Thursday, October 10, 2013

A Long Line of Crosses: Sergio Garrone's HANGING FOR DJANGO

While he never gained the notoriety of many of his peers, director Sergio Garrone carved out a most interesting place in Italian Cinema history with just over a dozen films that spanned the late part of the sixties up into the early eighties.  A more prolific writer than director, Garrone's career behind the camera didn't begin until he was already in his forties.  He established himself, almost immediately, as both a filmmaker to watch and as a unapologetic trend-hopper in 1966 with his directorial debut, the Italian Western "Se vuoi vivere... spara" (If You Want to Live...Shoot). 
From the get-go, Garrone's films had an strangely surreal and oddly oppressive feel about them.  His filmmaking touches were wonderfully rough around the edges but there were striking signs of finesse and style.  In his best films, such as 1969's "Django il bastardo" (Django the Bastard), 1974's "Le amanti del mostro" (Lover of the Monster) and his infamous S.S. Camp movies of the late seventies, Garrone created  frenzied hallucinatory works that still sets him apart from more recognizable genre giants.  Simultaneously jarring and oddly poetic, Garrone's best moments behind the camera had an urgency that stood with some of the finest Italian exploitation works of the seventies.  One of Garrone's key, if little-seen works, 1969's Una lunga fila di croci (Hanging for Django) is getting ready to make its Blu-Ray premiere here in the states via a fine edition from Raro Video and Kino Lorber. 
Operating as both a seriously sympathetic portrait to the plight of Mexican Immigrants in the old west as well as a deliriously violent exploitation picture with an absolutely dizzying number of gunfights throughout, Hanging for Django is one of Sergio Garrone's more striking and, relatively speaking, sedate works.  While not as nightmarish as the more well-known Django the Bastard, nor as off the chain as his later Naziploitation films, Hanging for Django still casts its own very distinctive spell.  Featuring a number of beloved genre icons, including Anthony Steffen, Nicoletta Machiavelli, Mariangela Giordano and a terrific William Berger (who delivers one of his best screen-performances as a bounty hunter preacher named Murdoch) Hanging for Django might not stand with the best European Westerns ever made but it has a number of great moments that will surely delight fans of the genre. 
While the cast alone would have assured that Hanging for Django was a fully-loaded production the real stars of the show are editors Cesare Bianchini and Marcello Malvestito, whose superlative cutting work here is unbelievably creative and consistently surprising.  The duo's wildly audacious editing services Garrone's off-kilter, and often unexpected, angles and framing incredibly well.  Hanging for Django suffers at times, due to a rather pedestrian script from Garrone (centered an admittedly intriguing premise) and a clearly lower than needed budget that hampers a number of interior sequences, but it is a good film and its return is very welcome. 
Bianchini and Malvestito aren't the only great behind the scenes artistic duo fuelling Hanging for Django as strong words of praise must go to cinematographer Franco Villa (who would shoot a number of the seventies great Italian genre films) and the legendary Aristide Massaccesi (Joe D'Amato) whose work here as a camera operator is extraordinarily ballsy (check the incredible mid-film gunfight where D'Amato expertly (and literally) flips the camera to match the action creating one of the most exhilarating moments I have seen in some time. 
Hanging for Django is ultimately a good film made up of a number of truly great moments (Berger's eerie introduction is particularly mesmerizing) but it never quite reaches the excellence of the finest European westerns of the period.  The pros far outweigh the cons though and I would recommend it without reservation to even casual fans of the genre.
Raro's new Blu-ray is absolutely beautiful.  The print is immaculate and both the English Dub and Italian language track are wonderfully preserved and presented.  The excellent quality of the disc perhaps, at times, makes the films low-budget a bit more transparent than it needs to be but Raro and Kino have done an impressive job here.  Two extras are available with the first being a small unattributed booklet and the second being a featurette entitled "Bounty Killer for a Massacre", which is in reality a 2007 fifteen minute chat with author and film historian Manlio Gomarasca.  The disc will be released later this month and can be ordered at the links above, at Amazon or at any number of your preferred retailers. 

