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He was dismissive in our interview when asked what he hoped people would say about his work when he was gone. "I don't give a (expletive)," he said. "Who knows or cares? "I don't expect anything at all from anything and I never have," he said. "I'm not trying to change anybody's mind about anything. I'm not trying to win anybody over. I'm happy to get up in the morning. I can tie my shoelaces. I haven't got hit by a car. I just love the music and sound and wanted to make it better, so if someone else wanted to hear it, they'd get some bang for the buck." The people who cared about his music always knew there was a heart beating strong beneath that gruff exterior. The wild side was hard to miss, but the tenderness of a "Pale Blue Eyes" is hard to forget, the regretful young man singing that he "thought of you as everything I've had but couldn't keep." Reed's 1989 album, "New York," was a rocking, superbly written chronicle of a city in the midst of a crack epidemic, before it was later cleaned up. On his song, "Dirty Blvd.," Reed details a scene of hustlers and hopelessness and those hookers again, zeroing in on Pedro, who escapes into his own dreams of transcending his environment with the help of a book of magic plucked from a garbage can.
Throughout the depressing scene he paints, Reed's voice is a monotone dripping in cynicism
-- until he gets to Pedro, where it lifts up a few notes, as if he can lift Pedro above the world he's living in to a better place. It's a moment of exquisite beauty. Fly, fly away, Pedro. You, too, Lou.
[Associated
Press;
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