I finally got around to reading "Lou Reed: A Life" By Anthony DeCurtis, published a few months ago (October 2017). I accidentally got the "Large Print" edition from the library, so it truly is a weighty tome, clocking in at over 700 pages.
It is a joy to read. I started in the middle of the story, with Lou establishing himself as a solo artist, working with David Bowie and Mick Ronson (my current guitar hero), and am now going back to Lou's early days in Brooklyn and Long Island, college at Syracuse, and the development of The Velvet Underground with John Cage, Sterling Morrison, Maureen "Mo" Tucker, Andy Warhol, and Nico.
To tell you the truth, I don't want the book to end.
It is excellent.
We've all heard stories about Lou being difficult, yet many of us admired his work and many other things about him. I wondered how the book would approach the issue of an artist being simultaneously visionary and irascible.
The answer is that the book does it with an honesty and openness that the Trump administration, for one, is sorely lacking.
Among the most charming aspects of the book is the extensive attention it gives to Lou's devotion to poet Delmore Schwartz (1913 - 1966), who taught at Syracuse during the time Lou was a student there and was a profound impact on Lou as a man and as a poet.
Lou dedicated the song "European Son" to Delmore on the first Velvet Underground album:
Later, Lou wrote the song "My House" (1982) for Delmore:
"My House" by Lou Reed (1982)
The image of the poet's in the breeze
Canadian geese are flying above the trees
A mist is hanging gently on the lake
My house is very beautiful at night
Perhaps the most remarkable aspect of the album is the twin aural guitar assault launched by Lou and guitarist extraordinaire Robert Quine.
The title song from the album The Blue Mask...
Lou worked with some great guitarists in his day - Sterling Morrison in The Velvet Underground, Mick Ronson as a solo artist - and Lou was no slouch himself at guitar either.
To tell you the truth, I don't want the book to end.
It is excellent.
We've all heard stories about Lou being difficult, yet many of us admired his work and many other things about him. I wondered how the book would approach the issue of an artist being simultaneously visionary and irascible.
The answer is that the book does it with an honesty and openness that the Trump administration, for one, is sorely lacking.
Among the most charming aspects of the book is the extensive attention it gives to Lou's devotion to poet Delmore Schwartz (1913 - 1966), who taught at Syracuse during the time Lou was a student there and was a profound impact on Lou as a man and as a poet.
Lou dedicated the song "European Son" to Delmore on the first Velvet Underground album:
Later, Lou wrote the song "My House" (1982) for Delmore:
"My House" by Lou Reed (1982)
The image of the poet's in the breeze
Canadian geese are flying above the trees
A mist is hanging gently on the lake
My house is very beautiful at night
My friend and teacher occupies a spare room
He's dead - at peace at last the Wandering Jew
Other friends has put stones on his grave
He was the first great man that I had ever met
He's dead - at peace at last the Wandering Jew
Other friends has put stones on his grave
He was the first great man that I had ever met
Sylvia and I got out our Ouija Board
To dial a spirit - across the room it soared
We were happy and amazed at what we saw
Blazing stood the proud and regal name Delmore!
To dial a spirit - across the room it soared
We were happy and amazed at what we saw
Blazing stood the proud and regal name Delmore!
Delmore, I missed all your funny ways
I missed your jokes and the brilliant things you said
My Dedalus to your Bloom
Was such a perfect wit
And to find you in my house
Makes things perfect
I missed your jokes and the brilliant things you said
My Dedalus to your Bloom
Was such a perfect wit
And to find you in my house
Makes things perfect
I really got a lucky life
My writing, my motorcycle and my wife
And to top it all off a spirit of pure poetry
Is living in this stone and wood house with me
My writing, my motorcycle and my wife
And to top it all off a spirit of pure poetry
Is living in this stone and wood house with me
The image of the poet's in the breeze
Canadian geese are flying above the trees
A mist is hanging gently on the lake
Our house is very beautiful at night
Canadian geese are flying above the trees
A mist is hanging gently on the lake
Our house is very beautiful at night
Our house is very beautiful at night
Our house is very beautiful at night
Our house is very beautiful at night
Our house is very beautiful at night
Our house is very beautiful at night
Delmore Schwartz
The Heavy Bear Who Goes With Me
“the withness of the body”
The heavy bear who goes with me,
A manifold honey to smear his face,
Clumsy and lumbering here and there,
The central ton of every place,
The hungry beating brutish one
In love with candy, anger, and sleep,
Crazy factotum, dishevelling all,
Climbs the building, kicks the football,
Boxes his brother in the hate-ridden city.
Breathing at my side, that heavy animal,
That heavy bear who sleeps with me,
Howls in his sleep for a world of sugar,
A sweetness intimate as the water’s clasp,
Howls in his sleep because the tight-rope
Trembles and shows the darkness beneath.
