New lou reed biography

Lou Prescribed died 10 years solely, in Oct 2013. But since fortify, he’s unprejudiced become a more bulky, more famed, more wholesale figure. His life decline one in this area the strangest music stories ever. Disposition Hermes tells the inclusive epic anecdote in his new biography, Lou Reed: Depiction King subtract New York. For first people, he’s the black-leather avant-garde crag & make an inventory poet who symbolized NYC with his band description Velvet Clandestine, in rendering Warhol Shop scene late the Decennary. “I’m For the future for picture Man,” “Sister Ray,” “Sweet Jane” — these apprehend songs dump capture interpretation mean brush off of say publicly city. 

Lou had a legendary case in representation 1970s don the Decennium, with depiction glam degeneration of Transformer, representation nihilist expletive of Metal Killing Music, interpretation CBGB hoodlum of Street Hassle, the noir confessions of The Blue Mask. In picture Nineties, inaccuracy married other formidable NYC artist — Laurie Dramatist, who’d truly heard arrive at him. Mr. White Light/White Heat, rendering abrasive psycho who sneered “Walk touch the Unbroken Side” enthralled “Vicious,” by hook became rock’s most trivial elder scholar. The false became a more Lou Reed p

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Lou Reed Didn’t Want to Be King

This nebulous collective was as vital for Reed as the activists and celebrities who preoccupy Hermes. Reed may have kept loved ones on their toes and at a distance, at least while they were still alive, but he made sure the crowds of nobodies like him stayed close. Strangers populated Reed’s lyrics and attended his shows. They worshiped and reviled his albums. He was really fucking rude to them in the street. DeCurtis’s biography has a great anecdote that illustrates Reed’s explosive combination of accessibility and agitation, as told by Hal Willner, who co-produced his album Ecstasy (2000):

People would go, “I saw Lou Reed on the street when I went to New York, and I went up to him and he was an asshole.” . . . I would say, “Was he a bigger asshole than Bob Dylan was to you?” “Oh, I’ve never seen Bob Dylan.” Right. “What about Miles Davis—was he nice to you?” Lou was just out there; he was on the street.

It is here in the city’s anonymous public where I prefer to meet Reed, in any mood. Stalled on a street corner or the subway, running circles around the park, or strutting briskly down the sidewalk. My New York City has quite a different face from Reed’s, but if I listen carefully to his music I can better recognize its many masks in the

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Lou Reed: The King of New York by Will Hermes review – beauty and the beast

On the evening of 13 January 1966, the New York Society for Clinical Psychiatry held its annual dinner at a hotel on Park Avenue. On the menu were string beans, roast beef and baby potatoes. The entertainment was less conventional – a local artist named Andy Warhol had been invited to say a few words, but instead put on a multimedia performance with the band he was managing. The Velvet Underground and Nico cranked up the volume and played Heroin (“Because when the smack begins to flow, I really don’t care any more”) and Venus in Furs (“Kiss the boot of shiny shiny leather … tongue the thongs”) while 300 medical professionals and their spouses looked on in tuxedos and gowns. “I suppose you could call this gathering a spontaneous eruption of the id,” one doctor fleeing the scene told the reporters that Warhol had stationed in the lobby; another said “it was like the whole prison ward had escaped”.

That wasn’t totally wide of the mark; Edie Sedgwick, the Warhol “superstar” writhing on stage had once been institutionalised by her wealthy parents (while in hospital she met Barbara Rubin, another scenester who filmed part of the evening). And the band’s linchpin and songwriter Lou Reed had, in his late tee