NEW YORK STORIES

Rip It Up, Issue 141, 1 April 1989, Page 16

NEW YORK STORIES

LOU REED Everybody’s Favourite Uncle

Lou Reed. What kind of name for a rock’n’roll poet is that? Quite what possessed young Brooklyn bohemian Louis‘Butch’Firbank to pick such a banal, bland moniker for his stage name is > unclear, but what we do know is that he has successfully :' transformed himself into one of the most intriguing characters to ever (dis)grace the rock circus. The claim that Lou Reed has changed the sound and face of contemporary music is no hollow hype. Nor is the fact that the new album New Yorkis his most vital, challenging work since his controversial solo records of the early 70s. ' The influence of the Velvet ;. ; Underground seems to wax, not. wane, with time —as witnessed by the reaction to the Cowboy Junkies' languid cover of 'Sweet Jane' while that characteristically malevolent mumble of a voice still spawns imitators by the score. Waiting for the man in the lobby of his luxurious Toronto hotel, we're politely taken aside by his record label rep and warned that Lou will only talk about his new record, any unrelated questions being about as welcome as Salman Rushdie at a Tehran tea party. As Lou's former musical associate (1974-80) and friend Michael Fonfara later confirmed, "you can't pry anything out of Lou. He's kind of a private person, unless he's ready to talk."

To be fair, Lou did talk. This was a (show) business transaction, after all, so he lived up to his end of the bargain forthe allotted 45 minutes. No more, no less. But, let's face it, interviewing Lou Reed solely about the latest in a long line of solo albums is rather like only asking a dying Salvador Dali about his last painting, John Huston about his last movie or Casanova about his last... No reflections on the rich legacy of the Velvet Underground. No spontaneous eulogies to recently departed mentor Andy Warhol or V.U. comrade Nico. No self-serving explanation of his earlier days of

druggie decadence. No apology for / defense of that Honda commercial. No report on his exciting new project with John Cale, Songs For 'Drella. Which leaves us with the new album.

On New York, Reed has peered into the heart of his beloved Big

Apple and found it riddled with maggots. He has kick-started the abrasive anger of old, but now his targets and subjects are out there in the real world, not confined to the murky, subterranean scene he once slithered through. The result is a record that is emerging as the most coherent and provocative of all 18 Lou Reed solo albums. 1989 brings us a seemingly healthy, personally happy Lou Reed in possession of conscience and commitment. At 45, his best years may still lie ahead. New York Well-rested after a gruelling, delayed flight from Paris, Lou Reed is ushered into the hotel suite. After a cursory handshake with the journalist, he begins chatting with the label rep about the hassles and perils of international flight, revealing a welcome (if rare) flash of humour. "The idea of a promotional trip came up just as that Pan Am jet was blown up. I told Sire, 'Hey, I'm big enough in Europe—why bother?'!" A trip to Paris does have its compensations—the gorgeous black leather jacket Lou is wearing provides proof of that. Freshly armed with cigarettes (one lingering vice)

and mineral water, Lou settles into the task at hand.

Are you pleased with the reaction to New York?

'Yes. I do read the reviews, and I'm pleased with the reaction. But

essentially I am pleased with it—especially in production, I thought it was the best album. I've had years of being in the studio, but without being in the studio enough. The producer is in all the time, but the artist just now and then. The technology changes every week—astonishing toys, new gadgets, some strange thing from Sony, all the digital technology. I was having a hard time coming to terms with the technology and what I

wanted to get out of it." Is it easy to get carried away or seduced by the new technology? 'You can if you're not watching out for it, only in the sense that the engineers will automatically use it as part of their standard set-up. You'll sit there and think the thing sounds thinner than it did before, and you'll wonder why." I gather you enjoy a good rapport with (co-producer) Fred Maher. "That's certainly part of it. He worked as a real drummer for me before he became a programmer and then a producer. He's one of those younger guys that has the technology down. I had interviewed a number of people about what

they'd suggest, how they'd help, and Fred and I had some real good discussions. I took him out to where I have this little room with a four-track —a tacky little Fostex and a Shure mike. We're not talking heavy studio, but it's where I make cassettes. I

played him, both in person and on tape, what I thought it should sound like. I do see records as a

collaborative thing." What was the writing process for New York?

"I had three years to think about it, and I took three months to write it. I didn't wantthe pressure of having to re-write in in the studio, I wanted it nailed first. "Mike Rathke and I had ourtwo guitar lock, we had the sounds we wanted, all we needed was the right

technology and the right room. We talked it over with Fred, and he had some precise suggestions. The other thing we did, and which I had the luxury to do forthe first time, was to try studios out. If you can afford it, that's great. Go and try it, if you don't like it, leave."

