THE INTERVIEW
With the Velvet Underground,
he was the epitome of downtown
cool. As a solo artist, he played
the part of glam god, noise
provocateur, and critics’ bête noire.
Still, Lou Reed insists,“There’s
nothing complicated about me.”
Kind sir, we beg to differ.
By DAVID MARCHESE
Photograph by MARK MAHANEY

HAIR AND MAKEUP BY SARA GLICK FOR ART MIX

Lou Reed does not abide. Nor should he. Not when the lifelong New Yorker exploded rock’s borders with the Velvet Underground and invited cross-dressers and speed freaks onto the charts with “Walk on the Wild Side.” Sure, Reed’s restless muse often leads to the likes of 1973’s sepulchral concept album about suicidal lovers, Berlin, and 1975’s feedback opus Metal Machine Music, but he doesn’t care what you think anyway. “Do I feel vindicated?” he snaps over artichoke salad at a chic West Village café, as he discusses

those albums’ recent critical reevaluation.
“For what? I always liked Berlin.” Reed’s
2006 live performances of that album are
out now on DVD and CD.
Testy moments aside, Reed has aged
well, being feted at this year’s South by
Southwest and, last April, finally marrying
performance artist Laurie Anderson.
Despite his iconic status, he, like mentor
Andy Warhol, was never one for nostalgia
and, as always, brooks no bullshit. The
implication, as with so much of his work, is
this: Take nothing for granted.