Halloween Parade

This Halloween is something to be sure
Especially to be here without you

Lou Reed just passed away. My emotional reaction to the news has been surprisingly heavy. Lou occupies a complex, but I've concluded integral, place in my emotional landscape. I can't honestly say that I was as flat-out obsessed with his music the way I am with some other songwriters. But statistically, I own more of his albums than most everyone else in my collection. (A consequence of his output being so prolific, and so consistently interesting.) While some of these albums aren't, I think, objectively great artistic achievements, there are none that I regret owning or spending time getting to know. (Although I got precariously close with The Bells -- see "Disco Mystic" -- but time reveals all.) That's not something I can say about many songwriters, even my favourites -- and why is that? Quite simply, I've concluded, because Lou never seemed to deviate from his deeply idiosyncratic and personal sense of what's good and what makes a suitable subject for a song -- a sense that sometimes happened to match with the winds of the time (the Velvet's early catalogue, Transformer, et cetera). In the consistent pursuit of this simple philosophy, he's left us with one of the most intriguing back catalogues in the rock songwriter canon. And it's not just nostalgia at play here -- I took it upon myself tonight to re-listen to some songs that have I've had an emotional connection to for some time. (It's always too late that one cherishes what one has, I know.) I finished one song, and then remembered another, and another, and...have concluded that, completely unbeknownst to me, Lou seems to have written as many classic songs as many songwriter peers I seem to more instinctively call favourites -- Simon, Prine, McComb, and any of the other new Dylans.

Given that we're talking about a songwriter here, knowing me, it should be no surprise that my emotional connection runs deep and has only only strengthened with time. In fact, Lou's music goes all the way back to my early days of infatuation with rock music. At some point when foraging through Starostin's site, I came across a blurb of this interesting sounding band, the Velvet Underground. It turned out that their lead singer did that "Walk on the Wild Side" song I had somehow heard, so I was intrigued. More research revealed Peel Slowly to be regarded a (once) underground classic, and so the budding elitist in me was even more on board. Excitedly purchasing the CD from Borders, I popped it in expected to be drowned in feedback and tales from the dark side of the tracks...and the speakers played "Sunday Morning". Weird! Perhaps it was all the training from my Dylan obsession, but I'm proud to say I had the foresight to recognise this song, and "I'll Be Your Mirror" as indicators of there being something different about this avant-garde band. Namely, that this Lou fellow who wrote the lyrics seemed remarkably diverse, incisive, and honest when he felt appropriate. Yes, "Heroin" and the rest were interesting from a historical perspective, but what I took out of "Venus in Furs" more than anything were the oddly resonant lines, like "I could sleep for a thousand years".

Spurred by this interest came further exploration of his early output, starting with the Velvet's self-titled third album. Amazingly, it turned out to be an album that more than matched all my unrealistic expectations, even if at the time I clearly over-praised it in my head. I was positively obsessed about this record, all the way from "Candy Says" to that unforgettable closer. At one point, I thought that playing "Jesus" on the guitar was the only way to get to the kingdom. And this reminds of the impact Lou had. Younger, more innocent times, set to a rowdy rock 'n roll soundtrack, with occasionally fantastic lyrics when you least expected it...no other way. Yes, those were times when the world was young. Rock 'n roll was the only thing worth living for. Ten years on, I couldn't have been more right.

From thereon in, things progressed at not quite the pace I would have predicted -- while I devoured Transformer soon enough after the Velvets, I don't think I got to the later classics like The Blue Mask until quite a bit later. (It was an exciting time, with a lot of music to get through, you understand.) Oh, The Blue Mask, now that was the definitive proof that this was a pretty damn unique songwriter. I'd never heard anyone write songs like "My House" before. (Even if I did, none of them had as great a sonic feel to them.) Lou seemed to be able to marry his poetic and musical sensibilities in a very everyman sort of way -- the stuff he wanted to write about was what was happening in his life, very plainly and without any needless flourish or bombast. And unlike the attempts at confessional songwriting of some of his peers, it wasn't just because bad stuff had gone down in his life (Blood on the Tracks, Tonight's the Night, Plastic Ono Band, ...) This was just his everyday life, watching the Canadian geese go by as he thought fondly about an old friend. Or how his media profile said nothing about what he was like in his daily life ("Average Guy"). Or of course he much he cared for his wife at the time ("Heavenly Arms"). Lou introduced me to songwriting that was personal not to offload one's problems to the listener (a sometimes terrific aesthetic), but simply to work out in song the issues one faces and grapples with everyday.

