Saturday, November 02, 2013

Mistah Lou, he dead.

I don't really know what to say about the death of Lou Reed, but it might seem a bit weird if I don't say anything at all, so here goes.

As you know, Lou and I didn't always see eye to eye. I don't know what it was about him that rubbed me up the wrong way, but something did, and I am certain that that is exactly how he would have wanted it. That was his particular, uh, charm.

That said, there is a hole in the world as I sit here typing this. The last time I was conscious of feeling like that was when Burroughs died. Both of them were figures that towered, much larger than life, across the (or "a") cultural landscape. Their shadows, already long, continue to lengthen.

In short: if Lou Reed had never been born, I would be living in a world much different from this one, and I can't imagine it would be a world that I would prefer to live in.

No Lou Reed = no Velvet Underground. No Velvet Underground = no Television. No Ramones. No British punk. No Feelies. No Forced Exposure. (Probably no Creem.) No Chills. No Bats. No Clean. No Belle and Sebastian. No Beat Happening. No Black Flag. No Birthday Party. No Spacemen 3. No Jonathan Richman. Not exactly no David Bowie, but a different David Bowie, one who would not have made the Berlin trilogy. No Neu!. (Is it too much of a stretch to say no Kraftwerk?) And if you take all of them out of the picture, it is curious to wonder what today's music might sound like. No Moon Duo. No Real Estate. No Woods. No ...