lou reed in the 1970s

I recently played a couple of Lou Reed albums from both ends of the 1970s and came to the conclusion that pretty much everything Lou did during that decade was astounding, one way or another, and the pretty much everything he's done since has been decidedly underwhelming. OK, so that's perhaps a huge generalisation, but that's what generalisations are, sweeping and frequently unfair. But in this case, it's true.

After Lou left the Velvet Underground in August 1970 he decided to leave the music business altogether. But a spell working in his dad's office convinced him that a settled-down life wouldn't work, and besides, he was still coming up with songs at a rapid rate.

After some legal shenanigans Lou ended up with a record deal on RCA. Lou Reed - the imaginatively titled first solo album from early 1972 contained a bunch of reworked Loaded out-takes which were remarkable only because they were all vastly inferior to the original Velvets versions. To be fair “Ocean” was pretty good, though the various Velvets' takes of this are miles better. But the new songs were good - “Going Down” is lovely, and “Wild Child” has a real spark. An interestingly patchy album, and one that oddly has not really dated too badly. 

The big one followed. Late in 1971 David Bowie had also been signed by RCA, and he'd made a big deal about saying what an influence Lou Reed had been. The success of the Ziggy Stardust album convinced the RCA suits that Bowie had the magic touch, and, after the less than positive response to Lou Reed, it was decided that David should produce Lou's next record. In fact much of the production of Transformer was carried out by Bowie's guitarist, Mick Ronson, who also contributed the stunning string arrangements as well as playing guitar and piano. Transformer is a strange little record - on the one hand it has stone cold Lou Reed classics like "Walk On The Wild Side", "Perfect Day" and "Satellite Of Love" all of which sound just as fresh today as they did 40 years ago. But on the other hand there are a number of rather pedestrian rockers, such as "Wagon Wheel", and the truly bizarre, tuba-led "Goodnight Ladies". Whilst Transformer is often hailed as a peak of Lou's career, it's hard to see it as little more than a few decent songs, a few ok songs and a whole bunch of luck, being in the right place at the right time, with that year's hot new act behind the desk. It's not really part of the glam rock scene, despite being lumped in due to the Bowie connection, and, crucially, beyond a handful of shows where Lou slapped on the make up, he didn't embrace that scene at all. Lou's next move was something that no-one would have foreseen. He decided to create a concept album, a film for the ears he claimed. And it was to be a double album too!

But when Berlin was released it had become a simple single record, and it received a hugely negative reaction, which had a massive impact on Lou's relationship with the press for ever more.   

In the spring of 1973 Lou had recorded over an hour's worth of material for Berlin, but due to record company pressure he and producer Bob Ezrin were forced to edit the song cycle down to a more acceptable 45 minutes or so. Much of the orchestral work overseen by Ezrin was lost, many of the songs were trimmed, but the core of the album remained, and it wasn't pretty. In describing Caroline's journey from carefree socialite to suicidal junkie, Lou had indeed crafted a film for the ears, but it was a squalid, shocking film. There are moments of pleasure - the giddy whirl of the first "Caroline Says...", the inebriated swagger of "Lady Day", but by the time we reach side two it's despair all the way down until the astonishing redemptive chant of "Sad Song" which to my mind is nothing less than Caroline's departure from this earth to a better place. It's an extraordinarily brave set of songs, and a set which would be unbelievably depressing had the songs not been up to the job. But they are. Every one crackles with invention and cleverness and melodic twists and turns that absolutely grab the listener from the very beginning, and hold your attention to the very end. And just like with a good film,or an absorbing novel, the attentive audient is able to make it through the dark horrors of "The Kids" or the utter blanked out despair of "The Bed" because we have been drawn into the album and are desperate to know how it will end. It's extremely clever, literate, and above all, adult song writing, of the kind that Lou had been promising since the very beginning of the Velvet Underground. It's exactly the sort of continuation of songs like "Waiting For The Man" or "Heroin" that he should have been writing. “Caroline Says II” has that killer line, which Lou delivers so brilliantly - "You can hit me all you want / but I don't love you anymore". It's devastating writing. The level of numbed out pain present in that line is so awful. It's a terribly sad moment on a deeply emotional album.

