Lou’s Wild Side David Yaffe

Lou Reed: A Life cannot make love to Jews anymore.” that Reed belonged there—indeed, his four stars in and by Anthony DeCurtis. ( upheld this policy with Leon- induction had been long overdue. But Reed told him, unsurprisingly, that he Little, Brown, 519 pp., $32.00 ard Cohen, who never forgave Lou whether or not he deserves our praise should have given it five—and accounts for his tryst.) The relationship did not as a friend, lover, and collaborator is from intimates who, without the threat “Just a perfect day/You made me forget end well. another matter, and a central concern of a living , tell stories that myself/I thought I was someone else/ And so it goes: David Bowie produces of DeCurtis’s book. “I do Lou Reed are less than sweet. A young artist and Someone good.” These lines—sung Reed’s only mainstream hit, “Walk on better than anybody,” Reed once said, fan named Duncan Hannah received indifferently over swelling, glam rock the Wild Side,” which many Classic about people who imitated his musical this pickup line from his hero: “Well, strings—are from “Perfect Day,” an Rock radio listeners don’t realize is style. But how well did he do Lou Reed, look, why don’t you come back to my achingly gorgeous and brutally hon- about drag queens, and is then iced out the man? hotel with me? . . . And you can shit in est song by Lou Reed, who died of by him for decades. Reed makes one my mouth.” When that didn’t work, liver disease four years ago at the age of rock’s great self-­lacerating master- Reed offered, “I’ll put a plate over my of seventy-­one. Some people thought pieces, Berlin (before even going to the DeCurtis is a veteran music critic for face, then you can shit on the plate. the song was about addiction—how a place), and then resents producer Bob Rolling Stone as well as a prolific inter- How’d you like that?” junkie escaping from reality also feeds Ezrin for having his name on it. On and viewer. Over the years he has published, Lou Reed liked to say that his child- on the escape of romance. But the song on and on. After a while, every time a in the magazine’s full transcript for- hood was so terrible that he blocked out could also be about how pleasurable, new person comes into his life, you’re mat, conversations with Paul McCart- everything up to around age thirty-­one. yet impossible, it is to escape His memory of PS 192 was from your true self, and about free of nostalgia. “I couldn’t how easy it is to deceive your- have been unhappier than in self when you’ve disappointed the eight years I spent growing your own expectations. up in Brooklyn,” he recalled. The songs of Lou Reed There was no radio and no are a manual of sorts for escape. “The playground was how to keep living after you concrete and they had lunch have let yourself and every- monitors.... People were piss- one else down, or after the ing in the streets. A kid had world has done that for you. to go to the john, you raised

Reed doesn’t judge anyone Steve Schapiro/Corbis/Getty Images your hand, got out of line, and for shooting heroin or defy- pissed through the wire. It was ing societal norms, or for like being in a concentration making sweet, gentle love to camp, I suppose.” someone right before they The only thing worse was OD. His songs are not senti- adolescence in Freeport, mental about death, and they Long Island, and the only never, ever try to make you thing worse than that was like the person who is submitting to electroshock them. He was more lacking in treatments for the crime of guile than most in rock and exploring his sexual fluidity roll and he was notoriously as a teenager. He never for- cantankerous. When he had a gave his parents, and he made liver transplant a few months them pay in song after song, before his death, The Onion including “Kill Your Sons”: ran a satirical piece: Lou Reed and Nico at Scepter Studios during the recording of ’s All your two-­bit psychia- “It’s really hard to get along first album, New York City, 1966 trists are giving you electro with Lou—one minute shock he’s your best friend and the next not waiting for the other shoe to drop, ney, George Harrison, Keith Richards, They say, they let you live at he’s outright abusive,” said the you’re waiting for Chekhov’s gun— Bruce Springsteen, Leonard Cohen, home, with mom and dad vital organ, describing its ongo- except that you never know when it is Bono, and countless other rock stars, Instead of mental hospital ing collaboration with the former going to go off, or what form the sacri- and some of these interviews were col- But every time you tried to read Velvet Underground front­man as fice will take. lected in his anthology In Other Words a book “strained at best.” “He just has this Bettye Kronstad’s account of her (2005). DeCurtis had a natural rapport You couldn’t get to page 17 way of making you feel completely marriage to Reed is not for the squea- with Reed, too, and even quotes Reed ’Cause you forgot, where you inadequate. I can tell he doesn’t re- mish. “Whatever joy Lou brought me, as saying, with uncharacteristic gra- were spect me at all. In fact, I’m pretty there was an equal amount of pain,” ciousness, “People always say to me, So you couldn’t even read sure he’s already thinking about Kronstad recalled. “Lou Reed was the ‘Why don’t you get along with critics?’ Don’t you know, they’re gonna replacing me.” devil incarnate to many people.” Then I tell them, ‘I get along fine with An- kill your sons came the transgender Rachel, who lived thony DeCurtis.’” The joke worked because it was so with him for three years, in a relation- That little moment of sweetness He made his listeners relive the expe- true: anyone who got close to Lou—­ ship described by a friend as a “mar- would probably not have lasted much rience in (1975), bandmates, lovers, archivists—invari- riage made in the emergency room.” longer than a chilled-­out Q&A at the an entire album devoted to the aural ably had such an experience after a After their breakup, Reed never spoke 92nd Street Y, or the nearly twenty simulation of electroshock with gui- while. of her again. While his marriage to minutes of the Velvet Underground’s tar feedback and noise—no hooks, no It is a recurring theme in Anthony Sylvia Morales was falling apart, he ex- loud and nasty masterpiece “Sister melodies, no lyrics, no free jazz–level DeCurtis’s new book, Lou Reed: A travagantly hit on Suzanne Vega in the Ray.” Reed was slightly dyslexic and chops. The liner notes ended with this Life. Lou goes to Syracuse, falls under presence of both Morales and Vega’s had a short attention span when it came kicker: “My week beats your year.” the spell of a completely ruined Del- boyfriend. We are ready to have an in- to many things, including most of the At Syracuse, Reed hosted a free jazz more Schwartz, writes “Heroin,” gets tervention with the saintly and brilliant people he ever cared about. radio show and edited a literary jour- busted for pot, makes enemies. He , Reed’s final better DeCurtis admits that the biography nal called Lonely Woman, named for moves to New York City, falls under half, before we even meet her. is “not something he would ever have the Ornette Coleman song. He played the spell of Andy Warhol, ditches Throughout this whole business, wanted, and while he was alive I would in R&B cover bands at frat parties and him, collaborates with the classi- some of it inspiring, much of it sordid, not have written it.” Now, four years studied with Delmore Schwartz, the cally trained —who adds Lou Reed is consistent with nothing but after Reed’s death, he has given us a first of a few crucial father figures, who viola and avant-­garde credibility to his honesty and the purity of his work: thorough and vivid portrait of an artist was nearing the end of his tortured life Lou Reed’s limited musicianship— he never pretends to be someone else, who, he shows us, was even darker than and believed that Nelson Rockefeller forms the Velvet Underground, the much less “someone good.” During her we knew. Testimony from expert wit- was tapping his phone. (Other substi- most influential small-­time band in speech for Reed’s posthumous induc- nesses—musicians, exes, friends—is tute patriarchs for Reed included War- the history of rock and roll, balks at tion to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame balanced with thoughtful descriptions hol and the songwriter Doc Pomus.) sharing credit, and ditches Cale. He as a solo artist, Patti Smith, through of that demonstrate a shrewd Schwartz, Reed would recall, was meets the captivating German model tears, said, “You were good, Lou. You understanding of the music business. the first great person he knew. While and barely tonal chanteuse Nico, who are good,” quoting the line from “Per- DeCurtis has archival interviews, an- Schwartz hated rock and roll, Reed sleeps with him despite insisting, “I fect Day.” And there is no question ecdotes—he gave Reed’s New York would take what he loved of the poet’s

November 23, 2017 33 work—along with the work of Ray- less threatening replacement, to sing tells her lover, “as she gets off the floor/ he treated the love of his life. Here, in mond Chandler, William Burroughs, some of the classics (“New Age,” “Oh! You can beat me all you want to/But “Mad,” is an example: Allen Ginsberg, Hubert Selby Jr., and Sweet Nuthin’,” “Who Loves the Sun”) I don’t love you anymore.” (That one others—and combine it with three in his quavering, sweet, irony-­free could have been transcribed at home.) Mad, you just make me mad chords and his view of the truth. Bob voice. Loaded ultimately received a He is the voice of his beloved Delmore I hate your silent breathing in the Dylan’s version of combining literature rave review in Rolling Stone, but while Schwartz in “My House,” and, reunited night and rock and roll was already changing it was being finished in the studio, Reed with John Cale, he told Andy War- Sad, you make me sad the world. Reed, who admired Dylan left the band, and