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Rating: Pure Central European decadence.
Strange parameters, already compared to the irreverently displayed glamour in the previous, unforgettable Transformer: Lou seems to say farewell to the previous album in the spirit of Kurt Weill, or perhaps Marlene Dietrich ("Goodnight ladies" - "...it's time to say goodbye...") like a Kubrick who forewarns the viewer of starting a different journey (the costume finale of A Clockwork Orange anticipates the themes of Barry Lyndon). Berlin enjoys a dual reputation: being universally regarded as one of rock's absolute cornerstones, and at the same time having the most terrifying impact that music could carry. Reed is certainly no stranger to this type of fierce and iconoclastic reality - think of the lyrics of "Heroin" for example - but here he daringly surpasses himself. The operation doesn't evoke enthusiasm in everyone; in fact, it outrages the trendiest specialized magazines for the album's "vulgarity," or perhaps the baroqueness of certain tracks or (even) its ideological ambiguity (in a raving skinhead manual from a few decades ago, it ranked first, along with Bowie's "Heroes," as an authentic prototype of the defense of the Aryan race). But these discussions have become irrelevant now: I care to express an opinion on an album that is certainly not pleasant and relaxed; in fact, I confess that each time I listen to it, the temptation to end the melodramatic - or heartbreaking, depending on one's taste - atmosphere is very strong. An unattainable album that forces the listener to immerse into the coils of a gloomy atmosphere, in the narrative the author provides: a sort of psychodrama involving a dissolute woman and the marital crisis with her husband (it seems the mental health of the album's producer, who had gone through a similar story, was shaken), the subsequent removal of the children, and the allegory of the woman's suicide.
A sort of Douglas Sirk movie if it were a film. Or an artistic feuilleton if it were a novel. Instead, it is a music album, where Reed confirms all his love for Weill, but also Broadway (two opposite worlds...but only to a point), for German melodrama and French theater. Listen to "Berlin": a piano that anticipates the ideal drama (?), a corrosion between tradition and pure desecration, almost like Liberace playing Tchaikovsky. Is it pure kitsch? Let it be: the sublime "Lady Day" could be read by everyone as a tribute to another unfortunate woman, Billie Holiday. And "Caroline Says" then? Divided into two parts, pre/post drama, something that expresses the fickle ritual of a party sunk into pure pain exile. But the imminent becomes something unsustainable, because such is the uninterrupted crying of children claiming their mother (see: the kids): "they took the children away because they said she wasn't a good mother": it's a nightmare that can lead to infantile psychic torments even if not experienced. It's a sign of an immense emotional bond, of a cynical feeling (that of the husband) that disregards the reaction the children may have... In the early seventies, Reed dared to express all this to the public, the fans: the reinvigorated image of the maternal womb, the expiation of the male forced to comment in monologue on his human and emotional defeat ("Sad Song"). Berlin is a record that wounds, shocks, destroys. It's the last frontier of a rock that dares the undareable, appropriating an artistic and "literary" language as adult as ever, without the need for ennobling itself with fierce and masturbatory classical sessions à la Keith Emerson. It probably remains the connecting link, the ideal crossroads, between punk's nihilism and "Pure" tradition. A family portrait in hell.
Tracklist Lyrics and Videos
01 Berlin (03:25)
In Berlin, by the wall
you were five foot ten inches tall
It was very nice
candlelight and Dubonnet on ice
We were in a small cafe
you could hear the guitars play
It was very nice
it was paradise
You're right and I'm wrong
hey babe, I'm gonna miss you now that you're gone
One sweet day
Oh, you're right and I'm wrong
you know I'm gonna miss you now that you're gone
One sweet day
One sweet day
In a small, small cafe
we could hear the guitars play
It was very nice
candlelight and Dubonnet on ice
Don't forget, hire a vet
he hasn't had that much fun yet
It was very nice
hey honey, it was paradise
You're right and I'm wrong
oh babe, I'm gonna miss you now that you're gone
One sweet day
You're right, oh, and I'm wrong
you know I'm gonna miss you now that you're gone
One sweet day
One sweet day
One sweet day, one sweet day
oh, one sweet day
One sweet day, baby-baby, one sweet day
one sweet day, one sweet day
04 Caroline Says I (03:57)
Caroline says that I'm just a toy
she wants a man, not just a boy
Oh, Caroline says, ooohhh, Caroline says
Caroline says she can't help but be mean
or cruel, or oh so it seems
Oh, Caroline says, Caroline says
She say she doesn't want a man who leans
Still she is my Germanic -
- Queen
Yeah, she's my Queen
The things she does, the things she says
people shouldn't treat others that way
But at first I thought I could take it all
Just like poison in a vial
hey, she was often very vile
But of course, I thought I could take it all
Caroline says that I'm not a man
so she'll go get it catch as catch can
Oh, Caroline says, yeah, Caroline says
Caroline says moments in time
can't continue to be only mine
Oh, Caroline says, yeah, Caroline says
She treats me like I am a fool
But to me she's still a German -
- Queen, ooohhh, she's my -
- Queen, ya ...
Queen, hey baby, she's my Queen
(Queen)
(Queen)
(Queen)
(Queen)
(Queen)
(Queen)
(Queen)
(Queen)
...
