Lou Reed, R.I.P. -- A Little Late, I'm Afraid

Lou Reed, R.I.P.

            “Between thought and expression, lies a lifetime” – Lou Reed

            On Sunday, October 27^th, I found out that Lou Reed died. He was 71. His death was apparently due to a liver transplant that failed. I was in shock. Lou Reed is one of my favorite musicians, and I could not believe he was gone.

            Will Shatter also counted Lou and his old band, the Velvet Underground, as one of his faves. Since Reed wrote honestly about drug use and transgressive behavior, and was a raconteur who challenged the status quo, Will and Lou were zebras of the same stripe.

            The news that Lou Reed had died prompted a trek to the library to find out more online, and to post my thoughts, as minimal as they were, to my Facebook page. I was also feeling restless and didn’t want to sit at home, alone. I guess I would rather sit at the library alone, but near other people.

            As I set out to catch the bus, I wore my old leather jacket with the portrait of Lou on the back (painted by my friend Peter), and also my t-shirt with a picture of him from the “Transformer” era on it. I had my portable cd player to play his music, and as I waited for the bus, since nobody was near me, I sang the songs aloud.

            Lou Reed began his musical career as a staff songwriter for Pickwick Records in New York. Pickwick used to release cheap albums sold everywhere that were imitative of the hits of the day. His instructions – “write a surf song” or “write a doo-wop” song, made him fast on his feet and honed his songwriting chops.

            In the mid-Sixties, he formed the Velvet Underground with John Cale, Sterling Morrison, and Maureen Tucker. Combining basic rock with avant-garde classical, the Velvets, under the tutelage of Andy Warhol, gave Lou the outlet to pen songs with real themes in a literary ways. Most of the tunes, “Heroin”, “Waiting for the Man”, “Sister Ray”, and others, were not liable to ever be played on the radio. Reed wrote directly about the things only obliquely referred to in songs before. Cale provided bass, piano, or electric viola that added a jagged edge to Lou’s sometimes frantic, sometimes gentle rock.

            Reed had only one hit song, “Walk on the Wild Side”, with its lyrics about hustlers and transgendered folk, and the coolest bass line in rock. It was based on a book by the same name by Nelson Algren. Reed would continue to take inspiration from his favorite writers throughout his career.

            Reed was like a cool dad for me – one who could validate my sense of failure and awkwardness as he celebrated my uniqueness and rebellious qualities. Although I came to him late (1989, when I was 21), when I did I fell hard. I will always remember the first time I heard his “New York” album, and how it made me cry. It opened my heart, a heart that had been closed-up from drugs.

            In 1989, I fled the Seattle drug scene to work at Sequoia National Park, in California, for a summer. I knew that if I stayed in Seattle, I would die. I didn’t go to appreciate the beauty of the redwoods, or hike on my days off, although that eventually happened, but I felt like it was the right thing to do. Even though, there were drugs up there (mainly pot and acid), and alcohol, I was able to avoid my drug of choice (heroin), for a time.

            The employees stayed in cabins or a dorm. I was in the dorm. This guy Glen loaned me his copy of the “New York” cassette, and I loved it so much, I don’t know how long it took to give it back to him. All I know is that, at one of the dances we had there, I got the DJ to play “Busload of Faith”. My friend Doug and I danced to it, high on acid, and I’ll always hold that memory dear to my heart. Because Doug and I had been lying on top of Beetle Rock, feeling it breathe, when the song began. We danced down the rock, into the bright light of the dance, and tripped the light fantastic.

            Lou Reed played music for about fifty years. He also took photographs and practiced Tai Chi. It is such a loss, but we are all lucky for the time we had with him. I know that he shaped my heart and my mind and made me love him through his honest portrayal of life.

            I would like to think that when Lou got to the other side, Will was there to greet him, a big grin on his face. “Welcome to the real wild side”, said Will.  Then they went and jammed on “Waiting for the Man”.