LOU REED Berlin (RCA)

“One of the things I’ve always wanted to do,” said Lou Reed when I interviewed him for CREEM last spring, “was introduce people to certain other people they wouldn’t normally meet, or if they did meet ’em would wanna get very safely away. People you’d hate to get trapped at a party with.”

In Berlin, Lou has finally realised his ambitions totally: this is the most disgustingly brilliant record of the year. There has always been a literary instinct behind Lou’s best writing — classics like “Sweet Jane” were four minute short stories with recognizable characters acting out their roles, manipulated for Lou’s amusement in a way he certainly considers Warholian. In Berlin, his first feature length presentation, the silhouettes have been filled in till they’re living, breathing monsters,

A concept album with no hit singles, but shy of the “rock opera” kiss of death, Lou refers to it as a film. So I guess it’s his attempt (in collaboration with meisterproducer Bob Ezrin) at Warhol Trash, and he acts his way through it, talking as much as he sings, while Ezrin’s settings are often reminiscent of classically-derived movie music.