The Death of an Icon

Interesting term that, icon.  Ancient religious roots.  Full of power.  And mystery.  Maybe icon isn't used with the same depth it once had. Icon of Rock n'Roll.  Icon of Punk.  Icon of the underground.   We've come to use the word as a synonym for a person who embodies a concept.  What is that in comparison to a Saint who has come to embody the Limitless Love of the Creator?

Lou Reed is an icon of rock.  Lou Reed is an icon of punk. Lou Reed is an icon of the Underground.  We look at those old pictures of him in tight jeans, a black t-shirt, a leather jacket and shades and think "man, that's rock n' roll."  And maybe that means music and clubs and girls and drugs.  And maybe that means some halcyon age when rock n' roll was pure. 

But the ancient meaning remains.  We put his picture on the wall.  We put some musician's poster on our wall, anyway.  And we feel something more than just music.  We feel a better way to live. Their images remind us of a better place than the one we're living in.  And that's what an icon was always supposed to do.  Icons help us.  They intercede on our behalf.  They offer to help us find that better place. At least they make it seem possible.

I didn't know Lou Reed, but I'll miss him. I'll see his picture, as I have seen it many times in the last few days, and I'll miss him.  I feel as I imagine the plaintive feel when they turn to their icons: the world feels an emptier place for the absence of the person represented there, but, too, their image carries the hope of a better place.

When I think of Lou Reed, I'll think of Berlin and New York - the places more than the albums - he embodied those two cities for me through his music, through a few snippets of film.  I'll think of transvestites.  I'll think of the front row of some outdoor arena on the outskirts of Rome and a little smile from the man himself when I laughed at "two whores sucked his nipples while he came on their feet." I'll think of the roar of a thousand Italians when he struck the first chord of Dirty Boulevard.  And I'll think of Baton Rouge...and of sixteen and a crisp, green football field. 

I was sixteen when I bought my first Lou Reed record.  I bought it in the spring, on a whim.  Long before I heard - or heard of - the Velvet Underground, I listened to that record.  It played on a loop through the summer.  I fell in love while that record played. 

So I see an image of Lou Reed and I think of Love and Perfection and the possibilities of limitless happiness.  He was an Icon.  He is an icon.

God bless Lou.