
mention the VU as an influence.
But for me it was You broke my heart and you made me cry and
said that I couldn’t dance...
I bought just about every
record that followed and would have to state that for me the man’s masterwork
was 1989s New York. A complete
artistic statement regarding the streets he mostly loved but sometimes loathed and the city's huge role in its representation of the American (mis)Ideal & Dream. It wasn’t all blowjobs in
the back alley – there was the statue of bigotry pissin’ all over everybody and
NASA even blew up the moon. Straw Man
and Dime Store Mystery were both huge
musical statements that summarized and punctuated that wonderful recording.
Now the guy was never really a guitar wizard
unless you considered the right note at the right time pure genius (I did) and appreciated
three or four (sometimes five) chords delivered with feeling and perfect tonal
feedback. Yet despite all the grit, all the punk growl and junkie spin, Lou
Reed always seemed more than willing to expose his raw and vulnerable side. The
fact of the matter is Lou Reed’s music is sweet.
Everybody took their own unique ride
with Lou and I took mine on the back of that GPZ cruising through the mountains
and the Delaware Gap. We even stopped at a hillbilly diner and had us a burger
and a coke. Now I’m not saying my ride was the right one or the best one but it
certainly was mine and I fuckin' own it.
I've been reading some tweets
about Lou since his death was made public and one stands out. Somebody tweeted I knew his nephew who said he was always looking out windows.
So
what was he looking at?
It would be easy to just reply ah hell, who cares, we’ll never know but then again there’s this sprawling musical legacy that he gifted us with which offers rough hints and glorious clues. So although I can say that I have my own suspicions the rest will always remain beautiful conjecture.
Carry on my good man...
Posts
