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All that is to say that shortly earlier than he turned 40, Reed had established himself as one of many saddest burnouts of all time. Within the absence of inventive and business success, his mercurial persona and self-destructive habits made him look much less like a rock star and extra like an bizarre asshole: somebody who had gotten what a technology of musicians dreamed of and traded it for what tens of millions of dumb, violent addicts couldn’t escape.
After which he dropped The Blue Masks. It sounded completely different from something he had accomplished earlier than however was unmistakably him—the quote-unquote actual Lou Reed everybody acknowledged however nobody may duplicate, a sound that was directly new and a return to type. The primary time I heard it, I assumed The Blue Masks was ironic; the second time, I started to suspect that it was the least ironic album of all time. It’s unusual, particular, and painfully sincere, ugly in locations and delightful in others: in different phrases, a redemption story. No matter Reed had misplaced over that final decade, artistically, he bought it again.
What modified? For one factor, he dramatically lowered his consumption of medication and alcohol, though as with many addicts who get clear beneath their very own supervision, how shut he bought to zero BAC isn’t clear. He additionally married Sylvia Morales, a youthful painter and poet whom he met at CBGB in 1977. Largely leaving New York Metropolis—Reed stored his rent-stabilized condominium within the Village—the 2 lived collectively in Blairstown, New Jersey, in a home within the woods close to a lake.
The primary observe of The Blue Masks, “My Home,” is, not less than on a literal stage, about Reed’s perception that this house in Blairstown isn’t solely “very stunning at night time” but additionally haunted by the spirit of his former school professor, the poet Delmore Schwartz. This concept is astonishingly self-centered, which is how Reed was getting sober. Taking inventory, he sings that he’s bought “a fortunate life/My writing, my bike, and my spouse/And to high all of it off, a spirit of pure poetry/Resides on this stone and wooden home with me.” One can solely think about how thrilled Schwartz can be understanding that he was remembered as a determine of comparable significance to Reed’s bike. However as with nearly each observe on this album, the true topic of “My Home” isn’t the home or its appurtenances; it’s Reed’s ongoing battle to dwell productively amid the furnishings of his personal thoughts.
These furnishings are previous however unfamiliar, as if Reed had woke up from a blackout and was them for the primary time—which, in lots of respects, he was. The alternately healthful and agonizing expertise of seeing himself clearly is the central theme of The Blue Masks, and it’s mirrored within the alternately stunning and grotesque sound of the instrumentation. These preparations are much more expressive than the phrases, if solely as a result of they convey feeling unconstrained by that means or circumstance and due to this fact parallel Reed’s dislocating new sobriety. The singular sound of The Blue Masks gives a counterpoint to Reed’s lyrics, nudging them over the road from form of dumb to positively dumb and due to this fact nice.
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