Review Summary: The guy who spent years doing blow off the backs of hookers and a vast array of trannies with fellow nutcase Andy Warhol should not be criticized anymore for poor decision making. It would be like backhanding a retard for not scoring a 1600 on their SATs
It’s an abomination, a trepidation, a correlation to devastation, fornication, and polarization. “Lulu" is easily one of the worst albums ever conceived; anyone who doesn’t suffer from Downs or wasn’t fed a steady diet of rock cocaine by their disheveled crack whore of a mother in the womb can figure that out within a matter of seconds. To say “Lulu” is a colossal failure is akin to saying early 90’s Courtney Love was an unredeemable scourge of heroin mainlining slut-dom, the sky is blue sometimes, Big Bird was a character on Sesame Street, and Ron Jeremy liked to hang out and screw hot chicks. It’s not an argument, and it’s not even close to one. “Lulu’s” conception is in alignment with the decision making prowess of Hitler trying to invade Russia, Coca-Cola abandoning their formula in the mid 80’s, and the green-lighting of the atrociously hilarious Affleck/Lopez vehicle “Gigli,” a “film” so reprehensibly insidious and pants-sh/ttingly awful anyone who watches it would probably prefer hanging out with The Gimp from Pulp Fiction while Marcelus Wallace goes medieval on your ass (from a pop culture perspective, “Lulu” is actually worse). Some things are merely universal truths, and “Lulu’s” undeniable suckage cannot be debated like the fact San Francisco sells more strap-ons and KY jelly than any other city in the world cannot be argued by any sensible human being. The only question is why would anybody be surprised by this?
Lou Reed wrote a 9 minute ode to his crippling heroin addiction over 40 years ago. I’m not a doctor, but it’s pretty safe to say his brain hasn’t suddenly recovered from the miles of drugs he tunneled in the sixties with advancing age. When we account for the mere existence of “Metal Machine Music,” widely regarded as the worst album in the history of music (maybe, until now), we shouldn’t be aghast or even remotely shocked that Lou Reed would put his stamp on something as ass-reamingly insidious as Lulu. The guy who spent years doing blow off the backs of hookers and a vast array of trannies with fellow nutcase Andy Warhol should not be criticized anymore for poor decision making. It would be like backhanding a retard for not scoring a 1600 on their SAT’s. Lou Reed has been gone for a long time, and it would take a special kind of desperate soul to A. not recognize this, and B. decide to drive the last nail in the coffin of a once legendary career, furthering the absolute avalanche of horrendously sh/tty decision making over the last decade-plus. That man is none other than James Hetfield.
To me it’s blatantly obvious that Metallica decided to perform on “Lulu” because they finally realized what everybody already knew; that Metallica is absolutely dead. “Death Magnetic” was like a once mighty but now dying cancer patient summoning one final beastly breath before collapsing under a death most likely fashioned by their own decision making. Anyone with critical thinking ability above Pee-Wee Herman’s before he decided to jack off in a red-light movie district knows that aside from “Death Magnetic,” Metallica hasn’t made a good decision since 1998. Add in the fact that the once titanic Hetfield is now on some type of spiritual “quest,” it’s easy to see how he could get sucked into the alluring and tempting notion of creating avant-garde “art.” If there’s one thing about avant-garde “artists,” aside from the fact the majority of their works would be wildly defeated by the finger painting of any autistic 2nd grader, is that they suffer from grandiose levels of self-importance. The documentary “Some Kind of Monster,” from 2003, complete with a sweater-vest wearing tree-hugging therapist convincing James to accept his inner-child and feminine side proved that Metallica has been searching for something they absolutely cannot and should not even attempt to grasp for a long time. There’s a reason James hummed “keep searchinnnnnnnnnnnnnng, keep on searchingggggggg-AH” right before the FRANTIC TICK TICK TICK TICK TICK TOCK on “St. Anger;” it was a cry for help.
It’s clear that both Reed and Metallica are way beyond the stage where relevant, advanced psychotherapy would benefit them, and “Lulu” is the bloody-glove piece of evidence cementing the synapses in their respective brains that control decision making processes have long been eroded. Listen to any 45 second clip of “Lulu” and you will see why it is entirely pointless to identify any songs in a music review, it would be like pointing out examples on why someone who has just undergone a frontal lobotomy is no longer capable of advanced intelligence. If their legacy’s had not already been entirely destroyed a long damn time ago, “Lulu” would be devastating at worst, and sad as the most likely scenario. Within the context of where these men are in their lives, it’s merely hilarious, and that will be the only redeeming factor to arise from this project. If nothing else, “Lulu” is the greatest piece of unintentional comedy in the history of music. So at least they’ve got that going for them.