New York has a very coherent sound—did that just pour out easily? "No, it was done essentially like all the other albums, butthe time was well-spent. I knew some of what hadn't worked before, and I had a pretty good idea of a certain direction to go in. I'm talking technically here. And over the years I've met some technical guys who

can help me get my sound all the time, as opposed to part of the time. "Previously, I'd be at the mercy of the room. It's like a live show when you show up and find it's an incredibly bright-sounding room. You say, 'What's happening to the bass?' and they tell you there's a basement below stage! "We even thought for a while of bringing out a mobile unit to the original room, as it sounded so great. It was a music room only in the sense that there were instruments there. If it had books in it, it would have been a library." You now seem attached to that two guitars, bass, drums line-up. "It was certainly the thing that most suited this album, and it is essentially my favourite set-up. I need that second guitarist, ora bassist like Fernando Saunders. I like that other person." You still think there's life left in that stripped down rock format? "For sure. I haven't noticed anyone saying it is a dead genre, but I have noticed more bands using it." The lyrics on New York are very

specific— will they translate to those living outside that city? "Thething is, it's notthattopical. There aren't things in there you probably can'tfigure out from the context. The names in a sense are immaterial, just substitute your city's version of what is happening. When I read a Toronto paper, I noticed those kinds of shootings [e.g. a black youth shot in the back of the head by police].

"What I write about is true about New York, but N.Y. is not all that

differentfrom other cities. Eleanor Bumpers and Michael Stewart [black shooting victims] have their equivalents, so it's not important you know exactly what happened. Pick up the newspaper, that stuff is there. I don't have to make it up!" Don't things tend to happen in NewYorkfirst?

"Some people say New York doesn't even have anything to do with N.Y. State, let alone the U.S.. But it's just a big city with lots of people. Other big cities have similar problems. "Notthat I'm an expert on other cities, which is why I called it New York. I just stick to what I know. But you may want to run out and get the whole story of Michael Stewart, Eleanor Bumpers and what the cops did at Thompkins Square—they're interesting stories." Has your view of New York evolved since you removed yourself a little from it?

'Tm still living right there, just that I also have a place out of town. Soon as New York gets to me, I leave." Do you see the city differently when you're away from it? "When I get out of N.Y. I go to this little town where people hate New York. I listen to that, and I can

become one of them. Then I go back and am with people who hate living out of the city. I'm a great one for listening. I like to walk around a lot, get into conversations with people." On the album, you come across as both observerand participant. "When you're in New York, some of the things that are happening are so grotesque and so obvious. As soon as you open the door, you'll fall over it. You don't have to go hunting for it. It's like, 'whoops—my God!' "Some people say, Well, isn't it that your perspective has changed.' I mean, I'm not stupid. Everybody's perspective changes as they get older, but that's not it. There are some real bad things going on that are way worse that I ever remember them being. Unbelievably way worse. If anyone wants to check on me, go to New York and find out!" Pollution Noise I read there was one specific incident that sparked off the IP's idea.

'Yeah, there was a little problem outside of New York [a dispute with industrial polluters]. I just thought that in 1989 there are certain things that are common sense, that you don't argue about. Surely we all agree about pollution? But it's not true, far from it." This LP stresses wider issues, yet your earlier work was self-centred. "I don't compare one thing to another. I'm a writer. I write about what I want to write about, every time. I see things, especially technique, as a continuum. "When I was in college, I wrote under Delmore Schwartz. Later, when I worked with Warhol, I thought that by working on technique, I'd getbetteras I got older, just like the people I admired. It's a shame other people get hung up on the personality aspect of it. But I'm not part of pop music by any stretch of the imagination. I'm well outside, and that's been demonstrated for a longtime. Those people whoget hungup over the years, that's their problem. It's boring tome.