And his permanence was sealed with New York. Lord what a record. The best way I could describe it at the time was adult album-rock, where the "adult" was a way of expressing that the emotions and ideas expressed here were non-trivial, subtle, and not always with resolution. (Take "Endless Cycle" for example.) It's still rather amazing he came up with such a consistent collection of songs in what is described as an offhand manner. I've already cited instances of idiosyncratic songwriting style, but one more -- "Last Great American Whale"! The setup is fantastically unexpected given the message, and the words never disappoint in their combination of specificities and absurdities. This record was the summer of '09 for me, and ever since I decided that there was no such thing as a perfunctory Lou record. I'll admit to having not thoroughly heard a couple of his more challenging efforts (I suppose I should add Lulu to that list), but I doubt my stance will change now. That's part of why I'm shocked -- I was always expecting there'd be another album, and another. Albums to grow old with, to remind you of the journey from waiting for the man to sitting by your bedside at 3AM.

Perhaps music means too much to me.  It may seem odd that I should be so affected by the mere passing of a musician. But this is stuff that gets so deep in your head, your consciousness, your soul. When you're all alone, by yourself, as the world is rallying around you, baying for your blood (or so it seems). The music is your only friend. These artists tell you that whatever emotion you're feeling, it has some root in another human's experience. You may be maladjusted, not the person you think you see in others, but that's nothing new. People have spent their whole lives thinking this way. In this sense, I find much more of a personal connection with songwriters compared to, say, authors, filmmakers, and the like. Not only am I hearing the songwriters' thoughts and feelings expressed, they're the ones speaking them to me directly.

I wonder if these guys know what power their music has. Through continents, decades, cultures, the mysteries of popular song affects someone -- someone who tunes out all the superficial details that speak nothing to him, such as drug use and other deviancy. Because that's exactly what it was, superficial. Reed's strength wasn't so much that he discussed these things, but that he discussed anything that happened in his life, in a casual, matter-of-fact style that gave off bewilderment that there should be anything wrong singing about the subject -- be it getting to the kingdom through substances ("Heroin"), remembering a mentor and friend ("My House"), or taking a good look at yourself and deciding that it's time for a change ("Set the Twilight Reeling").

Whatever vague picture of Lou I've painted in my head, and tried clumsily to pay homage to in this post, is probably not quite the truth. For all I know he thought songwriting was a joke and wrote lyrics like he did grocery lists. (Now that's a potential song subject I'd have loved to have heard him tackle.) But that's not the point. By virtue of being able to move me and so many others so deeply, for so many years, means that Lou is one of those rare immortals. Someone was able to create this complex body of work, was able to make his distinct voice heard, was able to pursue his own artistic vision consistently and courageously through the years, highs and lows and all. As much as one can apportion thanks and inspiration to an individual, I owe more than I can measure to Lou's music. The thought that he was out there, walking through the Village, off-handedly writing down new lyrics for songs made me smile. It gave me belief in the perseverance of the spirit. It's a different feeling that I've got today, to be sure, but with the music as a steady soundtrack to whatever adventures await, there might be hope yet.

The end of the last temptation
The end of a dime store mystery.

I've commented at least a couple of times previously that despite owning so many of his albums, I still feel like I haven't the faintest idea what makes Lou Reed tick. I suspect this is a sentiment that will only strengthen with time. (This isn't apropos Lulu specifically, but it is a good example.) I find myself unable to answer the most basic questions about what his music is about, and sometimes unable to assess if at the end of it all, the guy is good or not. It's true that he's come up with some unusual -- sometimes jarring, sometimes humorous -- rhymes and lines, which it's convenient to attribute to his being natural. But that's a potentially oversimplifying judgement, one that could apply to near anyone. What is it that makes the music interesting? What occurs to me is that you get the sense that you are learning something about him when you listen to his albums. And it isn't just that he pours out the complex emotions that broil inside; in the course of an average song, it's as if he's just chatting with you about what's currently on his mind. This simple fact opens many possible points of empathetic connection. Even when the songs are throwaways, they come across as heartfelt by virtue of there being no (indication of) pretense in the writing. And when they're about weighty concepts, the blunt, almost clumsy way he writes about them makes it seem impossible that it's any form of posturing. In sum: he means what he says, and he has things to say. Which is a rarity in any form of art.

I put on Paul Simon's "My Little Town" yesterday, and sure enough, it reminded me of Lou Reed's "Smalltown". I was going to say they make me feel nostalgic, but that's not the right word; neither song is a fond recollection of good times, after all ("But the best part about growing up in a small town / Is that you get to grow down in a small town"*). They're both tinged with sadness, but what's strange is that it's almost as though they make me wish I were from a tiny town of my own, even though I can't relate to either song. I suppose there's just something powerful in the image of growing up in a small little town, so much so that it makes me wish it were true of me.

* Lou Reed may be a fine lyricist in most cases, but sometimes it's just the way he recites words that make them memorable. You really lose a lot when you read his lines without his delightful intonation speaking them to you (these lines are hardly poetic, but there's something hidden in the way he says them).