But it was because it required the audience to think, to get involved, to use their emotions, to invest time and effort in the album, that it received terrible reviews. "The worst album by a major artist for many years" was one headline. Today this is baffling. There is a grown up audience for grown up music but back in 1973 pop music was fluffy ephemeral glam nonsense, and Lou's idea of a good record was nothing like that of anyone else. It went out of print for many years because RCA had no incentive to press a second run. Lou, of course, loved it, just as he always cites Metal Machine Music and The Bells as his favourites, perversely and precisely because they are so unrepresentative of his usual work. 

It's odd that Lou has never tried to restore Berlin. Maybe the missing parts are gone for good. Although it's still a fabulous album, and beautifully produced too, it would be fascinating to hear what it might have been.  

But the controversial reviews didn't bother Lou at the time as by mid 1973 he was starting his lengthy detour into hard drugs, and so little of anything bothered him at all. He played the Rock 'n' Roll Animal tour throughout Europe and the USA during the autumn and revelled in the madness of the tour. The final show was recorded and was released in two halves as Rock 'n' Roll Animal and Lou Reed Live over the next couple of years. Both are cracking albums. Nearly 40 years on this is still what live albums should sound like. It's such powerful music. There might be some very obvious bum notes at times and Lou fluffs words all over the place, but it's a great crowd, and the band give such energetic performances. The twin lead guitar attack of Steve Hunter and Dick Wagner is phenomenal and the melodramatic organ flourishes in songs like “Heroin” work incredibly well. Lou's singing is a bit variable at times but it fits with the music, which also wobbles alarmingly in places. Despite this being one of the last shows on the tour the drummer still has a real problem with the opening of “How Do You Think It Feels” - he can't seem to get that intro right. But so what? It's a storming album, a faithful account of a great concert.

Lou was on a slippery slope into serious drug dependency and wouldn't be this fired up on stage for many years. The next few years saw some amazing gigs and but also some truly terrible concerts, characterised largely by Lou raging around haranguing everyone in sight, or else virtually catatonic, being carried on stage and plonked in front of a mic. I have an interesting tape of a 1974 Australian show, which has an incredibly powerful “White Light / White Heat”, and a very weird “Heroin”, all spooky church organ effects, but Lou sounds seriously ill. Really not on this planet at all. The final number is a very odd acappella “Goodnight Ladies” that frankly would have scared the audience into going home...

In 1974 he recorded Sally Can't Dance which became one of his biggest selling albums. Lou found this incredibly amusing as he reckoned that his input into the record was minimal. Perhaps his next album would be an even bigger seller if he wasn't on it all, he wondered. Sally Can't Dance continues with the expansive Berlin sound, but with rather more obviously commercial appeal. The songs were snappier and catchier, though lyrically Lou was at his acerbic best, thus damning almost all the songs from ever being top forty hits.  

The mid 1970's were a terrible time for Lou on a personal basis - the drugs, his bizarre relationship with 'Rachel' - yet he continued to tour. In 1975 his drug habit was apparently so bad that he actually missed a few shows - the gigs continued with guitarist Doug Yule filling in for Lou. The audiences must have been pretty stoned too - allegedly no-one noticed...

Yet musically, even when it doesn't quite work, this mid 70’s work is always fascinating. There's a level of intensity that's missing from many of his other albums, and a sense that anything could happen. There's a tangible feeling of danger, of being on the edge, of listening to something created by someone you really wouldn't want to know...

Coney Island Baby is a very strange album. Ostensibly commercial, slickly produced, with catchy light songs – “Charley's Girl”, “Ooooh Baby”, “The Gift” (which is a really funny song, though it's a wonder it doesn't sink under the sheer weight of its hysterical self referential irony). But then you get the title track, which lyrically is fabulous and very personal and beautiful. Then there is “Kicks”. Possibly the nastiest song Lou had committed to record at this point. It's dreadfully violent and dispassionate, and the use of the party chatter, which slides in and out, is very disconcerting.

Rock'n'Roll Heart is another odd album. Even more lightweight than CIB, but often the songs have a dirtier, grimier side – “Temporary Thing” is very unsettling. “You Wear It So Well”, which is one of my favourites, has a definite air of desperation about it - the singer doesn't sound quite in control. The recent cd version of this version is one of the few cd remasters to have drastically improved the album. The weedy thin sound of my vinyl has been replaced by a crunching bassier ambience, which hugely improves the whole thing.

I have a great bootleg of a 1976 show with trumpeter Don Cherry guesting. Many songs are extended into jazzy jams and although they don't always quite come off, and the free jazz element of Cherry's playing doesn't always fit with the basic rock'n'roll of songs such as “Sweet Jane”, it's still a fascinating and thrilling set. The version of “Kicks” at this show really, er, kicks...

