Lou Reed died today (1 Viewer)

[David Kronenbourg]

Mistrial every time

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[7 - No tomorrow]

Eh...... yeah this is going to be hard but....eh........John Lennon yeah ? ......Brown bread mate.*

But you said Lou Reed was on the list. And I read somewhere that he died.

Anyway, I take your point. Both the larger one about legends and also the Lennon being dead one.

 

[washingcattle]

But you said Lou Reed was on the list. And I read somewhere that he died.

Anyway, I take your point. Both the larger one about legends and also the Lennon being dead one.

Yes he was on that list. Now he's not anymore.

 

[7 - No tomorrow]

I misinterpreted your contraction, sir.

 

[washingcattle]

I misinterpreted your contraction, sir.

I'm surprised people on here can understand a word I say to be honest.

 

[Jim Daniels]

Paul McLoone played 3 hours of Lou and the Velvets last night and every song sounded fantastic.

I had forgotten about this one. Good time music!

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[nooleen]

RIP Lou Reed Shirt // silver shirt by wethouse on Etsy

 

[Lili Marlene]

Lou Reed knew how to speak to the listener’s hidden heart - Music News | Gigs, Album Reviews & More | The Irish Times - Fri, Nov 01, 2013

a would-be deviant who courted existential clerkdom.

Under the conditions we’ve created in the bunker of “modern society”, the cry of the heart emerges only where it can be denied three times before the cock crows twice.

thanks Mr. Waters.

 

[7 - No tomorrow]

Lou Reed knew how to speak to the listener’s hidden heart - Music News | Gigs, Album Reviews & More | The Irish Times - Fri, Nov 01, 2013




thanks Mr. Waters.

He's a delicate, sensitive soul is our John.

 

[7 - No tomorrow]

I like this column. It's a music writer that is clueless about football trying to play fantasy football. He's also met Lou Reed.
I cut out the football parts.

I Suck at Football 2.8: The Ryan Kuhlman Era - The Triangle Blog - Grantland

I Suck at Football 2.8: The Ryan Kuhlman Era
By Alex Pappademas on October 30, 2013 2:05 PM ET

AP PHOTO/JAMES D. SMITH
My Wi-Fi has been down all day. One Chrome window hangs open and useless, a monument to the last thing I looked at before bed last night — Gmail, a message from my dad, with ads in the margins for Brazilian jiu-jitsu classes and fracking equipment, because apparently Gmail thinks I'm a wealthy supervillain. "These bleeding-heart environmentalists think they can stop me from using my MTU Series 400 drill-engine to puncture Earth's precious gas pockets? Not if my fists and feet have anything to say about it!"

Among other things, this interruption of service means I've missed all the what–Lou Reed–meant-to-me essays, which is probably a good thing, even though I'm sure yours was great and your story about where you were the first time you heard "Lisa Says" was better than everybody else's. It's nobody's fault, but once the think-piece stage of the mourning process passes the 24-hour mark, I get cranky, trollish, like I want to write DOUG/YULE on the proximal phalanges of all my fingers and go around punching people. But since I was watching the Cowboys-Lions game at Ye Rustic on Sunday when I found out Lou Reed died, that makes Lou technically part of this week's football action, so here's my Lou story.

I saw him out in public three times total. Once on the street in San Francisco with Laurie Anderson, once at a sushi restaurant in Manhattan. He was really starting to resemble Fran Lebowitz by then; it's as if all pure products of New York eventually age into the same person. But this is about the first time. During my first and only year at Syracuse University, which happens to also be Reed's alma mater, my friend Rob and I were both obsessed with Psychotic Reactions and Carburetor Dung — a posthumously collected anthology of work by deceased gonzo rock critic Lester Bangs — and Lou Reed's famously unlistenable 1975 album Metal Machine Music, which neither of us had ever heard. Bangs and Reed had a performatively contentious Ali-Cosell kind of relationship in the '70s. When Reed released MMM, four sides of songless electronic feedback, Bangs wrote about it as if Reed had made it specifically to challenge and torment Lester and test his tolerance for both noise and pretension.

Rob and I wanted to hear this record very badly. This was in the mid-'90s, when the web browser was essentially a modified cotton gin, "music on the Internet" was a Billy Idol CD-ROM taped to a cereal box, and being super-excited about Lou Reed's noise record was not a huge cliché, and if you wanted to hear a hard-to-find album, you had to walkthe earth. When you went places you wondered if it would be waiting there. You'd go to Northampton on a bus, and you'd talk to a record-store guy who'd tell you they didn't have it, but before you left he'd tell you in a low voice about this other dude he knew, who had an 8-track player bolted to the ceiling above his bed and used to leave Metal Machine Music playing on a loop all day long, and would just turn down the 8-track and turn up another, different stereo "if he wanted to listen to tunes."

