And then Lou Reed says, “I love you.” It's his way of answering a question that could, in truth, be interpreted as a vague compliment -- something about how his albums have never conformed to fad or fashion, something about how Lou Reed albums always sound like Lou Reed albums. (Guess he thinks that's a good thing. He's right.) Reed doesn't mean anything by it; only an idiot or a sycophant would read anything into those three words being spoken by a rock-star stranger. But it's just odd to hear them coming from Lou Reed, being spoken in that deadpan New York drone that survives intact even over a transatlantic phone line. I love you. Uh ... me too? His is, and has always been, a voice that reveals little emotion. Whether he's singing of “closing in on death” or being “the one who loves you in each and every way,” Reed refuses to show his hand or, for that matter, his heart. It is there, probably: His friends have always insisted that despite the granite exterior (the lips that refuse to smile, the eyes that refuse to open) Lou is a hopeless romantic. He's in love with love, enamored of the idea that one can be reborn in a new relationship; it is the theme of so much of his recent work. But Reed also is cynical enough to insist it never lasts. To him love is but a fleeting notion in which only... More >>>