One day, I will be able to tell my hypothetical children about how I saw Lou Reed before he hypothetically left for whiter, warmer pastures. And of course these hypothetical children will hypothetically care about their father’s nerd-like musical obsessions and/or have any earthly idea who Lou Reed is.
For those of you somewhat like these imagined offspring, a wee bit of background. Before the mainstream excesses of punk rock and glam rock in the 70s, there was the controversial nature of The Velvet Underground, a New York based band rocking out in and around the early 60s and fronted by. . .any guesses? The Underground were originally produced by Andy Warhol in the studio, as well as flanked by European pop star Nico. Eventually the show boiled down to Reed and his bandmates, and after a handful of exemplary albums (Velvet Underground & Nico, the first record, is my favorite) the band dissolved and Lou took his act solo.
So then, to establish a setting: It’s June of 2005, and my friend Sam knows levels more about Lou than I do. At this time, I know next to nothing, as it was Sam’s influence that sparked my interest in Reed to begin with. At any rate, both of ours heard about the (then) annual Music Midtown Celebration in Atlanta hosting a slew of great bands this year – Pixies, The White Stripes, The Killers – and among the all-star cast was the former VU frontman himself. The tickets were costly, but for Truth we knew we had to pick up the cause on this one.
Lou played on the first day, and, sadly, played opposite Interpol, a band I was (and am) extremely enamored with. While I initially opted to attend parts of both shows, I was not prepared for what was to happen that day. For when Lou got on the stage, when he played the opening chords and sang the opening verses to songs I would never recognize, I was. . .well, entranced really. Magic imagery works really well alongside music, and I think its shows like this one that provide evidence as to why. It wasn’t that I was particularly impressed by the style or the mastery of his performance that got me – it was simply what I saw in my mind when I looked into Reed’s aged face. I thought about everything he had seen in his days. Surely there were a plethora of crazy stories from the 60s and 70s written on that face, locked behind those eyes. Those eyes. . .those eyes had laid sight on men like David Bowie and Iggy Pop. I wondered if Lou ever saw anything differently himself after moments like that.
So I can say, to whoever may care, that I saw the hell out of Lou Reed. No I didn’t see him in his early days, when energy may have been less precious and the constant mainlining would have ensured an intriguing show, but I saw him after those days had left their toll on him, as well as his eyes, and so in a way I think I’ve seen some facets of Lou Reed vicariously. I fell in love that day. Transfomer has since become a part of my library, while Reed himself has become part of my vocabulary. Such a perfect day. . .
