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Mark Berman's avatar

I had the privilege of seeing Lou a couple of times and one of these was at Kingswood Music Theatre, an amphitheater at Canada's Wonderland north of Toronto in August 1989 when he was touring in support of New York. An absolute highlight of this show was Last Great American Whale with the whale's cry coming from a drum stick dragged across a cymbal. Haunting and brilliant.

Alex O'Brien's avatar

Wow, that sounds really cool - it must have been amazing with the whale cry! I live near Parry Sound since 1994 so I pass by Canada's Wonderland often on my way to Toronto. I've been there a few times, but I've never seen a show.

Gene Madoc's avatar

I love ‘Berlin’, one of my favourite albums and definitely feels literary to me. Will have to check this one out, thanks for the recommendation

Alex O'Brien's avatar

Yes, I agree. Berlin might well be Lou's most literary album, and one of his best. I need to give that one a listen. I don't have it on vinyl but I'll check it out on Spotify for now. Thank you.

Carl Schell's avatar

Literary feel and play like a novel? Any concept album in the overarching heavy metal genre, more specifically with prog, thrash and power.

Alex O'Brien's avatar

Yes, Queensrÿche, Dream Theater, and Mastodon all feel and play that way, as do others in the genre.

Carl Schell's avatar

Towers Of Gold by Sacred Outcry. Great, relatively recent example.

Alex O'Brien's avatar

Thanks, Carl! I'll give that a listen hopefully this weekend!

Adrião Pereira da Cunha's avatar

Lou Reed’s New York is not just an album, but a lived chronicle sung in raw cadence.

Its stripped soundscape lets words breathe, each lyric carrying the weight of witness.

The songs tumble like street sermons, half slang, half poetry, alive with urgency.

Reed’s voice becomes a lantern in the city’s shadows, illuminating injustice and fragile hope.

Dirty Blvd. distils rage into fable, while Romeo Had Juliette pulses with gritty romance.

Endless Cycle mourns violence inherited, a wound echoing through generations with stark tenderness.

This work reclaims Reed’s place as a writer of conscience, not merely a cult survivor.

Minimal riffs become scaffolding for truth, refusing polish, insisting on dignity in grit.

The album humanises New York itself, a city of wounds and resilience, sung as literature.

Ultimately, it reminds us that music can be testimony, carrying the soul of a novel.