Tag Archives: Lou Reed

Yay for Difficult Women!!

Good morning, gang. What a lovely Saturday it is here in Crazeysburg.

I’m finishing the laundry right now and beyond that, I have nothing on my plate today but working on Thug Luckless: Welcome to P-Town, so what could be nicer?

And this evening, I’m streaming the new documentary film Creem: America’s Only Rock ‘N Roll Magazine (!!!).

Creem was my absolute most favorite magazine of all time, and when I was a teenager, I looked forward to every single issue with every fiber of my being, because to me, it was my only connection to the outside world — to what I considered the “real” world. (And I believe, even all these decades later, that I was right.)  Stream the movie here. Here’s the trailer:

On a similar note… Yesterday’s issue of Please Kill Me had a great interview with Angela Bowie Barnett (aka Angie Bowie) by Lucretia Tye Jasmine. (Hence the title of today’s post.) If you are not old enough to remember David Bowie’s career, a point came when he was extremely famous and Angie left him, and then the PR machines and Bowie’s management, etc., did their best to silence her, discredit her, de-materialize her, and just plain disappear her.

I honestly believe that David Bowie would never have figured out how to become “David Bowie” if it weren’t for Angie.  In the beginning, she was his manager. They created everything about his onstage persona together. Working really, really hard to come up with a version of “David Bowie” that could actually sell records. (It took years to accomplish that, btw.)

And now that Bowie is completely and thoroughly, 100% dead, people are more interested in what she has to say about the past.

My favorite exchange from the interview:

Responding to my question, “Was David the love of your life?” Angie says, “Excuse me?”

I repeat the question, falteringly. “Good God, no!” We laugh. “I had a headache with David, I really did. And it wasn’t anything to do with him. It was to do with the people stealing the business from me…I was furious.”

But managing someone’s career is tedious. “They’re totally and utterly egocentric. Not at all interested in anyone else on the planet. Dealing with them becomes tedious after ten years.”

Their breakup didn’t feel like a betrayal.

“I was dying to get out.” David’s drug addiction made him the best liar. “I just couldn’t stand it. It was nauseating. It made me sick. So I just wanted to get it over with and be gone.”

“At a certain stage, you just stop. You’ve realized…it’s enough now. And you want to move on.”  — Lucretia Tye Jasmine, PleaseKillMe.com

And here is the accompanying photo!! Angie, Iggy , Lou Reed with Creem magazine!! Photo by the great Lee Black Childers.

I was a huge fan of Bowie’s from 1973 onward. I really was. But he was always a shifting “persona.”  A carefully crafted character. He was  never just himself in public, in the world. Ever. I had no feel for who he really was as a human being, and when he died, I didn’t miss him at all. Because I never felt “who he really was”. He was sort of just a big PR machine that made music I usually really liked.

Well, the music lives on and I still like it, but I have no real idea who the man was and, actually, at this point, I don’t really care.

Unlike people like Lou Reed and Iggy Pop, Keith Richards, Ronnie Wood, Tom Petty, even Elvis — those guys wore their whole hearts & lives right out in the open, all over themselves; whether or not it got really messy. They weren’t just trying to sell records and concert tickets. They were (are) human beings.

Okay. So!

Yesterday, FIRE (the Foundation for Individual Rights in Education) sent out a press release that just made me completely insane (you can read it here), about a student at Stockton University in New Jersey who is facing a fine and suspension because he had a photo of President Trump as his background on a zoom conference and other students  felt “offended, disrespected, and taunted.”

It is absolutely unbelievable how intolerant and fearful so many young liberal Americans are now when people have points of view that differ from theirs. The spinelessness is just unreal.

“In my day” — we were all just thrown to the wolves and you had to figure out how to survive. No matter your race, religious beliefs, sexual preferences, etc. We were all just sent to school and we had to figure out to survive it, you know?

Trump is the fucking President, whether you like that or not. He got elected through the electoral college. It was legal. He got elected. He’s the President. Fucking deal with it. A reminder to just go out and fucking vote during an election year. Jesus.

And though it would be legal, it’s not “threatening” like using Hitler, or Goering and Goebbels and Himmler, with tons of swastikas as your zoom background. (Although I am wont to put American Leftist students onto a dangerous path that leads to men like them.)