-Jeremy Richey, 2013-

Tuesday, October 1, 2013

Happy October!!!

 
HAPPY OCTOBER EVERYONE!  Here's to a frightfully awesome month!

Monday, September 30, 2013

Remake/Remodel

I am currently in the process of giving Moon in the Gutter a much needed upgrade.  This will include changing the look of the blog, updating the links sections and ironing out a few other kinks.  This will be a work in progress but I hope to get the majority done this week and then get some new posts rolling out.  Thanks for your patience and continued support!

Wednesday, September 18, 2013

Keep a Look Out For...

I wanted to take a moment and share some information about some upcoming releases I am very excited about. 

First up, my friend and past Moon in the Gutter Q&A participant Jill Nelson is working on an exciting new book entitled 1976:  Tapes From California and she has just started a new blog dedicated to it.  Jill is one of my favorite writers and is a terrific person so please give a visit to her new blog and support her upcoming book. 

Next up we have the much anticipated re-release of David Hess' incredible soundtrack to Wes Craven's Last House on the Left. I have just pre-ordered the limited to 1000 CD and can't wait to hear it.  Here is the link for American readers and a different one for International followers

Back to the bookshelf, legendary actress Seka is getting ready to release her sure to be essential autobiography Inside Seka.  I am expecting my copy from Amazon next week and look forward to covering the book here after I read it.  Here is the Amazon link for those interested, as well as a recent New York Daily News article on it

On the DVD and Blu-ray front.  Severin Films has some amazing new releases coming up including a special edition of one of my favorites House on Straw Hill and a limited edition package dedicated to Jess Franco's The Hot Nights of Linda.

Kino Redemption continue their incredibly valuable Mario Bava collection with two key films just released on DVD and Blu-ray, A Bay of Blood and Five Dolls for an August Moon. Both discs look incredible and contain essential Tim Lucas commentary tracks. 

Two of my favorite bands, Goldfrapp and Mazzy Star, return this month.  Both releases are a major cause for celebration. 

Finally the great Kathleen Hanna has recently resurrected her band Julie Ruin and the new EP is a real jaw dropper.  Visit their site here and give a listen. 

Tuesday, September 10, 2013

A New Project and the Return of an Old Friend




After about a year of being totally burned out and exhausted I have started to feel like I am back in business as the summer is drawing to a close.  I have several writing projects I have been working on (more details soon) and I am feeling reenergized, reorganized and revitalized personally, professionally and spiritually.  To capitalize on this I recently started a new project and am restarted an older one. 
First up we have the long gestating Jean Rollin Forum, a message board I recently created to go along with my Rollin blog Fascination.  Two weeks in and we already have over a dozen members and a number of great conversations going.  If you are interested in Rollin please visit the board and send me a membership request to access all of the forums. 
Also, I have just relaunched Harry Moseby Confidential, my tribute to the figures, films, sights and sounds of the seventies!  Consider this Moseby 2.0 as I am expanding it to include not just the seventies but the fifteen year period between 1968 and 1983, probably my favorite stretch of time in popular culture. 
So, pay me a visit to both places and Let's Rock Again!

Sunday, September 1, 2013

Into the Black: Jess Franco's THE AWFUL DR. ORLOF (1962)

