I cried when I met Lou Reed. I didn’t weep. I just had tears in my eyes. It was February 1996. We waited for him after his show at Massey Hall. There were many of us by the door. But he let us all in. I handed him a copy of his book, Between Thought And Expression. I thanked him for Magic and Loss. I cried. He looked at me a little strangely. But it was alright.
It was alright.
I was in Greenwich Village in March 2004. We were looking for a place to eat breakfast. We came to one restaurant. I don’t remember its name. I looked into the front window and saw Lou Reed sitting there with Anthony from Anthony and the Johnsons. I said, “We’re eating here.” I just watched him from afar. I was eating breakfast in the same restaurant as the King of New York.
And it was alright.
I cried this morning when I saw that Lou Reed had died. I cried many times. Our heroes are aging. My heroes are aging. None of them are immortal. I learned about words from Lou Reed. I learned about New York. About S & M. About the gift of three chords. I learned you don’t need a perfect voice to sing the perfect song. I learned from Lou Reed first that rock music can be poetry.
This is the first song I ever heard from Lou Reed. It’s called Dirty Boulevard. And it is magic.
And it was alright.
I love you, Lou. Thank you for helping make me me.