they ended up butch- hol’s life story in the song cycle Songs When I juxtapose your features, I and hated the Beatles, threw in an- ering the mix—including cutting the for Drella (1990). Reed did not need get sad drogyny, more explicit hard drug ref- bridge to “”—perhaps as re- to be a nice guy. Without pretense, he I know I shouldn’t had someone erences, and a Brooklyn accent. Reed venge. The rest of the band attempted, reached from deep within himself and else in our bed had literary ambitions, but wanted to but ultimately failed, to steal credit for gave us these astonishing creations. He But I was so tired, I was so tired realize them with an amplifier. the songs that Reed wrote on his own. wrote , he said, because Who would think you’d find a If he had stayed for one more album, he was losing two friends to cancer and bobby pin? the Velvet Underground could have no one had made an album about that. It just makes me mad, makes me Reed then founded and dominated broken through to the mainstream, Even though DeCurtis and other mad the band that would cement his leg- but the fact that they didn’t is better rock critics interviewed Reed through- It just makes me, makes me acy—the Velvet Underground. One for the legend. The band anticipated out his career, the book is not heavy on Mad of the few people cool enough to be various cultural moments, including Reed’s own accounts of his personal familiar with their work while they punk, new wave, college rock, alterna- life, and if it feels a bit skeletal in this And he’s just getting started. Why, existed was the young Václav Havel. tive rock, and grunge. When their al- regard, there is a reason. Laurie An- most people might wonder, was he the (They had an awkward interview, two bums were reissued in the 1980s, one to be mad? But Anderson decades later, when Havel had to beg they were treated as a kind of holy played violin on the album, and Reed to perform a gig for free in the grail, something that their con- she got something about this man Czech Republic.) temporaries weren’t ready for yet, no one else could. Here, after all It is an undeniable irony that the inspiring hope of a musical future that, is her account: least commercial of legendary rock and for many underground bands to roll bands had its first sponsor, pseudo-­ come. And it wasn’t just the feed- Lou taught me a lot about love manager, and pseudo-­producer in Andy back rush of “White Light/White and I found out what it is to love Warhol, the original King of Pop. War- Heat” that sealed their legacy, but and to be completely loved in hol understood fame better than any- the dark and brooding ballads return. This will be a part of me

body, yet his aura, his imprimatur, and “Pale Blue Eyes,” “Jesus,” “I’m Harari/Contrasto/ReduxGuido for the rest of my life. It’s also his vision—not to mention his electric Set Free,” and so on, where you something that changes you for- banana print on the cover of their first could hear Reed actually croon- ever to have the love of your life album, The Velvet Underground and ing with great tenderness. die in your arms and when Lou Nico (1967), with his name displayed died in mine I watched as he more prominently than theirs—could did tai chi forms with his hands. not get this band beyond venues as un- One of the original Velvet Un- And I watched the look of joy derground as their name. Among their derground fans was David Bowie, and surprise that came over his gigs was a stint at the Dom on St. Marks who recorded a cover of “I’m Wait- face as he died and I became Place that included dancers and whip ing for the Man,” and, fresh from less afraid. One more thing he artists. Warhol would screen his own The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Star- taught me. This is beyond being nonnarrative films over the band while dust and the Spiders From Mars someone good and someone they played. A friend of Reed’s said the (1972), approached RCA with a evil. This is about what Reed scene was “like a Fellini movie—but proposal to produce Reed’s second called “the power of the heart.” squared.” After they dropped Warhol, solo album. The resulting album the band played only third-­rate gigs. was Transformer, released in 1972, Laurie Anderson and Lou Reed, 2002 It was about that very subject (1969: The Velvet Underground Live less than a year after Reed’s epony- that Reed refused disclosure. In was recorded in a Dallas club, where just mous debut (which went nowhere). The derson, who wrote eloquently about 2006, when DeCurtis was moderat- a few weirdos showed up.) timing was perfect. A few years earlier, her late husband for Rolling Stone, ing a chummy public chat with Reed, The people who did take notice— “Walk on the Wild Side” would not have and spoke movingly at the posthumous an audience member asked an innocu- and the sales figures for The Velvet Un- been a hit, and a few years later, it would Rock and Roll Hall of Fame induction, ous question about one of the sweetest derground and Nico were, according