From The Desk Of Steve Kilbey: “Berlin” By Lou Reed

Steve Kilbey is best known as the frontman of Australian legends the Church, whose “Under The Milky Way” was one of the defining alt-rock singles of the late ’80s. He has also released records with the likes of Grant McLennan, Martin Kennedy and Donnette Thayer, as well as a number of solo albums. Aside from being a member of the Australian Songwriters Hall Of Fame, Kilbey pens poetry and is an accomplished painter. His latest CD is Life Somewhere Else (Communicating Vessels) by Isidore, a collaboration with Jeffrey Cain (Remy Zero). Kilbey will also be guest editing magnetmagazine.com all week.

Kilbey: I didn’t mind Lester Bangs too much until he gave Lou Reed’s Berlin a bad review. Man! Sometimes critics, even “big” critics, can get it so wrong. Jesus, no wonder Lou is/was cranky, because this record has been delivering. It has given much satisfaction to me for almost 40 years, and I am still as fucking knocked out by it now as I was then in 1974 when I got it. Why am I talking about Berlin? Well I guess because Lou just turned 70, and it seemed to tie in to wax all lyrical about Berlin.

I rate it up there with Big Star’s Third/Sister Lovers as one of the best albums whose overriding feelings are profound sadness and bewildering despair. There is a story, but there isn’t a story … figure it out for yourself. Sometimes Lou is the narrator, sometimes he’s the guy in the songs themselves; his perspectives drift around delightfully. Yes this is rock ‘n’ roll and you don’t have to spell everything out. The second song,”Lady Day,” doesn’t really fit in a narrative sense, yet it gives us almost an overview going back years and years. I love the way Lou conveys distance in his voice, his timing, his choice of words, the way he, like Dylan, will refrain from making a beautiful melody too damn obvious, the way Lou will let all the music drain out of his singing suddenly, always emphasizing his numbness and his dislocation.

Jack Bruce, the legendary bassist from Cream, jumps in and fucking hammers his growling Gibson in an unbelievable virtuoso performance on “Men Of Good Fortune,” and yet at the same time it’s raw, wild and dissolute. Again, “Men Of Good Fortune” doesn’t fit the narrative. It’s more like a song where Lou makes wry observations of humanity and then icily divorces himself from the seething avaricious mess with reverberating disdain: “Me, I just don’t care at all.” We never know or ask from whose perspective this song is from. Is it Lou or the guy in the story? Or is it another meta voice merely commenting? Now the story itself is pretty simple, a wife turns to shameful, drunken behavior, and eventually she takes her own life. You never hear the husband tell his side of the story, so painfully poignant like this before or since.

We go through all the emotions with Lou, and wonder upon wonder, we emerge at the other end transformed mysteriously and feeling good! Such is the magic of a tragedy for us to go through another’s grief and emerge better for it. Berlin is one of the very best records ever made anywhere by anyone, and each listen still reveals new angles and details. The music itself is superb, too, and it’s everything from simple rock to complex orchestral thingies … wow! Berlin: Every home should have one!