This absolutely terrified way of non-thinking is truly prevalent, gang. It’s in universities all over the country and it’s been going on for a lot of years already — but it is getting worse. And it’s not just students, it extends to faculty members, too. (Even tenured professors are getting death threats, and online hate campaigns, and threatened with disciplinary actions for the opinions they hold.) (You might recall the director of my play, Tell My Bones, was told to take down one of Helen LaFrance’s paintings as his zoom background because his (white) colleagues accused him of behaving like a white plantation master with a bunch of slaves. And it made them “uncomfortable.” Fucking ART makes them uncomfortable — and he’s so fucking liberal; it’s ludicrous. ) (I can’t even really tell you how furious that made me. There aren’t even enough words, really.)

It really is just out of control. I got so fed up yesterday, that I wrote a letter to the Dean of Stockton University.

And I guess, as long as we have a Constitution in place here,  I’ll just keep writing letters now. Sometimes it actually helps, gang, when people think the world is watching them. (I used to write tons of letters for Amnesty International, for people in various countries who were wrongfully imprisoned — and the letters worked.  The people were freed. From fucking prisons in awful places.)

The Constitution means everything to me.  It kept me out of prison when John Ashcroft and the President George W. Bush crew were trying to round up Internet-based pornographers all over America and get them into federal prisons. It was fucking scary.

But that same Constitution covers everybody’s rights to free expression in America — even for Republicans and various conservatives, who perhaps would have preferred that I had gone to prison. It doesn’t matter what side of the fence you’re on. You have your right to express what you believe.

All righty!! I’m going to get on with this wonderful day and go work some more on Thug Luckless: Welcome to P-Town. (My Constitutional right to free expression in action, all day long!!!)

Last night, I was listening to e e cummings read some of his poetry on YouTube. So I’ll leave you with a little of that today. It’s old, of course, and not the clearest sound quality, but it’s still pretty cool to listen to his actual voice. So, hope you enjoy. Thanks for visiting, gang. I love you guys. See ya!

Talk About Living in Biblical Times!!

Man. Now China is being urged to prepare for an invasion of a plague of locusts.  I don’t even want to think about what’s coming next.


So, yesterday was interesting. Well, every day is interesting. Oh, first of all — we are sorry to say goodbye to our Booty Core Graduation Day photo!! Hopefully, you were able to peruse it to your heart’s content because it is now gone.

I saw my young deaf friend over the weekend and he asked if I had a facebook page and could he friend me. Without thinking, I said yes. And I even helped him do that — on his phone. Right there and then, on the spot.  We became friends on facebook. And then, with alarming speed,  he proceeded to look at every single one of my photos, 100% of which I could no longer even recall because I am almost never on facebook — but I assumed that if the photos were on chaste & friendly facebook, it was okay to look at them.

Still. The one photo he was drawn to like a moth to the proverbial flame, was the one of “my pretty necklace.” In fact, he said, “Oh, I really like your pretty necklace!”

I instantly remembered it. And it is a pretty necklace. I love that necklace. But the photo (10 years old already) was cropped to highlight the lovely necklace and remove the lovelies directly beneath it because I was completely topless in the original photo.

Which made me just sort of gasp, you know?

I had completely forgotten that my facebook page is a hop, skip & a jump to my website. Even though he can’t read — he is mentally handicapped — he very quickly got very fond of looking at my pictures and poking around on my facebook page. Judging by how he responded to the necklace photo, it didn’t seem like he would be likely to survive the Booty Core Graduation Day photo, should he discover it. And even though I was wearing a sports bra and black boy shorts in the Booty Core Graduation Day photo, the joy of that photo was that you couldn’t tell that!! At all! Not even a little bit!! I looked totally freakin’ naked!!

So I thought it best to just nip that in the bud. And I deleted the photo.

grumble grumble grumble. I loved that photo. But here’s the necklace, as a sort of consolation prize, in case you’re interested.

My necklace!!








All righty.  The main interesting thing that happened yesterday, is that I saw this guy that I almost never get to see and I really, really like him.  I like to talk to him because he’s on his own intense planet. He’s about 30, smokes, he’s tatted-up, and he lives with a girl and they have a couple of really young kids. Toddlers. A boy and a girl.

But he owns a Hellcat, which is my dream car. I like him a lot, but I love that fucking car. He has told me for over a year now that I can drive it whenever I want to — try it out on the freeway here in Muskingum County, where the Sheriff never is, and I could go 200 mph.

