Review Summary: 1974 In A Nutshell
1974 was a terrible year for rock music. The heroes of the late 60s were disbanded, had grown tired or partied themselves to the grave. Psychedelic rock was done, punk and metal weren't quite there yet and the big names of this time mostly didn't release anything that year, which left us with a bunch of watered down glamrock hacks, who are rightfully forgotten today. Really, do not belive any Boomer who tries to tell you that the 70s were a musically perfect decade where everything was as substantial as Bowie and The Clash. They just forgot about all the bad stuff.
With that in mind, 1974 should have been Lou Reed's year, since he influenced glamrock more than anyone. With a good producer, able to hit sweet spot of Lou's edginess and his accessibility, musicians on the same artistic page and a handful of catchy tuned about misfits and weirdos, he could have ruled the decade. He did not do any of that.
If Lou Reed's career is defined by anything, it is a baffling and erratic chaos. Think about it: His okayish debut were some Velvet Underground leftovers, with „Transformer“ he had the deserved breakthrough, only to throw his commercial momentum out of the window on „Berlin“, an ambitous but radio unfriendly concept album. The bad reception of this record obviously got to Reed's head. As New York's grumpiest citizen himself said: "It seems like the less I'm involved with a record, the bigger a hit it becomes. If I weren't on the record at all next time around, it might go to Number One." He wanted a hit album, at all costs. So Reed basically gave all creative control to some producer and sold out. Yes, I know, the term „Sell Out“ is a terribly overused cliché, but Jesus Christ, does it fit here. „Sally Can't Dance“ is an album that fits shockingly well into the boring but needlesly overproduced 70s schlock I mentioned in the first paragraph.
It doesn't help that the quality of the songs ranges from wasted potential to forgetable and terrible. The lonely highlight in the first category is „Kill Your Sons“, a deeply personal tune about Reed's experiences with shock therapy in his youth. Thank god, the production doesn't sugarcode the horrifying lyrics and the uneasy, almost post-rockish vibe fits very well. It's almost painfully obvious that Reed cared about this song the most, because it doesn't fit in with the rest at all.
„Animal Language“ on the other hand...well imagine Reed making animal noises over an incredibly generic glamrock instrumental without being able to switch off the sarcasm in his voice, giving it a tone of „Usually I hate music like this, but I don't care anymore“. Tracks like this make it seem absolutely laughable that Reed is taking shots at his imitators on „N.Y. Allstars“, while clearly trying to sound like them on the rest of the album.
The remaining songs are not even worth talking about, you'll forget them once they are over. With one exception:
After all these mediocrities, the closing „Billy“ strips back the glossy production and gives room to Reed's storytelling. This tale of a schoolmate choosing a very different path in life than him, could have been worth the wait, until someone ruins it halfway with a cheesy as hell saxophone solo.
Credit where it's due, Reed reached his goal of creating his most succesful album, but oh boy, that came with a prize: The success was short lived, critics hated it and Reed's record label basically forced him to deliver a quick follow up. Reed stuck to his habit of making no sense and gave them an hour of tuneless guitar noise as an ultimate „*** you“.
Yes, some of his previous records like „Transformer“ or „Loaded“ were already way more accessible and less noisy or avantgarde than his early Velvet Underground albums. The key difference to „Sally Can't Dance“ is that these albums felt like something only Lou Reed could have made. Also they had a soul. „Sally Can't Dance“ is for Lou Reed historians only. And those who want a perfect example of how terrible 1974 was.