It's one of the most brilliant and shocking openings in horror film history.  As we are greeted with the first flickering of celluloid we see a seemingly abandoned alley only visibly lit by a lantern in the foreground.  The black and white photography is immediately jolting and that, combined with the deadening silence on the soundtrack, makes us think we are perhaps watching an expressionistic film from the silent era.  As the camera begins to pan down to the street we suddenly hear a the sound of a woman singing and the first strains of the film's audacious and dissonant jazz score.  A lady of the night comes into frame as the camera pans down even more.  She is holding a purse in one hand and a wine bottle in the other and she is clearly intoxicated.  She sings, and even twirls, as she stumbles down the street to a door as the camera lingers and the music on the soundtrack gets progressively more percussive, more intense.  The credits begin to roll as she opens her door...L'Horrible Docteur Orlof or The Awful Dr. Orlof depending on which version you are watching.  What an utterly bizarre title that is and yet even before we are even a minute into the film it seems to capture the sheer oddness of everything that is beginning to play out in front of our eyes.  The woman makes her way into her flat but our eyes are left on the alley, once again seemingly abandoned, as the credits continue to roll.  After a moment the camera begins to slowly pan up the side of the building and we notice the first edit in the film and it is almost a subliminal one.  A light appears in the window and BOOM edit number 2 but this one is jolting...even harsh.  We are suddenly in the woman's apartment and the dark oppressive lighting outside has been transformed into something brighter but somehow even more menacing.  The woman continues to sing and stumbles around her room as the camera quickly pulls back, its stillness replaced by a sudden frenzy.  She takes yet another drink and is then momentarily entranced by her own reflection in a mirror.  The music takes on a brief eerie stillness as our unnamed heroine shuffles to her closet where, upon opening, she is greeted by a truly horrifying sight as the soundtrack swells into a deafening shriek.  Another jolting cut, a zoom-in on a man in the closet, his eyes bulging and lifeless.  Is he wearing a mask or is he horribly disfigured?  We only get a glance before another cut, this time a close-up of our female victim before another edit takes us back into the room where we witness a brutal attack.  A fight ensues, the man pushes the woman towards her window and then we are suddenly back to our spot on the street looking up.  The edits then take on a frenzied rapid fire approach cross-cutting rapidly between the fight, a shocked boy staring out of his apartment window and a man awakened by the sounds of his neighbor screaming.  We see the lamp in her apartment knocked over in the scuffle as the as of yet unnamed assailant renders her unconscious and carries her possibly lifeless body out of her apartment back to our abandoned alleyway.  Our attacker wanders aimlessly down the alley way until the sound of cane tapping against a nearby wall alerts him to follow.  We see a stranger in the distance waiting and then leading this mysterious monster, and our doomed lady, down another isolated alley way into the deep dark black of the night. 
 
 

While Gritos en la noche, or The Awful Dr. Orlof as it is more universally recognized, wasn't the first film that Jesus Franco Manera had directed it was the work that would forcefully announce him as one of the most daring and distinctive filmmakers of the sound era.  Viewed now more than fifty years after its original 1962 release date The Awful Dr. Orlof stills feels as perverse and shocking as ever.  While it is much more controlled and subtle, mostly due to the rigid censorship that was in place in the early sixties, than Franco's most personal later works it remains one of the most progressive horror films ever made.  As Cathal Tohill and Pete Tombs would write in their indispensable Immoral Tales, "there was nothing old hat about this dank masterpiece, it pulsed with a new freshness, ransacking the annals of cinema with a deviant vigor."
 
 

I must admit that I have never felt the remaining portion of The Awful Dr. Orlof ever quite matches the absolute genius that is on display during its opening few minutes.  Aspects of the film have a certain procedural quality that I don't completely respond to but there is no question that it is one of the most important films in Jess Franco's unbelievably prolific career and one of the most important films of the sixties.  While actors Howard Vernon, Diana Lorys and Richard Valle (so unforgettable as the monstrous Morpho) all give star-making turns my favorite aspects of the production remain Franco's daring direction (which transcends the film's incredibly low-budget and chaotic shooting schedule in every shot), the incredible black and white photography of Godofredo Pacheco (which manages to tip its hat to decades old classics while being totally transgressive) and the ferocious cutting of editor Alfonso Santacana (who would put many of the skills he had learned working with Franco to iconic use a couple of years down the road for Sergio Leone's A Fistful of Dollars).  Despite its budget, and forgiving some continuity errors that were caused by the varying versions of the film prepared, The Awful Dr. Orlof is an incredibly well-made and effective film.  It remains perhaps the easiest, and most natural, entry-way into the world of Jess Franco even though ultimately I think he would perfect many of the films themes and stylistic touches in later works. 
 