I really, really want to do this. But so far, I haven’t taken him up on it. And part of it, I think, is because he’s the horniest guy on planet Earth (or that intense other planet he’s on), and also because, in my novel Blessed By Light, the main guy has sex with his naked girlfriend in the backseat of a Hellcat while his best friend is driving the car at 200 mph on a deserted freeway in the middle of the night.

I feel that were I actually to drive this guy’s Hellcat, with him in the car too being incredibly horny and 30 and me being just shy of 60,  is setting us up for some sort of intense (although probably quite memorable) disaster. So, maybe someday I’ll just get my own Hellcat.

Anyway, I saw him briefly, yesterday.  And really, out of nowhere, he said, “You’re really beautiful, you know that? Why you’re not married is just beyond me. If I were older, I’d scoop you right up.”

(Of course, I’m not sure where the girlfriend and the two toddlers would fit into that scenario, but anyway.)

I was completely taken aback, and I took it as the compliment it was meant to be, but that kind of statement is just so loaded, isn’t it? I mean, it implies that if I’m beautiful, I should be legally owned by somebody. And I just don’t really know how to respond to that. I know he didn’t mean it that way, but that’s how I respond inside.

But then he added, “Of course, maybe I don’t have to be older. I never did ask you how you actually feel about younger guys…”

Wow. Just fully loaded, right?? And on a Sunday. The Lord’s Day. I didn’t actually reply to that because I had no words. I just kind of smiled and walked away then. But think of it — I could be the proud owner of a Hellcat, by way of marriage & joint property, and have a couple of cute toddlers calling me “stepmom” on the weekends. And on every other holiday! Plus, he’s got money — he inherited it. So many possibilities for dreams to come true there and yet something’s just not quite right with that picture, but I can’t put my finger on it…

Honestly. I can’t. But something’s not right.

Okay. Today would have been Lou Reed’s 123rd birthday!!  Or his 88th, or something like that.  So I want to leave you with one of his songs. Probably my most favorite is “Walk on the Wild Side” since it was the first song I ever heard of his, and I was only 12 when I heard it (on my radio, alone in my room) and I was just blown away. (12 was just an amazing year for me; I guess that’s why I have sort of remained 12 all this time…)

But I’ve posted “Walk on the Wild Side” here on the blog a couple of times already.  So I’m going to leave you with a couple of songs from an album of his that I really loved. The album was Growing Up in Public, from 1980. Just some really, really great songs on that one! Below are both the titular song, “Growing Up in Public,” and then “How Do You Speak to An Angel?” (Both of them, songs that spoke to my extreme shyness and heart-wrenching inability to let people know just how much I loved them.) (Things that I hope I’ve grown out of, at least a little bit.)

All righty. Thanks for visiting, gang. I’m gonna go hang with Thug Luckless now, see if I can make my way deeper into Chapter One. Have a cool Monday, wherever it takes you, okay? As always, I love you guys. See ya.

“Growing Up In Public”

Some people are into the power of power
The absolute corrupting power, that makes great men insane
While some people find their refreshment in action
The manipulation, encroachment and destruction of their inferiors

Growing up in public, growing up in public
Growing up in public, growing up in public with your pants down

Some people are into sadistic pleasures
They whet their desires and drool in your ears
They’re quasi-effeminate characters in love with oral gratification
They edify your integrities, so they can play on your fears

They’re gonna do you in public, ’cause you’re growing up in public
They’re gonna do it to you in public,
‘Cause you’re growing up in public with your pants down

Some people think being a man is unmanly
Some people think that the whole concept’s a joke
But some people think being a man is the whole point
And then some people wish they’d never awoke

Up from a dream of nightmarish proportions
Down to a size neither regal nor calm
A Prince Hamlet caught in the middle between reason and instinct
Caught in the middle with your pants down again

Caught in the middle, I’m really caught in the middle
I’m caught in the middle, caught in the middle deciding about you

c- 1980 Lou Reed

“How Do You Speak To An Angel”

A son who is cursed with a harridan mother
or a weak simpering father at best
Is raised to play out the timeless classical motives
of filial love and incest

How does he speak to a
How does he speak to the prettiest girl
How does he talk to her
What does he say for an opening line
What does he say if he’s shy

What do you do with your pragmatic passions
with your classically neurotic style
How do you deal with your vague self-comprehensions
what do you do when you lie

How do you speak to a
How do you speak to the prettiest girl
How do you speak to her
How do you dance on the head of a pin
When you’re on the outside looking in

How do you speak to a
How do you speak to the prettiest girl
How do you speak to a
How do you speak to the prettiest girl
How do you speak to a
How do you speak to the prettiest girl
How do you speak to a
How do you speak to the prettiest girl

How do you speak to a
How do you speak to the prettiest girl
How do you speak to a
How do you speak to the prettiest girl
You just say, Hello, (hello) Baby (hello)

Baby, angel, how do you talk to the prettiest girl, you say
Hello baby, hello baby, angel, angel, pretty little girl
Angel, angel ….

c – 1980 Lou Reed, Michael Fonfara

Okay, Home Again

Well, it did snow for the entire drive back, but so far, it’s not really accumulating. Nothing like what the northern part of the Midwest has gotten.