to not have seemed quite so wild. Reed’s would not be interviewed for this book. songs in his catalog, “Set the Twilight DeCurtis, slightly less anemic than leg- flirtations with transgender identity and In her breathtaking speech about Lou, Reeling,” an unabashed ode to Ander- end would have it—were hearing songs androgyny were just edgy enough for she gives us a portrait of a man who was son. It was not an invasive question, but about worlds of darkness and confu- the young rebels and just vague enough wonderful and fascinating: Reed responded as if it were: sion that previously had no soundtrack. to be legal. Transformer lived up to its These were songs about searching for title, both in its play on gender and in its Lou was a wirehead. He loved gear, I have to tell you seriously I don’t your mainline, about hating your body effect on Reed’s career. he loved good sound. He was a like analyzing what I write, and I and all it requires in this world, about The melodicism of Transformer, in photographer and an inventor. He don’t like talking about growing tasting the whip of love not given lightly, contrast to its bleak subject matter, was a warrior, a tai chi and eagle up. I don’t like talking about per- about being a callow boy run ragged by would continue in Berlin (1973). After claw practitioner. He was a great sonal things—ever, of any type, a femme fatale (sung by Nico, herself that, Reed would occasionally be mu- dancer, he could take watches because I put it all in the songs, a legendary femme fatale). They fea- sical in the lower reaches of his range apart and put them back together, and then I feel uncomfortable talk- tured lots of desperation, a little fun, when the song called for it. Sometimes he was kind, he was hilarious, he ing about it. and enough noise to make the engineer the effect was hypnotic, as in much of was never ever cynical. of White Light/White Heat (1968) leave his devastating album about cancer and Lou was my best friend and he It is the job of the biographer to do pre- the studio in protest. bereavement, Magic and Loss (1992). was also the person I admire most cisely the thing Reed said he never ever It was when the band was about But often, he couldn’t be bothered. in the world. In the twenty-one wanted to do—to answer the questions to stop playing that word got around He would shout, or bark, or talk or years we were together there were a Reed never wanted to answer. What about their shows at Max’s Kansas City grunt. He was a lyrics person first. He few times when I was mad and there was he thinking? What did he mean by on Park Avenue South, where they had loved the sound of Dion, but knew he were a few times when I was frus- that? Why did he live his life that way? an extended residence throughout the couldn’t aspire to that. Still he could trated but I was never, ever bored. He wrote songs to avoid answering summer of 1970. While they did not fill be something. When he wanted to, he these questions. the house every night, they were gener- sounded so sweet that it was hard to be- Where was the Lou who was “never Lou Reed gave us Jackie in his ating buzz. “Reed was comfortable at lieve it was him. ever cynical”? He was certainly in An- corset, Jane in her vest, Candy hat- Max’s, mingling easily with the crowd And yet as self-­absorbed as Reed derson’s memories, but where else? ing her body and its worldly require- of musicians, writers, publicists, record often seemed to be, he couldn’t have Perhaps Anderson will write a memoir, ments, and Severin tasting the whip company execs, and artists, all of them created everything he did without being and it could be as lyrical and elegiac as of shiny, shiny leather. Reed did some fans of the band,” writes DeCurtis. a superb listener. So many of his sub- Patti Smith’s Just Kids. things that were inexcusable, maybe They were finally finding an audience jects, after all, were real people. There What we do have are the accounts unforgivable, though that’s not up to while they were recording their final was , née James Slat- from Reed’s albums, as intimate in us to decide. He filled our emptiness album, Loaded (1970), whose songs terly, of the Warhol Factory, a transgen- their affections as they are in their with these characters, and by doing “Rock and Roll” and “Sweet Jane” ac- der actress who yearned to be Marilyn hostilities—from the playful adora- Lou Reed better than anybody. And tually received some radio play. Monroe. She was one of the figures tion of Set the Twilight Reeling (1996), if we listen closely, we can walk down But Reed started losing interest in who told everyone in 1972 to “take a to the ruthless documentation of his the street in leather and sunglasses, the sessions, using up his voice on the walk on the wild side.” And then there own cruelty on Ecstasy (2000). These convincing ourselves that no one can shows and allowing Doug Yule, Cale’s was Caroline, in “Caroline Says,” who two albums give you a sense of how touch us.

36 The New York Review