05 How Do You Think It Feels (03:43)
How do you think it feels
when you're speeding and lonely, come here baby
How do you think it feels
when all you can say is if only
If only I had a little
if only I had some change, come here baby
If only, if only, if only
How do you think it feels
and when do you think it stops
How do you think it feels
when you've been up for five days, come down here mama
Hunting around always, ooohhh
'cause you're afraid of sleeping
How do you think it feels
to feel like a wolf and foxy
How do you think it feels
To always make love by proxy, huh
how do you think it feels
And when do you think it stops
when do you think it stops
06 Oh, Jim (05:12)
All your two-bit friends they're shootin' you up with pills They said that it was good for you that it would cure your ills I don't care just where it's at I'm just like an alley cat And when you're filled up to here with hate don't you know you gotta get it straight Filled up to here with hate beat her black and blue and get it straight Do, do, do, do, do, do when you're lookin' through the eyes of hate All your two-bit friends they asked you for your autograph They put you on the stage they thought it'd be good for a laugh But I don't care just where it's at 'cause honey, I'm just like an alley cat And when you're filled up to here with hate don't you know you gotta get it straight Filled up to here with hate beat her black and blue and get it straight Uh-huh Oh, Jim how could you treat me this way Hey, hey, hey how could you treat me this way Oh, Jim how could you treat me this way Hey, hey how could you treat me this way You know you broke my heart ever since you went away Now you said that you love us but you only make love to one of us Oh, oh, oh, oh, Jim how could you treat me this way You know you broke my heart ever since you went away When you're looking through the eyes of hate oh, oh, oh, oh When you're looking through the eyes of hate oh, oh, oh, oh When you're looking through the eyes of hate oh, oh, oh, oh When you're looking through the eyes of hate oh, oh, oh, oh When you're looking through the eyes of hate oh, oh, oh, oh When you're looking through the eyes of hate oh, oh, oh, oh ...
08 The Kids (07:53)
They're taking her children away
Because they said she was not a good mother
They're taking her children away
Because she was making it with sisters and brothers
And everyone else, all of the others
Like cheap officers who would stand there and flirt in front of me
They're taking her children away
Because they said she was not a good mother
They're taking her children away
Because of the things that they heard she had done
The black Air Force sergeant was not the first one
And all of the drugs she took, every one, every one
And I am the Water Boy, the real game's not over here
But my heart is overflowin' anyway
I'm just a tired man, no words to say
But since she lost her daughter
It's her eyes that fill with water
And I am much happier this way
They're taking her children away
Because they said she was not a good mother
They're taking her children away
Because number on was the girl friend from Paris
The things that they did - ah - they didn't have to ask us
And then the Welshman from India, who came here to stay
They're taking her children away
Because they said she was not a good mother
They're taking her children away
Because of the things she did in the streets
In the alleys and bars, no she couldn't be beat
That miserable rotten slut couldn't turn anyone away
I am the Water Boy, the real game's not over here
But my heart is overflowin' anyway
I'm just a tired man, no words to say
But since she lost her daughter
It's her eyes that fill with water
And I am much happier this way
09 The Bed (05:51)
This is the place where she lay her head
when she went to bed at night
And this is the place our children were conceived
candles lit the room brightly at night
And this is the place where she cut her wrists
that odd and fateful night
And I said, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, what a feeling
And I said, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, what a feeling
This is the place where we used to live
I paid for it with love and blood
And these are the boxes that she kept on the shelf
Filled with her poetry and stuff
And this is the room where she took the razor
and cut her wrists that strange and fateful night
And I said, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, what a feeling
And I said, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, what a feeling
I never would have started if I'd known
that it's end this way
But funny thing, I'm not at all sad
that it stopped this way
This is the place where she lay her head
when she went to bed at night
And this is the place our children were conceived
candles lit the room brightly at night
And this is the place where she cut her wrists
That odd and fateful night
And I said, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, what a feeling
And I said, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, what a feeling
10 Sad Song (06:59)
Staring at my picture book
she looks like Mary, Queen of Scots
She seemed very regal to me
just goes to show how wrong you can be
I'm gonna stop wastin' my time
Somebody else would have broken both of her arms
Sad song, sad song
Sad song, sad song
My castle, kids and home
I thought she was Mary, Queen of Scots
I tried so very hard
shows just how wrong you can be
I'm gonna stop wasting time
Somebody else would have broken both of her arms
Sad song, sad song
Sad song, sad song
Sad song, sad song
Sad song, sad song
Sad song, sad song
Sad song, sad song
...
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Other reviews
By hans
"He could have recorded 'Transformer 2-transformer 3' and other versions of 'Walk on the wild side.' But instead, he decided to undertake the most courageous act ever seen in pop history."
"Berlin. The absolute masterpiece (among the many) of the New York author deserves a place among the greatest records of the 20th century."
By Stronko
Beyond being beautiful and particularly inspired, this album becomes indelibly linked to episodes in one’s life.
This CD, which, beyond anything else, will always be a unique and unforgettable album for me.
By AR (Anonima Recensori)
Here Reed strips himself bare, poetically, cruel towards himself.
"I am the water-boy" captures the excessive emotionality and vulnerability conveyed throughout the album.
By carlo cimmino
One evening I put on "Berlin." It was raining outside. I floated in a shabby and dusty leather armchair and in the dark, I listened in reverent silence, when I understood.
I had too many problems and she didn’t want to be involved. She was tired of being with someone who only played the role of the loser.
By Meco
The main problem is Lou Reed himself, with his monotonous, clinical, and borderline unmelodic singing.
Essentially, the album sounds bad, and not because the arrangements are intentionally sparse, but because it often lacks a fundamental blend between the various components.