Anyway, I wanted to post those links from Friday.

The Finest Example posted an excerpt from my new novel Blessed By Light. The excerpt has been posted online before, but in a slightly different version. The excerpt is titled, “The Guitar Hero Goes Home.” You can read it here.

The Finest Example is a brand new online zine out of Wales, and is actively seeking art, stories, poems. So check them out if you want to contribute something.

And also on Friday, Nick Cave posted a new Red Hand Files response. It was mostly about how he and The Bad Seeds feel about their ever-evolving musical sound and how the fans (may or may not) have reacted over the decades.

It was interesting. His usual eloquence and amazing choice of words.

For me, though — wow, I can’t imagine not wanting to evolve with a band or songwriter as they evolve. Assuming they do evolve. If the music stagnates, or perhaps de-vovles, I do lose interest. But, obviously, I never lost interest in Nick Cave — or in Lou Reed, or in Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers — and they changed year after year after year. The Heartbreakers’ last records could not have been more different than how they sounded in the beginning.  For instance, there’s no way to even compare an album like You’re Gonna Get It, from 1978, with Mojo, from 2010, or their last studio album, Hypnotic Eye, from 2014.

(Which also reminds me that Mike Campbell has a new band now (and a new video — and a new album coming soon). He did about 2 years’ of touring as a guitarist with Fleetwood Mac, but now he has his own thing — The Dirty Knobs! They will be on tour this whole upcoming year.)

Okay. I’m gonna, scoot. Gotta pay bills. Collapse. Stuff like that! See ya, gang.

Leaving you with three things:  one of my favorite songs from Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers’ second album, You’re Gonna Get It; they’re perennial hit, “I Need to Know” from 1978.

Probably my favorite off of Mojo, from 2010, although it’s hard to pick an actual favorite. It was an incredible blues/rock album. The song is “Runnin’ Man’s Bible”:

My favorite off of Hypnotic Eye, 2014 — “Full Grown Boy”:

Variations on a Most Lovely Theme

Do you notice how sometimes when you’re sick, you wake up and think, Hey I feel lots better today, and so you try to do a million things only to make yourself 10 times sicker than you were even the day before?

That was me yesterday. But because of that, I spent a lot of really spacey, sort of drug-induced dreaminess in bed this morning because I was incapable of doing anything else but just lie there for 5 hours, trying to drink coffee.

And I was thinking about my Lou Reed birthday post from yesterday, and thinking about that song Walk on the Wild Side and how much it meant to me when I was growing up, and how songs like that literally  helped get me to NYC – helped me find my way there.

I moved there when I was 20, in 1980, thinking I would stay one year and then move to L.A. But once I got to New York, it was like everything I ever dreamed life was supposed to be, and also a whole lot worse. So I stayed there for nearly 30 years.

I think of those years in NYC as “my life” and everything that came afterwards as basically just the stuff I need to do before I die. Well, I did fall in love recently and that might change things, change my take on the world. It’s too soon to know for sure but I guess we’ll see.

Anyway.  Loyal readers of this lofty blog know that pretty much the very instant I moved to NYC, I fell in love with an older man who turned out to be a hitman for the Mob and then I launched myself headlong into a pregnancy with him that devastated me. And in the middle of all that, John Lennon was killed, and he was truly one of my girlhood heroes.  All of this was, literally, within a month of my moving to NYC. Once you get NYC into your veins like that — and it was so easy to do back then; it was a whole other world then — you just can’t get it out of your system, really. I became a New Yorker, like, overnight.

In the mid-1980s, I joined the Visiting Nurse Services of NY as a volunteer, because of the AIDS crisis going on back then. I went into the homes of people in the last stages of AIDS and tried to help make their lives easier in anyway they needed until they died, which was usually right away. By the time they sent someone like me into someone’s home, it was sort of the death knell.

