Lou Reed
American Poet

THE REVIEW

"Hey Boss, how much is that?"

"15 Euros!"

"See you later... damn... I'm not in the mood to shell out 15 euros for a face on a T-shirt."

...later that same evening...

"Hey boss, now I'm drunk on notes, enough to let myself be screwed by your hefty economic demands. How much is that?"

"Still 15 euros!"

"I'll give you 5!"

"Give me 10 and go home... stoned!"

And so it was, one night last summer, after his concert in Pescara, I managed to snag a Lou T-shirt with the cover image of "Transformer". As I headed to the car, with Tore (my alcoholic guide) in tow, I turned that T-shirt over... "damn... in the car, let's put on American Poet... as a peaceful mantra." And the drunkard said: "So cool!!" As we were searching for a damned highway to take us back to Naples, and the Tots launched into "White Light/White Heat," Tore, more and more intoxicated with notes, shook his head, oblivious to the fact that there wasn't a single hair left on that hemisphere. And as he shook, I took the highway. In the dead of night, the Velvettian notes rang out, and I thought that after all, old Lou had chosen a good backing band for his solo debut. Vinny Laporta and Eddie Raynolds played so hard that it seemed hair started to grow back on the alcoholic passenger's head. The driving "Vicious" delighted us and matched the ups and downs of that highway.

The canine howls of old Lou echoed in the night, and we were becoming one with it... that face, on which makeup lay ominously, rested on the back seat. While old Lou was on Lexington with 26 dollars in hand, waiting for his Puerto Rican pusher, we impatiently awaited the Molise exit (not that Lexington and Molise share the same rock aura... let's be clear). "The exit is closed... damn!!" the boogie of "Walk it Talk it," and at some point, we didn't even realize we were a few kilometers from Foggia. "The shaken drunkard" had momentarily returned his brain to earth, perhaps "Sweet Jane" had tired him, "can't take this damn song anymore, Lou!!" But let's be honest, the annoyance with "Sweet Jane" can last just a verse, just long enough to find the road to Campobasso. In the dead of night, our bladders demanded revenge, and while Lou wished for a quick death for Doug "the homewrecker" Yule, we wondered how it was possible that in mid-July, in that remote corner of the world called Bojano, it was so cold. Ask "the shaken drunkard," in the next hour, "Heroin" must have entered my bloodstream, because I engaged in a battle with the GPS that wanted Campobasso, while I aimed for Isernia. "Are you high?... we could have shared!!" and yes, now the car plunged into the night, curve, straight, curve, straight... Isernia! "Satellite of Love," "Walk on the Wild Side," by now the mantra had taken its effect, we were starting to calm our spirits, but not our stomachs. Caianiello offered us respite and then the last kilometers to Naples, finally free, the nocturnal mantra of "American Poet" had fulfilled its task. "I'm so Free!!" Alone in the car ("The shaken drunkard" had dragged his weight home), the refined opening of "Berlin" and the kick of "Rock'n'Roll" rolled the ending credits on that hallucinated evening among rock dealers, T-shirt sellers, "shaken drunkards" and deserted roads. "For tonight, that's enough... dear Lou, we've brought a bit of your New York around southern Italy."

... I almost forgot... buy this record... it truly is a great live performance, it’s not yet the Lou of "Rock'n'Roll Animal," the arrangements are more bare and less "glamorized"... try living your own "Rock night" (and now that I've done the commercial... I'm going to listen to it again).