Lou Reed
The Best of Lou Reed

THE REVIEW

Today, I'm not a hero.

Today, I don't feel like the protagonist, the one in the spotlight, the showman with his arm raised asking his companions to follow him to freedom.

That's all bullshit.

I've always preferred the antagonists, those with a difficult past who have a lot to say, a lot to discuss. But they get booed.

The dirty, mean, and unpleasant ones who pursue their inner struggle. But today, I feel like crap and more than anything, I feel like the henchman punished by the villain after failing his mission.

What would have become of Eric Draven if, after being awakened by the crow, he hadn't had anger and depression boiling in his blood? Is evil a necessity? Maybe.

Today, I'm not a hero, and I certainly won't be one tomorrow.

Lou Reed tells stories about prostitutes and junkies; they throw syringes at him on stage, not flowers.

But he couldn't care less. You know what your judgment matters to someone who was subjected to electroshock by his parents for alleged homosexuality as a kid. Absolutely nothing.

A friend of his sings about how you can be heroes for one day, just for one day, not today. A rotten apple might want a space on that lawn and wait for dawn without answering the question that causes him a headache: "who am I?".

Besides, how beautiful is the human being with all its contradictions. Beautiful? You must be joking. It's disgusting; let's stop seeking good and evil, as we don't even know the difference. All the same and all scrutinizing, staring and mocking each other. Like barking dogs. Like stars placed in that filthy sky vying for your gaze by prostituting their splendor.

But I'm not a hero, nor a fake good guy, so I'm not the same as those obsessive gazes waiting for approval, maybe smiling with pointed canines in view and a proud look, right after receiving their reward.

Keep the jealousy, Oedipus man, and throw it like a frisbee. Also, take a good dose of fear and pretend it's Greek courage. Wear your blue mask, and watch the satellite cross the threshold your eyes will never ever glimpse.