The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame announced the list of induction nominees for 2015, including big names like The Smiths, Nine Inch Nails, Sting, and Lou Reed—the rock ‘n’ roll legend who died earlier this year after decades in the business, as the frontman for The Velvet Underground and a wildly successful solo artist. The 15 selections come from a wide variety of genres and decades—from ’60s Motown (The Marvelettes) and ’60s/’70s R&B (The Spinners), to ’70s disco (Chic) and ’80s hard rock (Joan Jett & The Blackhearts) and hip-hop (N.W.A.), up through contemporary pop-punk (Green Day).
Tag: Lou Reed (1-10 of 14)
As with every awards show ever, last night’s Grammys ceremony has inspired a glut of reactions online — not all of them good. So what’s the pitchfork-wielding mob upset about this morning? Here’s a sampling:
1. They misspelled Cory Monteith’s name
As we noted last night, the Grammy proofreaders dropped the ball on honoring the late Glee star (see above). Not a good look, guys.
2. They cut off the closing act
In a show woefully short on straight-up rock music (but thank you, Metallica!), many were looking forward to the epic confluence of Nine Inch Nails, Lindsey Buckingham, Queens of the Stone Age, and Dave Grohl. Which viewers at home caught some of before the Grammys rudely interrupted the guitar heroes with a Delta promo — and then ended the telecast altogether. Trent Reznor had some feelings about it, too: READ FULL STORY
Laurie Anderson already wrote a very touching, sweet tribute to her late husband Lou Reed, who passed away last Sunday, October 27. But in the pages of the current issue of Rolling Stone, she expands upon both her personal and professional life with Reed.
In the piece, she recounts how she first met Reed in Munich in 1992. She was familiar with some of his work — but admits that she had always assumed the Velvet Underground were British and was confused that Reed didn’t have an accent. Once they connected, they rarely looked back.
“Lou and I played music together, became best friends and then soul mates, traveled, listened to and criticized each other’s work, studied things together (butterfly hunting, meditation, kayaking),” Anderson wrote. “We made up ridiculous jokes; stopped smoking 20 times; fought; learned to hold our breath underwater; went to Africa; sang opera in elevators; made friends with unlikely people; followed each other on tour when we could; got a sweet piano-playing dog; shared a house that was separate from our own places; protected and loved each other. We were always seeing a lot of art and music and plays and shows, and I watched as he loved and appreciated other artists and musicians. He was always so generous. He knew how hard it was to do. We loved our life in the West Village and our friends; and in all, we did the best we could do.” READ FULL STORY
The most remarkable aspect of the cavalcade of tributes that have been written in the wake of Lou Reed’s death last weekend is that just about everybody—including his collaborators and friends—has written about him with a genuine sense of awe. That’s how powerful and influential a personality Reed was, and that’s how deeply he touched those who were closest to him.
Such is the case with Patti Smith, Reed’s sometime friend and fellow downtown denizen. In a lovely, poetic tribute published by The New Yorker, Smith talks about hearing of Reed’s passing, reflecting on New York in the ’70s, and connecting him to a long cavalcade of poets. She talks with great passion about running across Reed while she was building the Patti Smith Group. “Within a few years, in that same room upstairs at Max’s, Lenny Kaye, Richard Sohl, and I presented our own land of a thousand dances,” she wrote. “Lou would often stop by to see what we were up to. A complicated man, he encouraged our efforts, then turned and provoked me like a Machiavellian schoolboy. I would try to steer clear of him, but, catlike, he would suddenly reappear, and disarm me with some Delmore Schwartz line about love or courage. I didn’t understand his erratic behavior or the intensity of his moods, which shifted, like his speech patterns, from speedy to laconic. But I understood his devotion to poetry and the transporting quality of his performances.”
Since Lou Reed’s death on Sunday, posts on blogs and social networks have been going up 24/7. Many, touching accounts of how the legend’s music changed their lives. (Guilty.) Others, tearful RIP sentiments embedding favorite songs and YouTube clips eulogizing the rock iconoclast. (Guilty again.) For the lucky few, memories of The One Time They Ran Into Lou Reed; sometimes he was a total crank, sometimes he was a prince. (Sadly, none to share.)