 
The Awful Dr. Orlof has recently been released as a splendid special edition DVD and Blu-ray by Redemption/Kino Lorber.  Containing the more explicit French-language cut (with the English dub offered as a separate audio-track) this newly struck print of The Awful Dr. Orlof looks quite good.  Some print damage is apparent throughout the film but I have never seen a version of this work that is visually as detailed and intoxicating.  Like their other most recent Franco releases (A Virgin Among the Living Dead and Nightmares Come at Night) The Awful Dr. Orlof comes armed with some really splendid extras including a David Gregory directed and Elijah Drenner produced interview with the much-missed Franco and a terrific new near 20 minute documentary on the film from director Daniel Gouyette.  A trailer for the film, and other Franco titles, is also on hand as well as a photo gallery and the very moving Gouyette work Homage to Jess that also graces the other new Franco releases.  Last but certainly not least we have a wonderful new Tim Lucas audio-commentary, that is a wonderfully detailed and an essential listen for fans of the film, Franco and horror-cinema in general.  If I have one complaint about this new special edition release of The Awful Dr. Orlof it is that it doesn't contain the longer alternate Spanish version that is mentioned numerous times on the film's supplements.  Otherwise this is a stellar new release and a major upgrade for an undeniably important film. 
 
-Jeremy Richey, 2013-


 

 

Wednesday, August 14, 2013

My Look at Michel Lemoine's Seven Women for Satan at Mondo Macabro



I was recently invited to submit a piece for Mondo Macabro's great blog focused on one of their past releases.  I chose Michel Lemoine's terrific 1976 feature Seven Women for Satan and my look at the film is now available to read for those interested.  Thanks to Jared over at Mondo for asking me!

