Lou Reed, David Bowie, Mick Ronson
In the car in Detroit we were listening to Transformer. It’s part of music, part of the experience that sometimes an album or a song catches you off-guard. Something you’ve heard before but never really heard. Or maybe it’s just been awhile.
I have the expanded edition CD that has early demos of Lou playing ‘Hangin Round’ and ‘Perfect Day’ on his acoustic. You can hear the foundation of what would later become more embodied songs with flesh, hair and makeup strapped across the chord changes’ rib cage and beating heart.
This is one of Bowie’s first producing efforts (for someone other than himself at least) and he partners with his longtime collaborator, prodigal genius and arranger Mick Ronson to create a musical space at once utterly familiar and totally unique. Something about the era (and Lou himself) allows a musical palette that might seem cloying or kitsch on another artist. It’s a beautiful costume, at times feminine. But always retaining Lou’s own masculinity strong and sly. Through the vocal delivery and romantic lyrics, the seedy underbelly of 1970’s downtown is captured lovingly, and with a hint of nostalgia.
It’s almost jazz.
Hear Herbie Flowers upright bass on ‘Walk on the Wild Side’. Hear the soft brushes on the drums. You’re in the cast-off glow of a lounge under the sidewalk. I feel like this sound, almost cabaret rock, is something that will probably be back in vogue soon (or now) and maybe that’s why it resonates so strongly. It’s a similar set of sounds and arrangements to Hunky Dory, my favorite Bowie record,. It’s also ‘Death of a Ladies Man’-era Cohen but, again, something about the way all the pieces fit together make this, frankly, just better.
These words matter to me for some reason. His words. Something I could do — which is exciting. One definition of inspiration can be the need to go pick up an instrument after hearing a music. Confident of your ability to conjure something that draws from but is not dependent upon.
‘Perfect Day’ deserves special recognition, treasure that it is. The scene is splashed with low voices and specific details. Little clues, flowers, and stones. Hold on to them for a bit. But more than just words. Lou’s vocal performance is exquisite. Painful. Nostalgic. Sweet and aching. These are warm words, you see. But warm words presented sadly, full of longing and reflection. I wrote a song and the bridge of that song says “Don’t you know we’re gonna die?” And this is like that but more nuanced and more graceful. Looking backward. Fondly, but it’s gone.
Finally, we have Mick Ronson turning the coda into something epic. Something that transcends. His piano playing layered against the synthesizers and recorders to create a perfect melodic cycle over the chords. Lou reminding us “You’re going to reap just what you sow” then the melancholic descent of the notes. Hands moving down the piano.
I turn up the stereo, wave off all the chatter in the car.
We need to listen to this.
Tags: classic rock, lou reed, music review
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