—The strutting show-off is terrified,
Dressed in his dress-suit, bulging his pants,
Trembles to think that his quivering meat
Must finally wince to nothing at all.
That inescapable animal walks with me,
Has followed me since the black womb held,
Moves where I move, distorting my gesture,
A caricature, a swollen shadow,
A stupid clown of the spirit’s motive,
Perplexes and affronts with his own darkness,
The secret life of belly and bone,
Opaque, too near, my private, yet unknown,
Stretches to embrace the very dear
With whom I would walk without him near,
Touches her grossly, although a word
Would bare my heart and make me clear,
Stumbles, flounders, and strives to be fed
Dragging me with him in his mouthing care,
Amid the hundred million of his kind,
The scrimmage of appetite everywhere.
In the Naked Bed, in Plato’s Cave
In the naked bed, in Plato’s cave,
Reflected headlights slowly slid the wall,
Carpenters hammered under the shaded window,
Wind troubled the window curtains all night long,
A fleet of trucks strained uphill, grinding,
Their freights covered, as usual.
The ceiling lightened again, the slanting diagram
Slid slowly forth.
Hearing the milkman’s chop,
His striving up the stair, the bottle’s chink,
I rose from bed, lit a cigarette,
And walked to the window. The stony street
Displayed the stillness in which buildings stand,
The street-lamp’s vigil and the horse’s patience.
The winter sky’s pure capital
Turned me back to bed with exhausted eyes.
Strangeness grew in the motionless air. The loose
Film grayed. Shaking wagons, hooves’ waterfalls,
Sounded far off, increasing, louder and nearer.
A car coughed, starting. Morning, softly
Melting the air, lifted the half-covered chair
From underseas, kindled the looking-glass,
Distinguished the dresser and the white wall.
The bird called tentatively, whistled, called,
Bubbled and whistled, so! Perplexed, still wet
With sleep, affectionate, hungry and cold. So, so,
O son of man, the ignorant night, the travail
Of early morning, the mystery of beginning
Again and again,
while History is unforgiven.
"My House", Lou Reed's tribute to Delmore, appeared on the album The Blue Mask (1982) which many at the time considered a "come back" for Lou.
Perhaps the most remarkable aspect of the album is the twin aural guitar assault launched by Lou and guitarist extraordinaire Robert Quine.
The title song from the album The Blue Mask...
Lou worked with some great guitarists in his day - Sterling Morrison in The Velvet Underground, Mick Ronson as a solo artist - and Lou was no slouch himself at guitar either.
Yet there seems to be something special about Robert Quine's work with Lou, both in the way it stands on its own and the way it intertwined with Lou's guitar to create something wholly unique.
I was struck by Robert's sad end (he killed himself after his beloved wife, who he said he could not live without, passed away suddenly), and I was shocked by a story told in Rolling Stone about Lou by The Black Keys' Dan Auerbach. Meeting backstage at an event, Dan approached Lou to talk to him about Robert Quine, a cousin of his. Due to the tragic nature of Robert's death, and the great art they made together, Dan probably expected touching accolades from Lou about Robert. Instead, he got silence and Lou simply walked away without a word. I found that puzzling:
Interview with Dan Auerbach - From "Rolling Stone", January 6, 2016:
Who are your heroes – who would you still be nervous to meet?
"Ever since I met Lou Reed, I don't really have heroes anymore. Or, at least, I don't want to meet them, unless I'm working as equals in the studio with someone like Dr. John. I heard a lot of Lou stories from my cousin [Voidoids guitarist] Robert Quine. Then the Black Keys were playing a fundraiser with Lou right after Robert died in 2004. So I walk up to Lou and say, "I'm playing in the Black Keys here. My cousin was Robert Quine. He told me how much he thought of you." Lou stared in my eyes, and just turned around and walked away [laughs]..."
Anthony DeCurtis' "Lou Reed: A Life" reveals that Quine and Reed had a complicated relationship and ultimately a falling out they never recovered from, much like practically every other professional or personal relationship Lou Reed ever had in his life....(except, apparently, Laurie Anderson...)
Another Quine cousin, Tim Quine, wrote this really nice piece about Robert you can see here.... which includes an awesome video of "Waiting For The Man" featuring a cool Quine guitar solo.
But much earlier, Robert Quine had played a crucial role in documenting The Velvet Underground. In 1969, Quine was living in San Francisco and was a hardcore Velvet fan who taped their shows at The Matrix. The Quine Tapes make Quine the Alan Lomax of The Velvet Underground. For how wonderful the Velvets' studio albums are, their live material is a real revelation, and gives us the slightest idea of how shocking they were to audiences at the time. Thanks, Robert, for gifting us this...
Please purchase "Lou Reed: A Life" by Anthony DeCurtis from an independent bookstore, if you can.
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