Sharing a letter I wrote to some former bandmates about the passing of Lou Reed.
I’m not certain the exact time or place I first heardVelvet Underground and Nico – whether it was Duane’s cozy multi-couch basement where we heard so many amazing records, or perhaps at one of ‘the Gang’s’ spontaneous gatherings somewhere. But the moment I heard the ominous squeal of John Cale’s viola, the drone of Lou’s strangely tuned guitar and the icy beat of Maureen’s tambourine, like ghostly chains dragging across a dungeon floor on ‘Venus in Furs’ - I completely surrendered to the immediately compelling need to have this record for my very own. From that point on – the story of my life can forever be bookmarked by the works of Lou Reed. Each album has a place in my memory as definitive as the memories themselves. The songs are woven into the very tapestry of those experiences.
Bruce, Duane, Scott and I wore out a cassette copy of Reed’sNew York – driving through the narrow streets of Soho on the way to and fromLogic Downwards rehearsals.
Songs for Drella was strapped to my hip via a ‘CD walkman’ and accompanied me through countless miles in the tunnels of the NYC subways.
I started and ended many successive days with Magic and Loss –as ithelped me get through the long hours at Zabar’s.
There is not a Halloween in October without at least one complete playing of the forever brilliantly enigmatic ‘The Raven.’
These are just a few examples, but they stretch right up toLulu and often out of order. I didn’t come to appreciate Berlin andEcstasy until just a few years ago. The records found me when I was ready for them.
I think it is fair to say that we all took our cues from Lou. As those whose appreciation for music is paramount to our lives – he was our teacher. A loving, but stern father – who described life as it was – no matter how ugly, bitter, tormented or vile it could be. He shined light on the murky depths of all of our souls and made certain that we understood thatthese dark places exist in all of us. And he assembled these stories and lessons into musical structures that defied rules – purposely veering away from the mainstream. Upsetting the balance for the sake of upsetting it. He put lyrical verses in parts of songs where there was no room for all the words. And he put them there anyway. Always experimenting – always challenging the listeners, puzzling and damning the fans and the critics alike.
I have always marveled at Lou’s ability to capture moments and illustrate vivid scenes - scenes that stick in your head, even though much of the time you’d rather they not be stuck there. They aren’t songs you play casually. They’re songs that smack so much of the streets that you can practically smell the diesel and the urine, the steam boiled Coney Island dogs or the mustard on salted pretzels. You can feel the needles *****, hear the suffering and the sadness and the madness. The characters in the songs come to life, they look familiar – and you spend time with them – know them, love them, despise them, forsake them. You experience life through their eyes – sometimes it repulses you – and sometimes it changes you.
For me – no other artist quite captured New York City life like Lou. I’m certain that a part of New York City died with him.
Rest in peace, Lou - warrior, conqueror, poet of the streets.
I’m not certain the exact time or place I first heardVelvet Underground and Nico – whether it was Duane’s cozy multi-couch basement where we heard so many amazing records, or perhaps at one of ‘the Gang’s’ spontaneous gatherings somewhere. But the moment I heard the ominous squeal of John Cale’s viola, the drone of Lou’s strangely tuned guitar and the icy beat of Maureen’s tambourine, like ghostly chains dragging across a dungeon floor on ‘Venus in Furs’ - I completely surrendered to the immediately compelling need to have this record for my very own. From that point on – the story of my life can forever be bookmarked by the works of Lou Reed. Each album has a place in my memory as definitive as the memories themselves. The songs are woven into the very tapestry of those experiences.
Bruce, Duane, Scott and I wore out a cassette copy of Reed’sNew York – driving through the narrow streets of Soho on the way to and fromLogic Downwards rehearsals.
Songs for Drella was strapped to my hip via a ‘CD walkman’ and accompanied me through countless miles in the tunnels of the NYC subways.
I started and ended many successive days with Magic and Loss –as ithelped me get through the long hours at Zabar’s.
There is not a Halloween in October without at least one complete playing of the forever brilliantly enigmatic ‘The Raven.’
These are just a few examples, but they stretch right up toLulu and often out of order. I didn’t come to appreciate Berlin andEcstasy until just a few years ago. The records found me when I was ready for them.
I think it is fair to say that we all took our cues from Lou. As those whose appreciation for music is paramount to our lives – he was our teacher. A loving, but stern father – who described life as it was – no matter how ugly, bitter, tormented or vile it could be. He shined light on the murky depths of all of our souls and made certain that we understood thatthese dark places exist in all of us. And he assembled these stories and lessons into musical structures that defied rules – purposely veering away from the mainstream. Upsetting the balance for the sake of upsetting it. He put lyrical verses in parts of songs where there was no room for all the words. And he put them there anyway. Always experimenting – always challenging the listeners, puzzling and damning the fans and the critics alike.
I have always marveled at Lou’s ability to capture moments and illustrate vivid scenes - scenes that stick in your head, even though much of the time you’d rather they not be stuck there. They aren’t songs you play casually. They’re songs that smack so much of the streets that you can practically smell the diesel and the urine, the steam boiled Coney Island dogs or the mustard on salted pretzels. You can feel the needles *****, hear the suffering and the sadness and the madness. The characters in the songs come to life, they look familiar – and you spend time with them – know them, love them, despise them, forsake them. You experience life through their eyes – sometimes it repulses you – and sometimes it changes you.
For me – no other artist quite captured New York City life like Lou. I’m certain that a part of New York City died with him.
Rest in peace, Lou - warrior, conqueror, poet of the streets.
) in front of one of my idols. I had to keep my cool - he would never remember me - that was okay - I could give nothing to him. I thought - I'm not going to stop him in the middle of the street. I'll just take this experience for myself. BUT I HAVE TO TOUCH HIM. (Hoping to extract some form of that brilliance - hell, even the street grime on Lou Reed's jacket is inspirational!)
