lou reed dead
Maybe Lou Reed's comment to Rolling Stone writer David Fricke in 1987, "I hate cheap sentiment," was the reason for Mr. Reed's confused facial expression in response to my comment when we first met.
The Velvet Underground came and went long before anyone had any idea of what New York was going to be again, was going to act like in the undulating zeitgeist; the horny, thorny, idiotic soot and grime and bankrupt moral dogma of the much later hip-hop cries for vengeance.
No one ever spoke so directly for misfits and freaks. His music, in its genius and its flaws, in its poignancy and its awkwardness, arose from a conscious and explicit desire to give a voice to the voiceless, to express the truths of people who were always told that their truth had no value.
While New York City was Reed's muse and home, it's not as though the mayor of New York gave Reed and the Velvet Underground the keys to the city in 1969. Reed was part of a cultural underground that had outposts all over the world.
"I wish I could write like that," I would think whenever I heard him. I wish I could know the world like that. I wish I could make you feel like you were right here, just like he could. He let you into his world and by extension, the world at large.