If he wanted to listen to tunes. Which were for amateurs. I was no closer to hearing this record that so clearly dynamited the train tracks of life in front of anyone who came into contact with it, this apocalypse suite that made "Sister Ray" sound like "Sunday Morning." But I was on the trail. And I think I understood even then that the trail was more important than the destination. I never pledged a frat, but for months I was in a secret society of Metal Machine Music enthusiasts, me and Rob and Ceiling 8-Track Guy. We were trying to define ourselves by turning ourselves into people we thought Lester Bangs would have approved of. And we were figuring out how to love something while accepting and enjoying its ridiculousness. The real moral of the Bangs-Reed feud wasn't that noise was better than tunes. The moral was that a rock star could be both a creative Chuck Yeager and a humorless turd at the same damn time, an invaluable lesson that no one could teach you quite like Lou could.

Anyway: A year later I moved to Boston and almost immediately found a cassette of the Great Expectations reissue of Metal Machine Music — the one with Grainy Pensive-Mime Lou on the cover — in a five-dollar rack at Skippy White's. A few months later, Reed came to Tower Records to sign stuff. I waited in line for half an hour and then presented him with the tape, probably grinning nervously but expecting to be greeted the way Lou greeted his truest fans. A sly smile, maybe? Perhaps a single finger-gunshot? Instead Lou looked at the tape like it was a baby-food jar full of bird poop, and with his voice somehow managing to drip scorn and boredom simultaneously, said "Where the hell'd you find this?" It was pretty clear he thought I was both a sucker for buying this souvenir of his methamphetamine period and an asshole for bringing it here.

I wanted to call Rob when I found out Lou Reed died but we haven't talked in about 17 years, for no reason except that I'm bad at keeping up with people. Oh, and Metal Machine Music, it turns out, is way more fun to read about than it is to listen to. It sounds like a truckload of vuvuzelas making love to a barrel of fire alarms. I still fantasize about renting a car with a cassette deck and gluing the tape in there for the next person to find.

 

[7 - No tomorrow]

Laurie Anderson's eulogy in the East Hampton Star

To our neighbors:

What a beautiful fall! Everything shimmering and golden and all that incredible soft light. Water surrounding us.

Lou and I have spent a lot of time here in the past few years, and even though we’re city people this is our spiritual home.

Last week I promised Lou to get him out of the hospital and come home to Springs. And we made it!

Lou was a tai chi master and spent his last days here being happy and dazzled by the beauty and power and softness of nature. He died on Sunday morning looking at the trees and doing the famous 21 form of tai chi with just his musician hands moving through the air.

Lou was a prince and a fighter and I know his songs of the pain and beauty in the world will fill many people with the incredible joy he felt for life. Long live the beauty that comes down and through and onto all of us.

— Laurie Anderson his loving wife and eternal friend

 

[oh shit]

I loved his music and have done for many a year, but as the girlfriend said to me, it's about time more ancient rockstars died off, remind the fucking baby boomers, ashes to ashes etc. Think about it. The ones who didn't die young or get shot seem to be fucking immortal, and their hippie fans are still taking the cues. It's not enough that they destroyed welfarism for their own greed, now they want to live forever too? piss off.

 

[Lili Marlene]

I loved his music and have done for many a year, but as the girlfriend said to me, it's about time more ancient rockstars died off, remind the fucking baby boomers, ashes to ashes etc. Think about it. The ones who didn't die young or get shot seem to be fucking immortal, and their hippie fans are still taking the cues. It's not enough that they destroyed welfarism for their own greed, now they want to live forever too? piss off.

Chuck Berry has outlived them all, although he's looking like he could go any day now.

Chuck Berry gig in Oulu to go ahead despite health worries | Yle Uutiset | yle.fi

 

[7 - No tomorrow]

their hippie fans are still taking the cues. It's not enough that they destroyed welfarism for their own greed,

Could you expand on that?

 

[oh shit]

Could you expand on that?

It's called the 80s

 

[Jerry Twig]

It's not enough that they destroyed welfarism for their own greed, now they want to live forever too? piss off.

What?

 

[7 - No tomorrow]

It's called the 80s

I think I get you

 

[7 - No tomorrow]

What?

I think it is that the children of the 60s and 70s became the voters of the 80s who elected Thatcher and shifted the political centre far to the right.

 

[oh shit]

exactly. 60s ideology of freedom and hedonism is alive and well in the form of why should I pay more tax and if you're poor it's probably your own fault and ps we have a right to enjoy everything all the time

 

[hugh]

Absolutely. Though I'm not sure if it's fair to associate Reed & co. with that. I've always thought of them (the Velvets) as being the antithesis of the hippie ideology they were surrounded by.

Though having said that, you can hardly get more "self-oriented" than Warhol ...