...has been going through my head all day, like it did way back when.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4pAE5G5OBzw
Lou Reed, music icon and poet (March 2, 1942 – October 27, 2013)
I'm with you, James. Lou gave us a center, and challenged himself and us constantly with his music. It hurts to lose him now when everything seems so commercialized and predictable in the arts. A guy like that keeps it honest.We're losing the old guard. They only thing left is to celebrate how long they stood watch.
"Dirty Blvd."
Pedro lives out of the Wilshire Hotel
He looks out a window without glass
And the walls are made of cardboard, newspapers on his feet
And his father beats him 'cause he's too tired to beg
He's got 9 brothers and sisters
They're brought up on their knees
It's hard to run when a coat hanger beats you on the thighs
Pedro dreams of being older and killing the old man
But that's a slim chance
He's going to the boulevard
He's gonna end up on the dirty boulevard
He's going out to the dirty boulevard
He's going down to the dirty boulevard
This room cost $2,000 a month
You can believe it, man, it's true
Somewhere there's a landlord's laughing till he wets his pants
No one dreams of being a doctor or a lawyer or anything
They dream of dealing on the dirty boulevard
Give me your hungry, your tired, your poor I'll piss on 'em
That's what the Statue of Bigotry says
Your poor huddled masses
Let's club 'em to death
And get it over with and just dump 'em on the boulevard
Get 'em out on the dirty boulevard
Goin' out to the dirty boulevard
They're going down on the dirty boulevard
Goin' out
Outside it's a bright night
There's an opera at Lincoln Center
Movie stars arrive by limousine
The klieg lights shoot up over the skyline of Manhattan
But the lights are out on the mean streets
A small kid stands by the Lincoln Tunnel
He's selling plastic roses for a buck
The traffic's backed up to 39th Street
The TV whores are calling the cops out for a suck
And back at the Wilshire, Pedro sits there dreaming
He's found a book on Magic in a garbage can
He looks at the pictures
And stares up at the cracked ceiling
"At the count of 3," he says,
"I hope I can disappear."
And fly, fly away from this dirty boulevard
I want to fly from the dirty boulevard
I want to fly from the dirty boulevard
I want to fly-fly-fly-fly from the dirty boulevard
I want to fly away
I want to fly
Fly, fly away
I want to fly
Fly, fly away
Fly, fly away
Fly, fly away
Fly, fly away
I want to fly
--Lou Reed
(Now THAT'S how you tell a story)
Lou Reed sang truth and never made it pretty.
Check out the Laurie Anderson piece on Lou in the new issue of Rolling Stone.
Jimmy Chen homage (with uke):
Just came across this. Thought it was nice.