Is that how you stay productive, refusing to rest on your laurels? "I have these real ambitions for writing. I require practice at doing it, as opposed to theory. Even an album a year isn't really much work, and this one wasn't out for three years." Yet your output is prodigious compared to those young groups that take three years, eight studios and a half-million dollars per album. "That wouldn't work for someone like me. Because I'm essentially lazy, I have to have deadlines. If someone said, 'Here's a million dollars, go and make the record you want,' that would be a disasterfor me—l'd probably bank most of it. I like to try and work quickly for a simple reason, to make sure it gets done. "The other reason I can't take too long is that my records are based on emotion. If you're there too long, you lose track of what that emotion was, and the record is gone. You can perfect the bass part overthe next two years, butyou may as well forget

"If you're in too long, you stop responding, and you just listen for technical shit. This record didn't end because of a deadline, it ended

because it was over. I had mucked about with it one more time, trying to make it better, and everybody yelled at me—'lt's over, Lou!'—and I knew it was over, too. It sounded exactly like what I hoped it would sound like when I heard it in my head, and that was that."

When you tour, will you play all of New York, in the same order?

"I dropped the idea. I thought it might be considered too predictable: 'Oh, he's going to do his album.' I don't know if it would work being done live in a row. Then there'll

always bethose people who want to hear this and that.

"Maybe we'll divide the show in half. I'm still getting input from other people. Things are so collaborative. You try to find people who share the same aesthetic and are really good at what they do. I don't like tension, though some people thrive on it." The fact that people stay with you vindicates that approach. "Thankyou. Like Fernando Saunders, he's also been a real

friend of mine for years. I wrote the lyrics for a song on his album. And Maureen (Tucker, V.U. drummer). She's got an album coming out, and I played on that. Also Ruben Blades' first English album. "I've been trying out my ideas in the studio overthe years, and a lot of my problems had come from a very serious distrust of engineers. That

came from being in the Velvet Underground. In retrospect, you can imagine what engineers said in those days! It's taken a while to find people who understand my basic set-up; they can't just do as they do with everyone. For instance, I don't like sound baffles, I like the leakage! I like the sound of an amp when it's on before anyone plays through it. I like the dirt, I don't like it slick!" Peers & Chapters With your involvements in benefits —Sun City, Amnestydo you now feel more closely aligned with your peers than before? "We all talk. There are some younger guys out there I can relate to. I still talk to synthesiser people, /know. We had a lot of expensive equipment on the New York session; it was the highest tech, low-tech session I know of. We did use a synth on one track, forthe sound of the wave on 'Great American Whale'. Thaf s a very expensive wave!" I meant the question in a wider sense. Do you feel part of a community of concerned artists that is standing up and being counted? "Well, there are certain things that bother everybody. We've gotten together at various times to not sit on the sidelines, put it that way. The situations are so bad, and we agree on that. Like Paul Simon's benefit for the homeless at Madison Square Garden to buy a mobile medical van. That was brilliant. We knew exactly where every penny of that money was going. Three weeks later, you could go out and look at the medical van." van. Not like the fuss over whether Band Aid/Live Aid help reached Ethiopia? "I'm more concerned about what is going on in my own city. I don't have to look to other countries to find starving people. That's my point of viewit's really terrible there, but look, two feet away from me...!" Do you enjoy arousing controversy with your lyrics? . . f "Ifs not the love of controversy—you've got five minutes left— ifs that there's this enormous landscape you can write about if you're writing seriously. In pop music, you can write about that, in party music, that. But if you look at it from the point of view of a novelist, there's an endless

landscape of things you can put into a record. I wanted to use that hourto come up with something... I don't want to come off as self-righteous. Maybe in 18 years I'll do a party record." What is people's biggest misconception of Lou Reed? "Oh, I don't know. It's not very complicated." You're an open book? "That's for sure." Well, I hope the book has a few more chapters. "Itfeels like I'm just starting. It's strange, I've already got a bunch of these Lifetime Achievement Awards, which I think you're supposed to get when you're 80. It's around this time that John Kennedy was told he was too young to be President! As a writer, this is supposed to be the time you hit your stride. I feel I've only just scraped the tip of the iceberg—now there's a cliche for you. I'm a writer, I should be able to do better than that! —in terms of what you could do with a rock 'n' roll record. You learn, so you should get better at it." So you're not about to retire gracefully to write plays, novels? "Oh, that's possible. But I still like writing records, especially now that I have a modus operandi that works. Now I've got it to where the technical stuff always works." Does that afford you more scope forthe actual writing now? "It means I have more fun with it, because I don't have to fuss with it. I think we're finished." Yes.

KERRY DOOLE

“New York is not all that different from other cities... Not that I’m an expert on other cities, which is why I called the album New York.''

“I’m not part pop music by any stretch of the imagination. I’m well outside, and that’s been demonstrated for a long time.”

“From the point view of a novelist, there’s an endless landscape of things you can put into a record. Maybe in 18 years I’ll do a party record ...”