Thursday, August 1, 2013

Into the Ether with Jess Franco's A VIRGIN AMONG THE LIVING DEAD

Among the finest creations found in the lengthy filmography of late Spanish auteur Jesús Franco Manera, and one of the most startling films of the seventies, A Virgin Among the Living Dead makes its Blu-ray debut this month via a terrific special edition from Kino Lorber/Redemption
While I have often picked A Virgin Among the Living Dead as my absolute favorite Franco film I came to the work later than most of his others I first encountered through grey market VHS copies throughout the nineties.  For whatever reason, A Virgin Among the Living Dead wasn't among the Midnight Video or Video Search of Miami tapes, that Tim Lucas mentions on his tremendous new commentary track, that either me or my movie buddy Dave ordered back in the day.  While I had read much about this film I didn't finally get a chance to see any version of it until just over a decade ago when it first made its way to DVD as part of Image's Euroshock line. 
I fell in love with Franco's hypnotic 1973 masterpiece during that first viewing in my late twenties.  Watching it that first time I felt like I was, in a way, collapsing into the film and all these years (and viewings) later it still mesmerizes me in a way that few fantastic works of art do.  It's a remarkably meditative work that is as compelling as it is strange and as surreal as it is oddly grounded. 
Pulsing with a soothing narcotic feel punctuated at nearly every turn by Bruno Nicolai's absolutely gorgeous score, A Virgin Among the Living Dead is an incredibly singular experience.  While it was marketed both as a horror and sexploitation film during its various theatrical runs, A Virgin Among the Living Dead is very much one of the great European Art Films.  It's breathtaking in both its thematic scope and its punctuated brevity and it has a striking emotional core that is sadly missing from most modern 'genre' films.  A Virgin Among the Living Dead is among the richest and most rewarding films in Jess Franco's canon as well as being one of the most fully realized, a fact that is made all the more remarkable when one considers just how consistently tampered with the film was through the years. 
Redemption's excellent new DVD and Blu-ray offers up A Virgin Among the Living Dead under the title Christina, Princess of Eroticism, the 79 minute cut of the film which is the closest we have to Franco's preferred version of one of his greatest works.  The disc also offers the infamous 'horror' version, as an extra, featuring all of the padded out Zombie footage French filmmaker Jean Rollin shot years later, which I wrote a bit about here at my Rollin blog.  The new disc also offers up some extremely strange 'alternate erotic footage' featuring Alice Arno, that would have been just as out of place in Franco's soulful work as Rollin's undead were.  While Christina, Princess of Eroticism is extremely close to Franco's original cut, it shouldn't be forgotten that A Virgin Among the Living Dead is still a compromised work, a sad fact that points to how much Franco had to work against throughout his combative career. 
I am hesitant to write too much about A Virgin Among the Living Dead as it really is a work of art that needs to be experienced and I don't want to spoil anything for readers who might not have seen it before.  I will say that it has a number of images and moments that even if I had only seen once would have eternally stuck with me.  If I am ever asked what it is that I love so much about this particular period of esoteric European filmmaking A Virgin Among the Living Dead is one of the key works I would point to.   More importantly it is one of the pictures I would suggest to less adventurous film fans who still think of Jess Franco as a lesser, or even poor, filmmaker.  I defy anyone to watch this film and not be impressed by the amount of passion, skill and thought that can be found in each frame. 
Redemption's new discs offer up the best looking print of the film to date.  While it is noticeably more grainy and scratchy than Image's older DVD it has a much more consistently vibrant and warmer feel throughout.  Skin-tones are much more natural, the day for night shots more sinister and the new disc has finally just a more cinematic look about it.  To go along with this struck from negative print we have three audio tracks; the preferred French, the atrocious English dub and the aforementioned Lucas commentary, which is among the best he has ever done. 
Along with the alternate version and footage I mentioned earlier, Redemption's new discs have several other extremely valuable extras including trailers, a photo gallery and one of the final filmed interviews with Franco by David Gregory and Elijah Drenner.  Best of all are two featurettes from former Jean Rollin assistant Daniel Gouyette, The Three Faces of Christina (which chronicles the various different versions) and Jess! What are You Doing Now? (an incredibly moving tribute featuring friends and collaborators conjecturing on Franco's role in the great beyond).  All in all Redemption's new release of one of Jess Franco's key films is an absolute knock-out in every way and one of their best releases so far and can now be ordered from Kino, Diabolik and Amazon.

-Jeremy Richey, 2013-

Monday, July 22, 2013

More Than Just I: Lou Reed's BERLIN at Forty

"He could have made Transformer 2, Transformer 3, "Walk on the Wilder Side", Walk on the Not so Wild Side" but, instead, he elects to take one of the bravest steps I've ever seen, in pop music history anyway, and he goes out to make a seminal work that digs deeper inside the soul of the artist than any other work that had been released, certainly into the American music scene, in fifty years."
                                                                 -Bob Ezrin, Producer-

 

Before I ever heard Berlin I had read it.  It was the fall of 1989 and I had just begun my sophomore year at Castle High School in Newburgh, Indiana.  My life had been forever altered a year or so previously when I had found Lou Reed's 1980 LP Growing up in Public in my dad's record collection and since then I had totally immersed myself in every Lou related recording, book and article I could get my hands on.  These were the days before the internet made everything so readily available and, while nearby Evansville had several solid record stores, I had been unable to track down Lou's 1973 concept album Berlin.  Finally, hoping it would push my family forward into the CD generation, I picked up a copy of Berlin and Deborah Harry's Def, Dumb and Blonde on disc at Evansville's long since vanished Track Records before we even had a CD-player.  With no way to play to play the disc I only had the booklet and lyrics to obsess over.  Early in that school year I would keep a copy of that Berlin booklet in my school folder and I immersed myself in Reed's dark tale of the doomed lovers Jim and Caroline like the great literary work it was at its core.  By the time I finally heard the time the album, later that year at a friends house who had gotten a CD player before me, I already knew all the lyrics by heart. 
 
