As 2011 comes to an end, we are taking a look back at some of our favorite posts of the year by our guest editors.
Heavy Years: 2000-2010 (Ernest Jenning) is the latest release from Brooklyn-by-way-of-Chicago singer/songwriter Chris Mills. The 14-track retrospective compiles songs from his last four albums, along with two new tracks recorded with DJ Oktopus (Dalek). Mills is currently on the road supporting Heavy Years, and he will also be guest editing magnetmagazine.com all week. Read our brand new Q&A with him.
Mills: Lou Reed is one of my biggest heroes. His New York album came out when I was in high school, and it blew my mind. I made sure that “Dirty Blvd.” was on the stereo the first time I drove across the GWB. I think Transformer is one of the greatest albums ever. The impact of the Velvets is undeniable, and his writing definitely changed my life. That’s why I almost fell over when I realized I was standing next to him at the concession stand one night at a West Village movie theater. It is the closest that I’ve ever been to someone I consider a true legend. He ordered a coke and small popcorn. He looked older than I would have imagined, but he still capably rocked the black leather pants and black T-shirt as he shuffled off toward the theater.
When I got back to my seat, he was sitting right behind my friend and me.
“David” I whispered, “Lou Reed is sitting right behind us!”
“Cool?” he replied.
And for me, at that moment, it was cool. Fucking Lou Reed was sitting right behind me!
Then the movie started.
Now I’m sure that the ravages of age can be especially devastating if you’re someone in the public eye. People want to remember you as you were, and aren’t very forgiving of who you may become. And I’m not here to complain about older people. Older people are great. My parents are older people. I’m planning on being an older person. But as I sat there in the dark, with Lou Reed in the row behind me, I began to feel like I was watching an episode of Murder She Wrote with my mom.
Lou: “Now who is that?”
Lou’s friend: “That’s the guy who stole the gun.”
Lou: “Which gun?”
Lou’s friend: “The police detective’s.”
Lou: “Ohhhhhh. OK.”
And so on. Ninety minutes of meandering commentary, plot questions and conversation from one of my biggest idols ran through the entire film. It was like the world’s worst DVD extra. I felt like I was going insane. I couldn’t shush him. It was Lou Reed for Christ’s sake. But I couldn’t believe that this arbiter of cool, this paragon of hip, my hero, could so thoroughly ruin what should have been a perfectly lovely night at the movies.
I still love Lou. I still think he’s a genius. And I think there are still great records lurking inside him waiting to be made. In retrospect, though, I don’t think I was bothered just because I can’t stand it when people talk at the movies, I was bothered because it made me face the reality that even though I feel like a young-ish rocker in my prime right now, no matter what I do and no matter how good my stuff may or may not be, I too may one day end up just an old guy in leather pants mumbling into my popcorn. If it can happen to Lou, it can happen to anybody.
Video after the jump.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-41MDNaSEM0
