One year ago today, Lou Reed died. A year or two before that, he released his final album, which he described - in his own inimitable way - as "maybe the greatest thing anyone has ever done". That album was Lulu, a fusion of metal, poetry and nineteenth-century German drama, made in collaboration with Metallica. The responses from reviewers were predictable - they were baffled at best and outright scornful at worst, as they always are to anything outside their comfort zone. Hell, even I hated it when I first heard it. But now, a year on from Reed's death, it seems like a good time to revisit an album that, even if it didn't quite live up to its creator's hyperbole, was still a major work by one of the greatest songwriters of the 20th century.
Lulu kicks off simply, with the strummed acoustic guitar and sung/spoken lyrics that kick off "Brandenburg Gate". After a few bars of that, it explodes, with James Hetfield playing a simple yet stunning chord progression that would not have sounded out of place on Set the Twilight Reeling. The lyrics are difficult to decipher at times, but overall the song paints a picture of someone arriving in a new town, with a lot of history behind her. Lulu, the eponymous protagonist of this album, has arrived. If she is a stranger in a strange land in that song, in the next she's moved up the ladder quite a bit. "The View" presents Lulu as a deity, a creature of immense and destructive sexual power. It also contains some of Reed's greatest lyrics - "I am the truth, the beauty / That causes you to cross / Your sacred boundaries / I have no morals / Some think me cheap / And someone who despises / The normalcy of heartbreak / The purity of love / But I worship the young / And just-formed angel / Who sits upon the pin of lust". That is pure poetry. She possesses all the dark power of a character in a Howard Barker play - hers is a sexuality that destroys all those drawn into her orbit - and yes, she is the table.
The next track, "Pumping Blood," is "Venus in Furs" turned up to 11. This is no longer sex as a weapon - this is pure sex, albeit in a uniquely Lou Reed way. The opening to "Mistress Dread" drags a little - well, it drags a lot - but once Reed starts singing, it's worth it. "insert a fist, an arm / Some lost appendage / Please open me I beg" - those lyrics, man. This is something beyond simple submission - like Sarah Kane's Phaedra, Lulu is a character who wants to be completely subsumed into her lover. This is love as self-abnegation. "Iced Honey" is about the impossibility of that kind of love, and the pain that all love entails, and as such it's an incredibly moving song even with James Hetfield groaning in the background. "Cheat on Me" has another overlong intro which, coupled with Hetfield's desperate attempts to hit the notes, makes it weaker than the preceding songs. There are some great lines, though, and it's a pretty effective song of self-loathing - Lulu has hit rock bottom. "Frustration" switches the perspective around, giving us the point of view of one of Lulu's jealous, obsessed lovers. There are moments that remind me of nothing so much as Scott Walker.
"Little Dog" is chilling, though I'm not sure where it fits into the narrative. Are we hearing Lulu's voice, or that of the previous song's narrator? It seems as though we're getting a new part of Lulu here - she's become a prostitute and returned to her position as sexual force and agent of domination from "The View". But there's a sadness in this song that I can't quite figure out. "Dragon" gives us the other side of the coin - the spurned lover condemns Lulu over a serviceable metal riff. But throughout the vitriol, there runs a thread of love - despite all, this man cannot help but care for Lulu. "Junior Dad," the album's final song, is a climactic outpouring of desperate love, and one of Lou Reed's finest songs.
In conclusion, Lulu was one of Lou Reed's best albums. If you're a Lou Reed fan, buy it. If you're a Metallica fan, get your parents to buy it for you (also, you can read! Well done!)
His week still beats your year.
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