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LOU REED
RATING: 8
PLAY THESE: PERFECT DAY, WALK ON THE WILD SIDE, SATELLITE OF LOVE
SKIP THESE: NONE
There is no doubt that Lou Reed's Transformer was shocking when it first appeared on record shelves back in 1972. I mean, just look at that iconic album sleeve. Are you frightened, Middle America? Lou Reed's black-eyed, semi-effeminate Frankenstein stare leaves enough of an impression, but when you first hear the confrontational sexual ambiguity of the lyrics you can't help but understand why this album is one of the seminal (no pun intended) moments in rock history. Produced by fellow gender-benders David Bowie and Mick Ronson, Transformer introduced Lou Reed to the mainstream glam rock audiences of the early 1970's, and in so doing created one of those albums that rests comfortably on most critic's "top 20 most important rock album" lists, but no one ever listens to. It's the type of album that everyone pays lip service (no pun intended) to, but no-one seems to have actually heard it, save the classic rock radio staple 'Walk on the Wild Side.' In other words, it's yet another "sacred cow" of rock. However, I'm not about to flame (no pun intended) this particular false god - at least not enough to completely char it to bits. You see, Transformer does have its unique merits, and when combined with the fact that it made a statement very relevant in the times in which it was created, you can't exactly claim that this album is a bad one. As a wise 1980's robot cartoon show once observed, Transformer is certainly "more than meets the eye." (hehehe...).
As previously mentioned, this album is produced by glam icons David Bowie and Mick Ronson. It is therefore not surprising to discover that it sounds a lot like Bowie's Hunky Dory, which just so happens to have a similar menacingly European lounge-jazz atmosphere. Like Hunky Dory, Transformer has occasional shards of ear-splintering guitar, subtle string arrangements, loads of piano and acoustic guitar, and similar sexually ambivalent word play. That being said, the differences end there, because despite the presence of Bowie, this is still undoubtedly a "Lou Reed" album. Whereas Bowie's early 70's Iggy Stardust persona was that of a cold, distant Martian, Lou Reed is the real deal, the man of the street, the salt of the earth. Very street-wise American, if you like. His direct, hard-hitting accounts of life in New York's seedy, drug-addled, and perverted underworld couldn't be more different than Bowie's cold English detachment, and his fixation on Martian drag queens.
If you need proof of this album's depravity, just listen to 'Walk On The Wildside,' which is the only top ten hit I can think of that contains the phrase "giving head." How did that one get past the censors? They must've really had their heads firmly planted in their own backsides not to have picked up such outrageous debauchery, never mind the song's unveiled references to transsexuals, homosexuals, and prostitutes. However, the song has more than just pure shock value going for it. Reed's "do, do, do" scatting in the chorus is a great hook, and the cool standup bass line is the epitome of cool. But the song is trashy, that's for sure.
Sometimes the sexual politics get carried a bit to far though, and at times it sounds like Reed's deliberately yanking our chains (no pun intended), and playing to the lowest common denominator. Witness 'Make Up,' the chorus of which declares "we're coming out of our closets" in such an obvious tongue-in-cheek (no pun intended) manner that it's clear Reed and Bowie were just trying to get a rise (no pun intended) out of the stuffed suits. After all, I think it's clear by now that neither of these guys are actually gay, at least not now anyways. As such, lyrics like these seem a bit too calculated. As Marc Bolan once admonished, "you don't have to shock to rock," and in this case this is truism is never more appropriate. It seems as though the album's highest musical peaks are reached when Reed forgets about pushing people's buttons and delivers a simple, heart-felt tune, as is the case with the album's most touching (no pun intended) moments in 'Satellite of Love' and 'Perfect Day.' The former tune is a great semi-acoustic song with nice melodic flourishes, while the latter comes off very poignant glimmer of hope in an album full of seemingly unending darkness, and as such has a deep emotional resonance. It has a good hook as well, which helps in its noble cause. I also like the album closer 'Goodnight Ladies,' a lounge jazz parody with a decadent ambience that features a the coolest of brass instruments, the tuba. How sweet is that?
The rest of the album, however, doesn't have quite the same musical impact. The majority of the remaining tunes are unremarkable rote rockers, most of which are frankly a bit obnoxious at times in terms of the incessant perverted sexual imagery. The confrontational album opener 'Vicious' is a somewhat memorable rocker, but other than that there's not really any other great up-tempo songs. I'd even go as far as to call much of it slightly generic and banal, and not even Reed's unique avant-garde style can completely save the situation. The melodies just aren't all that great, and even though Reed's grizzled vocal delivery is the very definition of New York cool, it does get tiring by the end. And maybe it's just the repressed Mennonite in me, but I feel kinda icky by the end of the record.
So, in the end, we have a real mixed bag (no pun intended) here. On one hand, the album really meant something to people thirty years ago, and made one of the loudest, most uncompromising political statements in rock history, and when you consider the fact that there are four or five outstanding songs you have to admit that the album is very good. It deserves to be placed on a pedestal and worshipped, there is no doubt about it. On the other hand, with so much unmemorable material it's very hard to put this album in the same class as works of art like Sgt Peppers Lonely Hearts Club Band, or even Bowie's own Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders From Mars. In closing I will leave you with a parting question that just might sum up everything you ever need to understand about Transformer: do you love the album, or do you simply admire it from afar? Thought so. That would be an eight out of ten, then.