Someone told they were discounting cassette tapes at the department store, a big table full of them. I went there over lunch hour, dug myself a way through piles of absolutely horrific music and just when I thought of calling it a day, thanks for the tip but no thanks, there it was. A tiny, yellow orange rectangular. Lou Reed, Berlin. I had known about Lou Reed since a couple of weeks, listening to Transformer and Sally Can't Dance, but was still blissfully unaware of any of his other feats. Berlin sounded good, though. Song titles like Men of Good Fortune and How Do You Think It Feels carried lots of promise as well. I firmly grabbed the cassette, smiled at the man posing as security and when he looked the other way let the box slide into my coat's pocket.
At home I had trouble making sense of it all. I didn't get most of the lyrics and found the music not as easy and rocky as I had hoped it would be. But my pride for having nicked this gem was not to be undone. I told my older brother, this is Lou Reed, he is the best and I stole the tape. Stole it? my brother inquired. Sure, I said, it's worth way much more than a few lousy guilders, so why not take it for free? I felt having gone through the risk of getting caught paid infinitely more tribute to the music's greatness than money ever could.
Next day as I listened through the whole album again, during The Kids a surprise awaited me. The music suddenly stopped and my brother's voice was heard through my boy's room speakers. Remember, my friend, cheats never prosper. After a short silence Caroline's crying children took over again. That fuck of a brother of mine had messed up my music!
I nevertheless kept playing the tape until the sound had completely faded (this happened to cassettes in those days) and replaced it with the cd many years later. I still listen to it regularly and I still feel good every time I recall how I made this music mine.
For a comprehensive movie on Lou, check out this link: Rock and Roll Heart