THEM: “You’re not a nurse.”

ME: “No, I’m not.”

THEM: “Who are you?”

ME: “I’m just here to help you with whatever you need from now on.”

One of my patients was an aging black pimp up in Harlem, who had this amazing apartment straight out of the 1920s, and a wife who was still working as a prostitute, who was part black and part Chinese, who looked & dressed like an aging dragon lady. (Yes, folks, from that slice of my reality, my now classic erotic novella Neptune & Surf was born.) That particular patient – a pimp who kept his wife turning tricks until the final moment – only wanted me to read to him from the Bible, which I did, until he died.

Another patient of mine lasted for quite a few months when they assigned me to him.  I was 27 at the time. You know, this kind of work is very confidential.  However, not only was this over 30 years ago, the patient’s Significant Other mentioned me at the funeral, so that was public, and so now I feel I want to go public, too.

That particular patient was the photographer, Peter Hujar. A gentle, warm, lovely man. A very talented photographer who documented so much of the NYC I lived in — and had gone to NYC to experience in the first place.  He had some truly famous, and infamous, photos framed and mounted on the walls of his modest apartment.

I bring all this up in connection to Lou Reed’s song, Walk on the Wild Side, because Peter Hujar took some iconic photos of men and drag queens from that era, including the men Lou sang about in that song.

When Peter first let me into his apartment that first day, I looked at all those photos hanging there on the walls and was stunned. I said, “Did you take all of these? I know these photos.” They were truly part of my life.

He was already so fragile by then, even though he would live a couple more months. But that day, he said to me, “You’re just perfect, you know that? I apologize for being so sick.”  In the early days of the AIDS crisis, the patients were basically treated like they were radioactive, because the disease was not understood yet but it was killing everybody. Most people back then would not get near anyone who was known to have AIDS. It was hard for the nurses to find enough volunteers. For some reason, I never had a fear of being around them. I saw them as people who needed help while they were dying and that fear was never going to be the right response when anyone needed help while they were dying.

Below are a couple photos Peter Hujar took. Click on them and they get larger. I’m guessing he also took photos of Holly Woodlawn, Joe Dallesandro, and the Sugar Plum Fairy (Joe Campbell), but you’d have to google all that.

Candy Darling on her deathbed. I saw this photo in Rolling Stone Magazine’s Random Notes when I was 14. At the time, I simply could not believe that she was a man. I never forgot this photo and I was stunned to learn that Peter was the photographer who had taken it.
Jackie Curtis at his own funeral in 1985. Another photo I saw long before I met Peter Hujar.
One of Peter Hujar’s self-portraits. This one is from 1976, 4 years before I moved to NYC. He looked pretty much exactly like this when I met him 11 years later, although he was painfully thin by then.

Yesterday, when I posted about how the song Walk on the Wild Side helped shape my life, making me who I am, I meant it on so many levels. Even though I’m almost 60 now, those very early days of mine in NYC seem like they truly happened just yesterday.

I’m not sure why so many gay men, drag queens, heroin addicts, gay alcoholic poets and painters, had such an enormous influence on who I was and who I became as a writer and as a woman, but they really did. A song like Walk on the Wild Side is part of my DNA now.

And I think that when people in Toronto (and sooner or later NYC), finally see the one-woman show I’ve been working on for 5 years now with Sandra Caldwell about her own life (The Guide to Being Fabulous), you’ll agree that the two of us meeting at all was pure destiny from the word go.

I was totally born to do this, to help bring her incredible story to the stage.  My play, Tell My Bones, about the painter Helen LaFrance that I wrote for Sandra, is a beautiful piece of theater that I want to share with the world. But being part of a play like The Guide to Being Fabulous is why I was born.

Better than Yesterday

And sometimes that’s all I can ask for, right? That today is better than yesterday.

I’m still sick but nowhere near as bad as I felt before.  (Plus, it’s good to know that you’re never too old to throw up! That’s sure some good news!)

I’m struggling to at least get my voice back because I have a conference call with someone in L.A. in 3 hours. As of right now, I cannot talk. So we”ll see how that goes.

It would have been Lou Reed’s birthday today, had he remained alive, which he did not. But, hence, the photo at the top there.

I really loved Lou Reed so much. What a songwriter. When I think of all the later songs he did that were just so good, I tend to forget absolute gems like Walk on the Wild Side. I do not want to forget gems like Walk on the Wild Side. I don’t want to be in a world where a song like that doesn’t exist anymore. It helped shape the person I became. And as difficult as that can be for me to digest on some days, most of the time, I really like the person I became.

