Taí um jeito de encarar o disco do Metallica com o Lou Reed:

It might be a successful simulation of how it feels to develop schizophrenia while suffering from a migraine, although slightly less melodic.

Yet there’s still something vital about Lulu that needs to be remembered, even as you rip it off MediaFire and immediately forget the name of every single track: This was the dream. If considered in a vacuum, this absurd collaboration that no one wants to take seriously (or even play more than once) is the ultimate manifestation of what was once viewed as the idealized, unattainable goal of mainstream art. Just by existing, Lulu represents at least four things:

1. Two historically significant artists merging unrelated genres for no defined reason.
2. Adult, self-aware musicians following their own creative vision, devoid of commercial pressure or responsibility.
3. An attempt to produce something authentically different from anything we’ve ever heard before, motivated only by a desire to see what would happen.
4. A confident, unvarnished attempt at taking arcane high art (Lulu is based on theatrical German expressionism from the early 20th century) and repackaging it for denim-clad teenagers huffing gas in Arizona parking lots.

If you think about Lulu within those specific parameters, it seems admirable. It almost feels important. But those thoughts are annihilated by the inevitable experience of actually hearing it. If these cagey tunesmiths had consciously tried to make a record this simultaneously dull and comedic, they’d never have succeeded; the closest artistic equivalent would be what might have happened if Vincent Gallo had been a script consultant for The Room. To be fair, the end of the album does have one song that’s mildly OK — a dreamy, unaggressive, 20-minute exploration titled “Junior Dad” that will probably resonate with Damien Echols. There’s also a track called “The View” that’s pretty mind-expanding if you pretend the lyrics are literally about watching The View. But the rest of Lulu is as appalling as logic demands. If the Red Hot Chili Peppers acoustically covered the 12 worst Primus songs for Starbucks, it would still be (slightly) better than this. “Loutallica” makes SuperHeavy seem like Big Star. But this is what happens in a free society. Enjoy your freedom, slaves.

Chuck Klosterman manda muito bem…

Tags: lou reed, metallica, que porra eh essa, simpsons