 
Berlin isn't my favorite Lou Reed album, that distinction belongs to 1979's The Bells, but to deny that it is among the most important works in his collection would be extremely misguided.  Released forty years ago this month, Berlin remains one of bravest, most inspired, most influential and most daring recordings of the seventies.  It is an album that has inspired a countless number of artists from David Bowie to Bat for Lashes and it foreshadowed the post-punk movement by nearly a decade.  As popular music becomes more and shallow, plastic and unnecessary Lou Reed's epic tale of abuse, addiction, redemption and romance becomes more resonate and more mythic with each passing year.  I can't imagine my world without it and when I listen to it today it still infuses me with the same kind of passion and intensity it inspired in me more than twenty years ago when I first heard it. 

Critic Michael Hill pointed out in the liner notes that graced the 1998 remaster of Berlin that even though while rock listeners in 1973 were, "primed for a masterwork", Reed's album was, "met with confusion, revulsion and anger" upon its initial release.  Reed had scored an worldwide smash a year before with the David Bowie and Mick Ronson produced Transformer and, despite that fact that Rolling Stone predicted that Berlin would be "the Sgt.Pepper of the Seventies", the collection was indeed mostly greeted with indifference or outright hostility.  It was the most grown-up album rock music had ever seen and most were simply not prepared for it. 

Before the days of downloads and streaming, the first thing a listener would have taken in upon getting an album would be the sleeve.  The original LP of Berlin just feels HEAVY.  A gatefold with a pull-out booklet, Berlin was graced with a beguiling and mysterious design by Pacific Eye and Ear and featured a number of haunting Saint-Jivago Desanges photos.  Reed himself appears on the cover of this incredibly cinematic collection armed with a guitar and a look that could cut through steel.  As David Fricke of Rolling Stone would point out in the 1998 documentary Rock and Roll Heart, while other popular artists of the day were making records of the time Reed was making records, "of his time" and you can just feel the absolute audacity of Berlin before the needle even drops. 

Despite the fact that Berlin is one of the most cohesive concept albums ever made a number of its tracks had been recorded previously by Lou as far back as the mid-sixties.  Early versions of "Men of Good Fortune", "Caroline Says", "Oh Jim" and "Sad Song" had all been worked on by The Velvet Underground and an extended version of the haunting title-track had appeared on Lou's self-titled debut lp a couple of years previously. 



Certainly Lou's personal and professional relationship with Nico had informed the album as well.  Nico would later claim that Lou, "wrote me letters saying Berlin was me."  The album would really be a tribute to Lou Reed's literary background and his dedication to writers like Delmore Schwartz, Hubert Selby and Raymond Chandler.  Berlin would represent Lou's goal of presenting characters as sharply-drawn and well-rounded as those artistic mentors in the medium he was working with in 1973.  Reed would state that, "the real important thing is the relationship between the two major characters" and, "the narrator is filling you in from his point of view, and his point of view is not particularly pleasant." 

The behind the scenes tales of Berlin are as legendary as the album itself.  Berlin's brilliant producer Bob Ezrin discovered heroin while recording the lp and suffered a, "chemical breakdown", upon completing it.  He recalled that, "we were all seriously ill" and that Berlin, "put me out of commission for quite a while."  Reed recalled that, "we killed ourselves psychologically on that album", and that they had, "went so far into it that it was kind of hard to get out."



Berlin is indeed one of the most damaging listens in all of popular music.  From the mysterious distant echoes of the riotous birthday celebration that opens the album to the remarkable string section that closes it (a string section Ezrin would later revisit on Pink Floyd's The Wall) Berlin is an unbelievably intense work that never lets up its incredibly tight grip.  Lester Bangs would famously call it, "a gargantuan slab of maggoty rancor that may well be the most depressed album ever made" in the pages of Creem a couple of years after Berlin originally shocked listeners who dared to take its ominous journey. 