Hey now! John Cale picks Highway 61 Revisited as one of his favourite albums in the regular Rolling Stone page on artists' picks. He even goes on to say how Lou Reed and him would sit down and listen to Dylan on the radio, wondering how his increasing aggression would pan out (culminated, he says, by "Positively 4th Street"). God knows what all that stuff I read on the net about the intense dislike the Velvets had for Dylan was going on about (things which I wailed about here and here, for instance). Actually, Reed probably did say all that stuff in '76, he's one wacky fella.

Why the continued fascination on other people's opinions on Dylan? I have no idea, to be honest. I don't know why it should bother me even if Lou Reed dislikes him to the day (wouldn't explain his appearance at Bob's 30th anniversary special, though!). I guess at heart it's a curiosity of whether two people I respect don't appreciate each other (actually, I've never heard Dylan say anything about Lou), and if so, why that is the case. I guess at some point one has to give up, and put it down to personality mismatches. I mean, hey, this is Lou Reed we're talking about, after all!

I don't know what I want the truth to be - that these guys should have had more of a Beatles-Stones relationship (rivalry on the surface combined with goodwill underneath)? Ah heck, this is all so trivial! But alas, it's hard to let go! Surely time is better spent on more important matters; like, say, finding out what really went on between Morrissey and Robert Smith.

I don't normally post entire song lyrics*, but today I'll make an exception. Here's a lyric that is dedicated to a certain Miss Zhu, courtesy of my good friend, the rock star and poet extraordinaire Lou Reed.

I'll be your mirror,
Reflect what you are, in case you don't know
I'll be the wind, the rain and the sunset
The light on your door to show that you're home
When you think the night has seen your mind
That inside you're twisted and unkind
Let me stand to show that you are blind
Please, put down your hands
Because I see you
I find it hard to believe you don't know
The beauty that you are
But if you don't let me be your eyes
A hand in your darkness, so you won't be afraid
When you think the night has seen your mind
That inside you're twisted and unkind
Let me stand to show that you are blind
Please put down your hands
Because I see you
I'll be your mirror

Oh how I wish I could write like that! I do apologize Miss Zhu if this seems rather impersonal, but I truly don't think I can put it better than how Reed has done it here.

* What is it that makes me not prone to posting entire lyrics? I think it's because too many other bloggers do it, and so I sort of feel like I should refrain from the norm (as you can tell, my blog has always been boldly pushing the envelope, and has tried its hardest to take blogging onto a new level). It's a bit weird how I try so hard to be distinguish myself sometimes.

Transformer was Reed's breakthrough album, where he managed to reach commercial success by "embracing" glam-rock and coming up with what is often considered one of the best albums of the entire genre; although, whether it really is glam-rock or is just loosely based around it is debatable. Regardless, it is by far Reed's most popular and well known album, and it's easy to see (or rather hear) why. Collaborating with Bowie, Reed went on a considerably different path to some of the Velvet Underground's albums. Now, I don't know about all this glam-rock nonsense, but the melodies are mighty fine. Heck, there isn't a single really weak track on here as far I can tell.

The opener is the delicious "Vicious", which opens with the absurd "Vicious / You hit me with a flower", at which point you just know that it's something else (apparently, Andy Warhol told Reed to write a song called "Vicious" that was "Vicious, like, you hit me with a flower"). Reed's vocals are stunning. I don't often say that, but it's true. The best I can describe it is Dylan for the masses - which I suppose would be Dylan minus nicotine (though not without heroin, eh?). Dylan takes a while to get used to, but his intonations are wonderful once you get accustomed to his voice. Starostin calls Reed "the best Dylan imitator in history", and I would agree. Some people say they can't hear the similarity, but I don't see how. Sure, the voice is different, but it's the intonations, the phrasings that Reed has perfectly captured. Anyhow, "Vicious" has a nice riff with hilarious lyrics ("Vicious / Hey, why don't you swallow razor blades"). Priceless.

"Perfect Day" has such a (dare I say it?) perfect chorus. Heh not really, but I couldn't resist. What does strike you is that Reed, who was involved with such, ah, works of noise (to put it politely) as White Light/White Heat actually has strings in this song. It's odd to hear Reed singing something so mellow and beautiful; is this the same guy who wrote "Sister Ray"? You never can pin this guy down, he's always got a few surprises up his sleeve. I suppose he wasn't afraid to try anything, which is good - he didn't try to keep up a tough-guy image, he just did whatever he felt like. Then we have "Hangin' Round" - now this is pure rock 'n roll, baby! I read somewhere that Dylan was on the road somewhere when he heard a Beatles song on the radio. He stopped the car and started madly thumping the car to the beat of the song. I was tempted to do the same with this song - once the chorus hits, ooh man, it's pure gold. Yes, it's no "Day In The Life", but it's enjoyable nonetheless darn it! And isn't that what's important? The answer, of course, is no.