Street Hassle is possibly the oddest of the lot. The basis of nearly all the tracks is live recordings from a show in Germany in early 1977 where Lou played loads of new songs to a bemused German crowd. Some were played twice to ensure a good recording. Some of these tracks, “Leave Me Alone”, “I Wanna Be Black”, “Dirt” had been knocking around for a few years, but once the basic tracks had been weirdly overdubbed, the songs changed considerably. Others, like the totally out there version of “Real Good Time Together” took just the throbbing guitar part as the basis for the song and for Lou to put his vocals over. The full band was harshly faded in half way through. The vocal overdubs remind me of “Lady Godiva's Operation”, in that various levels and mix settings have been used to a disconcerting effect. However, throughout all the weirdness it sounds as if Lou is having great fun. Admittedly it’s a perverse sort of fun as the songs are mostly unpleasant, one chord dirges, with some tuneless harsh singing plonked on top. “Leave Me Alone” is especially hard to get through. Then there is the title track. A song of beauty and grace and delicacy. Totally out of place amongst the grime. One of Lou's most poetic lyrics, a story from the streets, and some unusually personal lines. Later live performances would significantly lose all the stuff about how 'she took the rings right off his fingers...' which at the time Lou candidly said was all true.

In early 1978 a residency at The Bottom Line in New York gave us the fabulous Take No Prisoners. Such a shame more recordings of these shows haven't been released. I love the Stereo Binaural sound on this album. It gives the live band a presence that really leaps off the turntable. The stories, the jokes, the fast snappy put-downs. And the music too. What a great band, able to twist and turn along with Lou's random deviations and flights of fancy. A wonderfully stirring “Coney Island Baby” is one of my favourite Lou tracks - that long ending is beautiful. An amazing “Street Hassle” is another highlight, as is the opening “Sweet Jane”, which kicks harder than any other version I've heard.

1979 - The Bells. Which I love. Can't totally explain why, but there's a great atmosphere on this album - the Stereo Binaural sound probably helps too. “City Lights” is delightful. “Stupid Man”, another of my all time favourite Lou songs, is such an infectious track. Side two is the real meat of the album. “All Through The Night” repeats the “Kicks” trick, by mixing in dialogue and chatter, though thankfully this time the lyrics aren't as scary. The repetitive sax riff is very strong, it really works. “Families” is another oddly personal and very very sad song - again the riff is unchanging which allows you focus on the impassioned lyrics more. Lou sounds on the verge of tears at a couple of points. “The Bells” - a great, if flawed sound poem. Allegedly the whole thing was improvised, including Lou's vocal. The early part of the song is a mess of sounds, guitar synths and trumpets, all descending chords and doom - but it does seem to come together at the vocal section. It's not perfect, bum notes are everywhere, but if this had been polished it wouldn't have sounded anywhere near as good.

A live set from Berlin 1979 contains an even weirder live version of “The Bells”. And some very extended songs – “I'll Be Your Mirror” runs to 12 minutes.... “Waiting For The Man” to nearly half an hour!

The final album this band produced was 1980's Growing Up In Public - a neat selection of short sharp mainly acidic songs. Lou had just met Sylvia who inspired a few rather soppy songs (“Love Is Here To Stay”.... for goodness sake...), and Lou stopped drinking. A few songs stand out – “How Do You Speak To An Angel” is wonderful, and “Standing On Ceremony” is great too, with Lou in character as a parent snapping - 'Please take your hat off!'

After this Lou cured all his addictions, and fully dried out, revamping his life and his band. The next album would be the superlative The Blue Mask, which basically set the template for all following Lou Reed albums - 2 guitars, bass, drums, all recorded crisply with the emphasis on the precision of the sound at the expense of the mood and feeling. The Blue Mask is truly great, but each subsequent album repeated this formula with diminishing returns. Occasional deviations (drum machines on Mistrial, infrequent uses of sax on Set The Twilight Reeling) didn't really alter the fact that the songs generally were weaker, and the interest level was decreasing.

Today it's apparent, to me at least, that The Blue Mask is the last thing of any great value that Lou worked on. There were little successes, such as the John Cale collaboration Songs For Drella, where the old spark returned, but in general Lou's work over the past 30 years has, for me, been progressively duller and less involving. Shame really.