But the best (and most anticipated) post about Lou Reed came today, and evokes what has been sorely lacking in the personal remembrances: “incredible joy.”
Writing for the East Hampton Star, Reed’s widow Laurie Anderson reminds us that Lou Reed lived a beautiful life, had one last perfect day, and that because of it, and the memories and songs he’s left us, it is indeed a “beautiful fall!”
Read Laurie Anderson’s full obituary below. Try to fight back that smile—and tear. Or don’t, actually. Just feel, as Anderson intends, the “incredible joy.”
READ FULL STORY
Rock history is littered with band leaders who made game-changing contributions within the context of their groups, but struggled to make an impact on their own. For all the mind-blowing tunes he dealt out with the Rolling Stones, Mick Jagger’s solo output is pretty embarrassing, and though some of his post-Talking Heads music has been legitimately wonderful, David Byrne has never been able to replicate the Heads’ collective magic.
Not Lou Reed. His work with the Velvet Underground is rightfully heralded as legendary, but his solo career was just as powerful and inspiring. Throughout his solo run, Reed felt free to explore all sides of his personality, from the theatrical glam of Transformer to the sweet subversive pop of Coney Island Baby to the brutal drone of Berlin. Not all of his dalliances were successful—not even contrarian hipsters cop to liking the notoriously unlistenable Metal Machine Music, and his Metallica tag-team Lulu is problematic at best—but he took bold chances and hit more than he missed. READ FULL STORY
There are a lot of things Morrissey does not care for, but Lou Reed isn’t one of them. The Smiths frontman has expressed his reverence for Reed many times over the years, and yesterday he posted a short, moving tribute to his idol online.
Posted on True to You, a Moz fan site, the Pope of Mope wrote of the late Velvet Underground (and beyond) singer:
‘Oh Lou / why did you leave us this way?’
No words to express the sadness at the death of Lou Reed. He had been there all of my life. He will always be pressed to my heart. Thank God for those, like Lou, who move within their own laws, otherwise imagine how dull the world would be. I knew the Lou of recent years and he was always full of good heart. His music will outlive time itself. We are all timebound, but today, with the loss of liberating Lou, life is a pigsty.
Though they founded the Velvet Underground together and collaborated on and off for nearly half a century, Lou Reed and John Cale had a relatively contentious relationship over the course of their intertwined careers. (As recently as earlier this year, Cale expressed consternation over Reed reviving their Andy Warhol tribute project Songs For Drella.)
But that was put aside following the news of Reed’s passing. Cale took to his Facebook page yesterday to express his thoughts on his former bandmate in the wake of his death. “The world has lost a fine songwriter and poet,” Cale wrote. “I’ve lost my ‘school-yard buddy.'”
Reed, Cale, Sterling Morrison and drummer Maureen Tucker launched the Velvet Underground in the mid 1960s and produced two albums together—1967’s The Velvet Underground and Nico and 1968’s White Light/White Heat—before Cale was replaced by Doug Yule for the band’s 1969 self-titled album. Cale and Reed clashed over control of the band and its direction, with Cale always trying to pull more and more into the droning sounds of tracks like “Venus In Furs.”
Since leaving the Velvet Underground, Cale had a moderately successful solo career (his signature album, 1973’s Paris 1919, is a classic of the genre) and has also done well as a producer, primarily for late former VU chanteuse Nico.
In 1989, Reed and Cale came together following the death of mutual friend and mentor Andy Warhol. The pair had not spoken to one another for years before Warhol’s memorial service in 1987, and they reunited in 1990 to write a song cycle about Warhol called Songs For Drella. Though they didn’t tour, they did make a concert film shot by ace cinematographer Ed Lachman, which is hard to find but well worth seeing. Cale and Reed last worked together on the Velvet Underground reunion tour in 1993.
Reed passed away yesterday, October 27. The cause of death has still yet to be announced, though he had recently undergone surgery for a liver transplant.
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