Today marks the first anniversary of the death of Lou Reed.
Last year, when the news hit, I wrote a tribute and so far on this series I’ve
posted on three Reed songs, two he recorded in his solo career, and one on
the first Velvet Underground album. For today, I’ve selected a song from the
Velvet Underground reunion that took place in 1993 for a short European tour—and the album drawn from three concerts, three nights in Paris. It seems to me
fitting as Reed and guitarist Sterling Morrison are both gone (Morrison since
1995) and so why not pay tribute to the most recent time when all the
original VU members worked together?
What’s more, because John Cale was
only on the first two Velvet Underground albums, and since I prefer the third
album, without him, to the second album (the songs on
Velvet Underground, 1969, are simply better than the songs on
White Light/White Heat), it’s of interest
to me to hear this live treatment of “
Some Kinda Love” (originally on the third album) as
though it’s a second album song. Get it?
White
Light/White Heat is the noisiest VU album;
Velvet Underground is the quietest. In 1993, the “noise” factor is
increased considerably, with Morrison doing one of his more extended guitar
solos and Cale coming in at the end with a wonderfully disjointed electric
piano solo.
Lou’s vocals can be a bit erratic on the released recording
of the shows, as he seems to want to treat words as excuses for dragging out
syllables, as though he’s trying to create a melodic line, when we all know
that Reed’s great gift as a singer is to sound as though melody were the furthest
thing from his mind. Oftentimes in his career he more or less talks
rhythmically, but I suppose the rigors of playing live made him feel an urge to
work his vocals a bit more.
His approach
is particularly extreme on “Beginning to See the Light” where you’re happy for
Cale’s attempt to deliver “how does it feel to be loved” more or less straight
while Lou does his vocal hiccups.
“Some Kinda Love” suffers a bit from the tendency, but in
general Reed keeps his eye on the ball, probably because it’s one of the more
interesting lyrics from his VU days. In fact the opening verse is so good, it’s
worth quoting in full: “In some kinds of
love,” Marguerita told Tom, / “Between thought and expression lies a lifetime /
Situations arise [here “evolve”] / Because of the weather / And no kinds of
love / Are better than others” / La-di-ta-ta-ta
There you have two little comments that amount to something
of a philosophical position. One is that “love” is something that must find its
proper expression—and that the quest to find the right occasion might take a
lifetime. Your expression may lag far behind your conception, in other words.
The second statement is in two parts: the part about situations and the weather
is a way of saying that there’s a certain je ne sais quoi to what makes love “happen,”
and what makes love “depart.” It comes and goes, we might say, like the
weather, but there’s also a certain pragmatism embedded in that in the same way
that, y’know, you dress according to the weather. Similarly do you make up your
mind how to “dress” appropriately for the “situations” of love. Finally, there’s
a very open-minded embrace of whatever might arise (or evolve), as no kinds of
love are better than others. A flat out statement not simply of equanimity but
also of equality. As Andy Partridge says in “Peter Pumpkinhead”: “Any kind of
love is alright.” How could one condemn an actual love?
The song goes on in this vein with Marguerita giving Tom the
what-for. Going so far as calling him “a bore”—“but in that you’re not
charmless.” One imagines that this is not an usual position as women can find
bores charming much as men can find bitches charming, when the mood (or the
weather) thus strikes. Though the end of Marguerita’s magnanimous gesture
toward the lovableness of a bore ends with “and some kinds of love are mistaken
for vision.” Which should give us a pause if we feel inclined to give ourselves
too much credit in this romance biz. I take the sentiment to suggest that, though
you might feel you are a giving person in allowing for the charm of bores, you are still
self-serving. Love is a dish, we might say, that one cooks for oneself, then
looks to find someone else who shares the taste
and the appetite for the concoction.
The bridge, about putting jelly on your shoulder to do what
you fear most, is odd but it leads to one of those moments when Lou Reed gets a
bit more forthcoming than usual: “that from which you recoil but which still
makes your eyes moist.” There you have his typical perversity, which might be
something of an oxymoron. Reed knows that the thing that makes you uneasy is
the thing you secretly crave, or at least is the thing to which you have a
strong visceral connection and his point here is that “some kinda love” can be
unpleasant, and make you anxious, and make you like that jelly. “Lie down upon
the carpet / Between thought and expression / Let us now kiss the culprit.” I
guess we’re a little closer to seeing the thought made flesh, so to speak.
The version of the song on Velvet Underground has a
distinctive swirling guitar sound and a very lambent vocal from Reed. And that’s
fine, but I like hearing the song become, live in ’93, one of those epic
workouts I love so much on Live ’69 (also, sans Cale). So let’s hear it for the
reunited VU even if it was just for the money. And let’s hear it for our lost
Lou and his thoughts and expressions.
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