Lou Reed 15: Legendary Hearts

Having apparently remembered less is more, Lou kept to mostly the same formula on Legendary Hearts, but with two key changes. Fred Maher joined on drums, and would go on to anchor several of Lou’s better albums going forward. Also, while Robert Quine is credited on guitar, he would go to his grave insisting that much of his lead work was minimized out of spite, jealousy, or some unforgivable indiscretion. Whatever the truth, the album is missing an edge, forcing us (once again) to focus on the auteur’s words, vocals, and melodies, mostly concerned with sobriety and marital bliss.

An atmospheric wash belies the basic combo backing on the title track, a strong meditation at the wonder of the glory of love with an original view on what might have befallen Romeo. The rant “Don’t Talk To Me About Work” may be defended as a monologue in character, but it only works when one considers that Lou actually did have a few office jobs in his time. “Make Up My Mind” (spoiler alert: he can’t) wanders along, a decent set of changes seeking a better subject. Another character emerges in “Martial Law”, a mildly funky track that brings something of an ironic solution to domestic violence. “The Last Shot” refers mostly to drink, but could also be drugs or a metaphor in general. The chords, though simple and familiar, make the song memorable. (Likewise, “Bottoming Out” on the other side uses the old I-vi-ii-V change and doubles the title in terms of both drink and motorcycles.) With a simple sleepy groove, “Turn Out The Light” has a welcome change in delivery, closer to his ‘70s slur but more assured somehow.

While the main message is “I wanna dance with you,” “Powwow” is just plain strange, lyrically. Only years after he skewered racial stereotypes in “I Wanna Be Black”, what we to make of a romantic song that references fire water, teepees, arrows and scalping? “Betrayed” could use a little more development, seeming to portray a man in a relationship with a woman with severe daddy issues, unless we’re missing something really obvious. “Home Of The Brave” is long and slow, a tribute to various friends who’ve either settled down or died as he contemplates his own happy life. While it comes to a grand close, and would be a fine ending, the slight “Rooftop Garden” is seemingly tacked on to underscore the point.

At this point in an arduous career, Lou could be commended for releasing an album that wasn’t pointedly bad, and Legendary Hearts can’t be called that. It’s not as strong as The Blue Mask, but it remains one of his better unknown albums.

Lou Reed Legendary Hearts (1983)—3