My relationship with Lou Reed

It's funny how I was first introduced to Lou Reed. It was indirect. It was unintentional. It was via a group of guys from Queens, almost 30 years his junior:

After hearing the song a few times, I decided to do some research on the lyrics. Who the hell was "Mr. Dinkins?" And why did A Tribe Called Quest want him to be their "mayor?"

Well, I never did find out who Mr. Dinkins was, but I did discover "Walk on the Wild Side"

The original took the place of the sample. "Dinkins" was subbed out for "Dean." I was walking on the wild side (Fordham Road is pretty wild) during my last year of college.

And then, while teaching English in Korea post-graduation, the song became a noreabang (karaoke) favorite performed by myself and some other guy who tried to blog blogged while overseas. It mostly involved throwing microphones back-and-forth, Jamiroquaing furniture around the room and singing "doo do-do do-do do-do doo do-do ... " over and over again.

But Reed was always there in the background. Talking about Holly from FLA, or Sugar Plum Fairies hittin' the streets. And whenever I hear it now, I think of that room. I think of the drinks, the friends from around the world, the great times we had ...

Eventually, I heard more Reed. And it was again indirectly (Don't ask me why I didn't search out more of his material. I'm a jerk). I saw Adventureland the very same year, a movie that was chock full of Reed references and songs. "Satellite of Love," "Here She Comes" and "Pale Blue Eyes" all made appearances:

It was a coming-of-age film about spending the summer working at an amusement park -- something I did in my high-school days. Young love, stupid mistakes and an overpowering innocence. Reed's music helped ripen that nostalgia and bring about some fond memories.

From there, and on my journey back to living in New York City, I've branched out to his live recordings in London, his Oh! Sweet Nothings and sweet,

Sweet Jane:

Songs that balance the ups, downs, confusion and excitement of living in NYC. A wild night out on the town, or the disappointment of a lost opportunity. An urban soundtrack for anybody's early-20s.

I may not be the biggest Lou Reed fan, but he's definitely played an interesting part in my young adulthood -- meeting me in NYC, traveling on my laptop to South Korea and waiting for me upon my return.
He will definitely be with me as I make my move to Brooklyn (his hometown) later this week. And although our relationship may be strange and a bit wild -- something tells me Mr. Reed wouldn't have wanted it any other way.