My Handshake w/ Lou Reed

As some of you (or at least Ronn) may know, I spent the last month attempting to score an interview with Lou Reed while he was here in town to perform. A month went by with no response, so I thought I had been given the typical “I’m a big-time celebrity and serious artiste, so why would I waste my time answering your questions?” brush-off. So, I decided for the next best thing: stand outside the Norva, get his autograph, ask him a few questions.

My fiancé and I waited outside for an hour and a half watching his road crew load up the truck, the band members take their gear (and venue-supplied “road supplies”) to the van, and then I saw her: Lou Reed’s manager AKA the woman I had sent the e-mail to a month ago. I told myself (and my fiancé) that by the end of the night, I would introduce myself to her, “remind” her of my e-mail, and state my case yet again.

An hour and fifteen minutes into our wait, I approached her politely: “Excuse me, ma’am...”

“He’ll have his own Sharpies if you need one.”

“No, I have one of those. I don’t mean to impose but is your name XXX?”

“Yes.”

“I’d like to introduce myself; James Duval, WODU Radio. I e-mailed you about making an interview request and I wasn’t sure if you’d received it. But if you had, I was wondering why you may have rejected my request.”

“Well, we just started this tour a few days ago and we really hadn’t had time for press.”

“No, this would have been about a month ago. I know that’s a long time to you, but I was hoping I could refresh your memory. You see, I’ve always been interested in his music and would really enjoy the opportunity to interview him. I read the interview in the local paper…”

“Which one?”

“XXXX. I don’t mean to be rude, but it really wasn’t that good. They used two qoutes and shoved him into a small two-column article. And I understand he doesn’t like to give interviews and I respect that, but I figured I’d at least give it a try.”

And then she did something I didn’t expect; she told me to e-mail her again and she would see what she could do. She admitted that they were very busy with the tour and it could be the beginning of May before I heard back from her, but she would be glad to try.

At that point, Lou Reed and his very exuberant and energetic drummer (he either splintered or shattered a stick on almost every song. I later discovered he had a bagful next to his kit and he would often replace a stick mid-song) exited the Norva and made their way toward the single file line his manager had requested us to get into. People asked for autographs, posed for pictures (Reed would wrap his arm around the person, but never allow any part of his body to actually touch them), and even allowed for re-shoots, telling one person, “C’mon, it’s a digital camera. You can see what it looks like.”

Slowly, but surely, he made his way to me. I held my copy of Metal Machine Music up and as he began to sign it, I thanked him for the show, and completely surprised myself: I shook his hand and asked a question without a nervous shake or stutter. His handshake was very light and lasted only a brief second. My question was: “Was Metal Machine Music in any way influenced by the 20^th century Modern music composers, like John Cage or Penderecki?”

His response was brief and spoken in a very low, hushed voice (think a more gruff Andy Warhol): “Sure, of course.”

And with that, he went on to the next person.