Reed and Ezrin created Berlin utilizing the largest cast of supporting players that Reed would ever work with.  Everyone from famed jazz musician Michael Brecker to Cream co-founder Jack Bruce to legendary Traffic leader Steve Winwood makes a contribution.  It's ironic that a recording that sounds as unbelievably out of step and isolated as Berlin had so many well-known hands in the mix.  Reed was thrilled with the results and he would state in early 1976 that Ezrin, "did a great job" and in fact, "everybody on that album did a great job."  While all the supporting players are indeed fine Berlin's shining stars are ultimately Reed (whose nearly always underrated vocal stylings have never been quite as effective and sinister as they are here), Ezrin (nobody produces with this kind of passion anymore) Dick Wagner and Steve Hunter (whose ferocious dueling electric guitar playing remains an absolute highlight). 



While Reed's lyrics for Berlin have been rightly celebrated time and time again one of the great things about it, that isn't stated enough, is just how well-played and produced it is.  It's a record that influenced generations of musicians and yet there still isn't anything that sounds quite like it. 



Years before the great Julian Schnabel finally made Berlin into a film cinematic connections were already being made.  One of the artists most effected by the album was legendary Kraftwerk co-founder Florian Schneider, who would mention in 1975 that he felt, "Berlin is projecting the situation of a spy film, the spy standing in the fog smoking his cigarette."  Lou would say of the album in 1977 that Berlin, "was a movie in sound" and by 1979 he admitted that he would, "love to see Polanski make a movie" of it. 
 
Polanski never did make that movie but when Schnabel and Reed triumphantly revisited Berlin on stage and on film in 2008 it was fitting that it was Polanski's greatest creative and real-life muse Emmanuelle Seigner who would finally so brilliantly bring tragic Caroline to life. 
 

 
Who exactly Caroline was based on has been conjectured about for years.  Was it Nico?  Was it Reed's wife at the time Bettye Kronstadt?  Author Chris Roberts likely nailed it in his mostly disappointing Walk on the Wild Side: The Stories Behind the Songs that, "Caroline is a composite", that, "manifests as a fevered brew of vulnerability, paranoia, suffering and bullying."  She is certainly one of the most unforgettable characters in rock history and she inspired some of the most penetrating a memorable lyrics of Lou Reed's career.  Reed's understanding of the importance and power of the lyrics he penned for Berlin led him to reproduce them for the first time with an album.  He would later recall that even though, "people don't deserve good lyrics because they never listen to them" he chose to have them printed with Berlin.  Like the music they took rock to that very adult level Lou had been striving for since he first played John Cale an early version of "Heroin" in the mid-sixties.  Reed would state in 1976 that, "Berlin was an album for adults", and, "the whole thing started because (he) wanted to write songs about something that was relevant." 
 
 

Berlin is indeed relevant.  It isn't a stretch to say that without it the course of popular music would have been much different.  Would we have a Low, Lust for Life, Dub Housing, Metal Box, Psychocandy, Daydream Nation or Kid A without Berlin?  Perhaps but I doubt any of those albums would have sounded quite the same without Reed's visionary recording.  Lou Reed's pulverizing portrait of a lost couple in a divided city, he had never even visited before recording, had an effect that went beyond critical acclaim or mass commercial acceptance (although time often forgets it remarkably went Top Ten in the UK).  Berlin has never been an album for all tastes but those who are touched by it are never quite the same...
 
I was two months old when Berlin was released in the summer of 1973.  It's strange for me these four decades later to picture Lou Reed and Bob Ezrin finishing up touches on this piece of work, that would come to mean so much to my life, as I was first coming into this world.  While I am one of many who discovered Berlin in isolation an odd community has formed around the album.  While it is too corrosive and dark to take its deserved place among rock music's most celebrated albums, this community that holds Berlin close to their hearts share a special bond and when we pass down the sometimes ominous and dark corners of our lives we can greet each other with a knowing nod and understand, as Reed so eloquently wrote, that we are indeed "more than just I". 

                                                                -Jeremy Richey, 2013-

The quotes for this piece were taken from the American Masters documentary Rock and Roll Heart and the books Beyond the Velvet Underground by Dave Thompson, Lou Reed Between the Line by Michael Wrenn and Walk on the Wild Side:  Lou Reed The Stories Behind the Songs by Chris Roberts.