this sample of bad filming is to be looked at with wonder, for it is not the bad filming that matters, but something else. the man in the center, ok, in the blurred center, the stiffer one, is lou reed. himself! he's 70, has big biceps, he's on tour (or was?) and it was great to hear him and see him (stand unbendable) from the back of the room, the best place to be at so the illusion created by his ultra reedish voice would not have to endure even the slightest doubt at seeing his new (sic!) exterior. it's not shallow, or it is, but it is only because i want to preserve him in my mind like this.
but you see the woman in the up right corner? she's called joan as policewoman, and she opened for lou reed. she must've thought of herself as quite the entertainer, cause she spoke between each song (and there were many, each like a little drop of poison), in a soft porn voice, like a housewife who works part time for some erotic hotline, her first few songs sounded like the mating sounds of some species of chicken, mumbled words were only hiding up the ineptitude of the lyrics, some of which went like this: you'll start your engines like a virgin as long as you jump the ride or don't you know i'm your woman and you are my man? or I just want your love / I want it now / I want your face inside of my mind [...] ‘Cause I don't come with a manual. / No, I lost it long ago.
yes, she has definitely lost her manual, her manual ability to slap herself off stage because she is embarrassing, yet somehow, there is always an amusing dimension to a total lack of personal sense of the ridiculous.