Of course, the most famous song off this album is "Walk on the wild side", with the subdued shuffling beat and the "Do do doo do doo doo do doo" chorus. But I don't think it's the best song on here. More on that later. The song seems innocent enough, but they mask the lyrics about transvestites and other interesting personalities whom he came across in Warhol's factory. A bit off-putting, actually, since you want to love the song, but for me it's a little hard when I hear of people who "shaved her leg and then he was a she"..anyway, "Satellite Of Love"'s ending is precious - well I like it anyway. That's Bowie doing the "Satelliiiiiiiite", by the way; yep, amazing huh? The song reminds of something else, but I can't quite put my finger on it.

On the whole, pretty darn good, I'd say. My only complaint would be that the album gets a little limp towards the end. The cabaret-flavoured "Goodnight Ladies", for one, doesn't do anything for me, but that's forgiveable, it's over quickly enough. Extremely consistent, and always entertaining - minimal filler and wonderful melodies. How can you go wrong? It's too hard to pick a favourite song. "Vicious"? "Perfect Day"? "Walk on the wild side"? "Satellite Of Love"? Heck they're all great. Even the minor numbers are nothing to be ashamed of (like, say, "Make up" - I'm telling you now, the "You're a slick little girl" line is inexplicably infectious). Amazing stuff! I haven't really dug deep into '70s rock by any means, but I think this is up there among the best of them. Although Band On The Run might have something to say about that, eh? Oh wait a second, the '70s was when Plastic Ono Band came out, so Transformer is at best #2. Hmm and of course we have Rust Never Sleeps. Ya know what, let's leave it at "this is a great album", and save the "Ohhh my album is better than your album" stuff for another day.

Update 4/10/05: Just a quick word to say I now find this is so charmingly naive. Especially the bit at the end about it being one of the best, ah...! Would it still make my top 10 for '70s albums? Possibly, though I think Eno and his collaborations are currently swimming towards the top of my list.

 

Hoho, I don't get Lou Reed. In 1976, he apparently claimed Dylan's worth was "two, maybe three songs", and that "It’s unfortunate for Dylan that studio techniques have improved to the point that it’s very hard for him to conceal any longer how musically bad he is". Sigh. I really don't get it - has he heard himself on any of his albums? He's..he's imitating Dylan perfectly. Does he seriously not recognize that? For some reason, I find it so funny when he does some songs, probably because I can predict exactly which words he's going to stress and accentuate. Truly amazing.

There's more, of course. He said Van Morrison only had one good song (Madame George, off Astral Weeks), and that while Neil Young was a good guitarist, his lyrics were "so stupid … so West Coast dumb". Mr. Reed, really. Heh, he sure seems like the atypical heartless so and so, but unfortunately some of his stuff is really good. If he was implying that he was better than the rest of them, though, I'd have to disagree. No doubt he was good, but rock 'n roll messiah he was not.

Of course, just because he imitates Dylan doesn't mean that it's hypocritical for him to dismiss Dylan. But it isn't in very good taste, that's for sure. And what's more, it seems a bit facetious, and purposely controversial. Perhaps if it were an artist of lesser repute, but Dylan? Nah, you have to provide some substantial reason to be taken seriously and not look like a total jerk. Then again, maybe he just wanted to get a few kicks. After all, he did have his "bad boy" image to preserve.

It also seems that Reed isn't the only one who isn't gaga over Dylan - fellow Velvet Underground bandmate Sterling Morrison confesses that he is a "Dylan hater". Sterling also thinks rock music isn't meant to be listened to for the lyrics, which is actually quite interesting. Maybe I'll write about that later on. There must be something about that band, eh? Yet their first album is so good..shucks, the inconsistencies are maddening. Not that I'd bash VU if they were really bad , of course.

It would appear that he changed his mind before he appeared on Dylan's 30th Anniversary concert celebration though, when he perfomed a hard-rocking version of Foot Of Pride. I wonder what would've happened backstage on that day...

An old saying that goes with the first VU album is that virtually no one heard it, but whoever did formed a band. After reading that and listening to the album, there's no way that you can't think the same thing! There probably isn't a weak song in the darn thing, actually, except of course the disastrous European Son. But otherwise, it's got it all - dark lyrics, creepy violas, eastern & German influences, and Dylan imitations! Heh couldn't resist that last one. But it's a seriously good album, and probably a must-have in any rock fan's collection - the sound is rather unique. After all this talk about Reed, I am a bit miffed with the band, but I forgive them.