My daddy cat is feeling lots better today, too. He’s frisky and back to being his naughty self.  So I guess that’s good.

I had better dreams last night, too. And I awoke feeling like I was able to forgive just about everybody. There’s a few key people that I don’t forgive so much as I just sigh and say, whatever, and move on because the degree to which they need to be perpetually forgiven astounds me.

Oh, and I forgave myself. Mostly for being too trusting, and for being too quick to always blame myself.  You know, sometimes other people are wrong. It may seem like a no-brainer for you to figure out, but it’s taken me a lifetime to understand that.  That sometimes the other person is just genuinely up to no good and they know it and I need to just accept that I can be too gullible.

I mentioned this guy back in December – JosephJames.  He’s a professional reader in London and he is just so good. He really helped me again last evening, on Instagram.  He pulled the worst card in the tarot deck: the 10 of swords. I hate that card. But his take on it was so  cool. “It’s time to take the knife out of your own back and put on your wings.”

Image result for 10 of swords

He said this based on the sunrise in the background.  That 10 swords in the back is just overkill already;  get up and start a new day.  He said to put on your angel wings and just be your own angel, and accept the apology for yourself that you were never given.

So early this morning, around 5am, I was finally able to forgive certain people because I decided to accept their apology — the ones they never actually gave me. Just forgive and move on. And I’m gonna try like hell to look at all of this in a different light that somehow sublimates me and takes away my victimhood.

(I’m being alerted that “victimhood” is not an actual word, gang, but whatever. On we go.)

Okay, I need to go back to bed until my conference call. So I’m outta here. Have a terrific Saturday, folks, wherever it takes you.  Thanks for being here. I love you!! See ya.

Holly came from Miami F.L.A.
Hitch-hiked her way across the U.S.A.
Plucked her eyebrows on the way
Shaved her legs and then he was a she
She said, hey babe, take a walk on the wild side,
Said, hey honey, take a walk on the wild side.
Candy came from out on the island,
In the backroom she was everybody’s darling,
But she never lost her head
Even when she was giving head
She sayes, hey baby, take a walk on the wild side
Said, hey babe, take a walk on the wild side
And the colored girls go,
Doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo
Doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo
Doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo
Doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo
Doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo
Doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo
Doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo
Little Joe never once gave it away
Everybody had to pay and pay
A hustle here and a hustle there
New York City is the place where they said:
Hey babe, take a walk on the wild side
I said hey Joe, take a walk on the wild side
Sugar Plum Fairy came and hit the streets
Lookin’ for soul food and a place to eat
Went to the Apollo
You should have seen him go, go, go
They said, hey Sugar, take a walk on the wild side
I said, hey babe, take a walk on the wild side, alright, huh
Jackie is just speeding away
Thought she was James Dean for a day
Then I guess she had to crash
Valium would have helped that bash
She said, hey babe, take a walk on the wild side
I said, hey honey, take a walk on the wild side
And the colored girls say
Doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo
Doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo
Doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo
Doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo
Doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo
Doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo
Doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo
Songwriters: Lou Reed
Walk on the Wild Side lyrics © 1972 Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC

Another one from Hell’s Kitchen!

You mean there are more??!!

Why yes, there are more! Plenty more! All I used to do back then (in Hell’s Kitchen in NYC) was write songs. (If you’re viewing this on your phone, you have to turn your phone sideways to view this.)

Sadly, this song featured today, LOU, is one of my favorites but this is the worst demo ever of this song! However, it’s the only demo of it that I have in a digital format.

Lou Reed was one of my heroes and I wrote this song about Lou Reed. Back when I wrote this song, in 1984, I was taking a songwriting class taught by another one of my heroes, Jim Carroll. The two men were extremely close friends, and so Lou actually got to hear this song. I have no idea if he liked it or not. All I know is that the demo Lou Reed got to hear of this song was one million times better than this one, and so for that I am grateful!

The one he got to hear was of course made on the 4-track in my bedroom. It was me, my guitar, a bass player and some percussion, which was how I performed it live.

This awful demo posted here was actually made in a huge 24-track studio, wherein my opinion mattered not one iota. Oh, those heady days!! I don’t miss them at all…

Anyway, at least enjoy the lyrics, gang! Thanks for visiting. I love you!! See ya!!!

Lou Reed 1978
Jim Carroll, late 1970s