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| "What are you going to wear to tomorrow's party, Lou?" asked Nico. "I'm wearin' it, stupid." |
I like the honesty of it. And I really loved the seven
retweets and four favorites! That’s the most reaction any of my Tweets have
ever got!
I liked Lou Reed. I like some of Lou’s music, certainly not
all of it, but I really loved where Lou had been. He slipped into the asshole of a
dirty vintage New York City
and opened up all of his senses, at a time when any normal person would have
shut them all down. Granted, those experiences ultimately killed him, but not
until he was 71. So, thanks to Lou, we don’t have to go downtown, shoot smack,
fuck some trannies, and guzzle gallons of Scotch… unless we really wanted to,
because Lou has written a few songs on those activities.
I honestly do respect the kind of dick Lou was, or the kind
of dick I thought he was from reading shit about him, listening to some of his
more difficult records, or hearing firsthand accounts of his difficult ways.
To a youngster like me, Lou Reed was a persona first and an
artist/musician second. I heard more about him than I actually heard from
him. I grew up listening to Classic Rock
and the one station worth listening to always slipped “Walk On The Wild Side”
in between Led Zeppelin and The Who tracks, but that was it. When I started
developing my own tastes, I wasn't gonna run out and by The Velvet Underground
And Nico or Lou’s Transformer when I was 14, cause I was too busy buying Dead
Milkmen and Run D.M.C. albums on cassette. My first Lou Reed purchase didn't come until 1989, when I bought New
York because I fell in love with “Dirty Blvd. ” In my young little pea
brian… Lou Reed was a weird asshole who was a million times cooler than his
music. Or, so I thought.
Then I got older. I listened to and decided what I was gonna
like and what I wasn't gonna like from Lou’s catalog. I got jobs in radio, met
and interviewed Rock Stars and became numb to the whole “persona” thing. I had
seen behind the curtain and musicians were either good or bad, cool or cocks. I
was no longer interested in whatever bullshit “artists” were pushing to move
their “image” in whatever direction they were looking to blow it. Perfectly
demonstrated by Alice Cooper, Meatloaf and the little piece of ass that played Wendy in the Porky's movies in this wonderful clip from the movie
Roadie:
Alice Cooper doesn't want to feed anybody’s Frankenstein or
act like anything other than himself offstage… unless you make him. Lou Reed
was some weird version of Lou Reed all the time. That’s something that always
bothered me about Joe Strummer too. Was there a Lou Reed, who would wake up on
Saturday morning, throw on jeans and a t-shirt, run to the hardware store, pick
up that thing to fix the toilet, be pleasant to the cashier, shoot the shit
with a fan on the corner, go home, fix the toilet, and then watch Caddyshack on
HBO? I dunno, maybe. Do I want that? No. Was there ten different Lou Reed
personalities and nine were kinda douchey? Mos def. Do I want that? Yeah, I
guess so.
I didn't think it was very odd that the L.A. Times began a
memorial for Lou, with this quote from Lester Bangs:
“Lou Reed is the guy that gave dignity and poetry and rock
'n' roll to smack, speed, homosexuality, sadomasochism, murder, misogyny,
stumblebum passivity, and suicide, and then proceeded to belie all his
achievements and return to the mire by turning the whole thing into a
monumental joke ...,"
Initially, I thought that sentence was kind of harsh, but as
I read and re-read some of Bangs’ accounts of Lou, it’s pretty much the nicest
thing anybody could have said about him, because Bangs understood him. I
certainly didn't understand Lou or have a fucking inkling of where he was
coming from.
Leslie Fram, a program director I used to work for, had a
story of seeing Lou perform at a benefit show or as part of someone else’s set,
I can’t remember the details of the show, but what I do remember was her saying
that Lou was acting like a “grumpy old man” and spent a chunk of his time on
stage “lecturing the audience.” Classic Lou! The audience didn't know how to
enjoy live music and he needed to correct them. I wish I was there.
I had sat in a room while Damon Albarn was telling the story
of Lou Reed recording a track for Gorrillaz. When Albarn finished, I said,
“Sounds like he was kind of an asshole.” He shot me a weird, yet thoughtful
look and replied, “No, I didn’t say that… you did.” The four of us in the room
shared one of those little hiccup type laughs. Not a full chuckle, but a very
minimalist humorous reaction to acknowledge Albarn’s point. He wasn't saying
anything bad about Lou, he just relayed an experience exactly how it happened…
and whatever anyone thought after they heard it, was their opinion.
Going back to my Tweet, that’s what my opinion of Lou Reed
is… he was a dick. But, I respected that dick. I only wish I had met him and
he was awful to me, just once. Then I’d have had a better story for this thing
that I just wrote.
This is probably the hippest collection of Oldies on the
planet. The Velvet Underground lyrically dug around in the muck, but with a rather tame Peter,
Paul & Mary play a biker bar panache.
I have mixed feelings about Nico. I simultaneously want to punch her and/or gently run my hands along her soft milky skin for hours.
I have mixed feelings about Nico. I simultaneously want to punch her and/or gently run my hands along her soft milky skin for hours.
I really don’t know when I should be listening to The Velvet
Underground. It doesn't fit my day-to-day lifestyle, but it needs a place in
there somewhere. I guess the perfect place for this band would be:
1. Dive bars after two in the morning.
2. Smelly thrift
shops where the girl behind the counter has a busted face, a really nice skinny
body, and a two dollar fashion sense. She’d be overly nice, in an annoying way,
forcing me to debate whether or not I’d bang her, if given the chance. Then at
the register I’d finally get the chance to give her a really solid once over and
the answer is a reluctant “yeah, but I’m not gonna tell anyone for a long time,
cause that would give me a chance to embellish the story and make it sound
really better than just sad sex with an ugly skinny mushy hippie.” (These are
the conversations I have in my head most of the day.)
3. On an infinite loop at Patti Smith’s house. (Patti’s
house is very similar to the thrift shop scenario.)
Having said all that, The Velvet Underground is so fucking cool to listen to. I
actually felt about 75% cooler while I was listening. Secretly hoping somebody really cool would walk into the room and
say something like, “Velvet Underground. Nice. I’ll suck your dick for 12
dollars.” And I’d have to refuse the offer because I only have a twenty on me, and
somebody sucking you off for a bump isn't gonna make change… believe me. I
guess that’s the point of The Velvet Underground, drug addicts charge weird
amounts of money for blowjobs. Oh, and selling out IS for everyone. (See; “Who
Loves The Sun”) Unless, I totally missed the point of what The Velvet
Underground was trying to do.
“She’s busy sucking on my ding-dong.” – “Sister Ray,” by The
Velvet Underground – 1968.
“Everything is jokes to this bibulous bozo; he really makes
a point of havin' some fun!” – Lester Bangs on Lou Reed – 1973
"I would like to live to a ripe old age and raise
watermelons in Wyoming ."
– Lou Reed – 1973
“Lou Reed's finally got a chance at real sustained stardom,
and he is blowing it. He's still riding on the legend now, but people are going
to get tired damn fast of a legend who slunks out with a bunch of blobs behind
him, sings his songs as if he's falling asleep, forgets the words half the
time, stands as still as if he's embalmed except for remembering every five
minutes or so to wiggle his ass or wave his hand whether it's really the time
to do it or not. His whole career at this point is like welching out on a bet.”
– Lester Bangs on Lou Reed – 1973
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