Fra
artikel i Rolling Stone om alt mulig Lousk:
"In 1975,
Lou Reed gave
Andy Warhol
a BASF C-90 cassette. One side was a mix of live Reed songs recorded at
recent tour dates. The other was an apparently homemade demo of a dozen
songs based on his friend and mentor’s newly-published
The Philosophy of Andy Warhol: From A to B & Back Again,
The story of the “Philosophy Songs” tape came to light this fall when
Cornell professor Judith Peraino published an essay called
“I’ll Be Your Mixtape: Lou Reed, Andy Warhol, and the Queer Intimacies of Cassettes” in
The Journal of Musicology.
(Full disclosure: Peraino is a friend.) The recordings had been but a
rumor among Reed superfans, and the existence of an actual tape of them
in the Andy Warhol Museum archives in Pittsburgh
made news internationally, in spite of the fact that almost no one could hear it.
The museum’s all-knowing late archivist, Matt Wrbican, was well aware
of the tape before Peraino happened on it. But due to access and
copyright restrictions, it hadn’t been written about until the author
gained access to the recording, recognized its importance, and gamely
worked around the restrictions. In the essay, she broadly described 12
songs played on acoustic guitar, rudimentary folk and rock riffs with
audible traffic noise in the background; on one of them, she noted a
boogie groove resembling “I Wanna Be Black,” a then-unreleased song Reed
had been performing live (a version appears on the tape’s flip side).
Peraino noted lyrics that touch on ideas from
Philosophy and
other Warholia, among them the presentational heroics of drag queens
(“ambulatory archives of ideal moviestar womanhood,” as Warhol wrote in
Philosophy),
fame, success, and sex, plus reflected stories and gossip from Warhol’s
circle, which Reed was still part of. Assorted signature Warhol
expressions (including the notion of a “put on”) are referenced, ditto a
story about his dog taking a shit in the aisle of his local Gristedes
grocery, the conceit of a Warhol doll that does nothing when you wind it
up, plus assorted gripes and snipes — a “shocking tirade of bitterness
and accusation” towards the artist, as Peraino fairly describes it —
capped by Reed’s apologetic authorial endnote."
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