Mewing forth through the traipsing haze of the street corner comes Lou Reed, the acknowledged mahatma of punkography, acknowledging the homage that’s been paid him for so long and setting about showing the kids just how it’s supposed to be done with Street Hassle. His tremulous asphalt scenes and back alley scenarios have been mainstays for so long that it’s become all too easy to dismiss his lack of real out-of-control energy as artistic complacency and/or outright boredom. Not so; Lou has always been the master of the back beat, the honcho supreme of slippin’ in and out of life with as much aplomb and reserve as possible. He’s the ultimate disciple of cool--and he knows it.
As the only truly transitional cultural form ever created, rock ’n’ roll, with its sense of humor, its ability to seriously make fun of itself, has continued to survive. And despite all the portents of grim, sleazy “art” that many choose to see his work (especially as a solo performer) as being, Lou has always had that innate sense of rock ’n’ roll humor; it’s enabled him to survive the rages of changing musical ideologies. So no matter how many “serious” reviews of this album you read, always keep in the back of your mind the fact that underneath it all is a subtly hidden smirk.
Right from the opening song, “Gimme Some Good Times,” Reed gets into a self-parodying rank out session, just like the black kids talkin’ down on their mommas; in the background the various strains of his greatest hits, mainly the ever sublime “Sweet Jane” motif, with Lou meeting the ever present friend on the pavement. “Hey, there’s the rock ’n’ roll animal--whaddaya doing?” Lou replies, in punk nasal drone, “Standin’ on the corner, suitcase in my hand...” etc., ending up with the imaginary acquaintance calling him a faggot. Smirk one.
Smirk two comes a little later when he does the much-anticipated and long-awaited “I Wanna Be Black.” The song has long been an underground classic with variations of the lyrics having been circulated over the years like secret, holy tomes expressing the inner wishes of so many of the so-called critical establishment who know that things would be a helluva lot easier if they were black, you know, readymade political heritages and readymade funk: now you’re gonna tell me that lines like “I wanna be black and shoot my jism twenty feet/I wanna be black and have a girlfriend named Samantha” aren’t funny. It’s here that Lou takes the essence of the street and carries it through to its sort of logical conclusion. Back in the heyday of New York’s musical mania the Velvets were pulling the heart muscles out of a listening audience who needed the surgery. Lou was quoted as saying that when the Velvets had their doo-doo-wahs and sha-la-las down they were as good as any band around and they were (makes sense then that on his one radio hit as a solo--“Walk On The Wild Side”--Lou had a chorus of mean sounding ladies supplying him with the necessary do-wop quotient).
On Street Hassle he has transformed the do-do-wahs of his earlier efforts into a blanket statement, i.e., he just wants to be black. As a matter of fact, he’s even gone so far as to make the background sha-la-las into one of the main characters in his “Street Hassle” epic, thereby showing his need for the languages of the street as well as his ability to transcend them. The need for these gutter rhythms is essential, though somewhat diminished in this day and age of two-chord wonders what can’t sing their way outta plastic body bags if they tried (and they don’t). Back when it was all on the streets, a common sight was a group of kids collected in a musical pool singing the songs of the day while passing the wine and time of day. That was the spark of the rock ’n’ roll spirit and that spirit still lives, only nowadays kids are gathered on the corners on their bicycles mimicking the stage antics of Kiss while singing “Dr. Love” ’til the sun goes down and it’s time to watch James At 16. The spirit of the motion, the spirit of the emotion, is still there and still vibrant and still as intoxicating as ever, so when Lou pays homage to it, he’s doing what more people oughta do--he’s paying rock ’n’ roll back for what it’s given his soul.
So the best thing to do with this album is blink your eyes and think of this as Lou Reed’s first solo album since he left the Velvets and the whole thing will hit a clear-cut and precise perspective in your head. Street Hassle is as perfect an album as you’ll ever want to hear. This is definitely the time for Lou Reed.
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