All I ever wanted was a window in a room where any voice could reach me. Where I could take notes and diagnose the night. Where I could finally get some sleep without disturbance. Where I could wait for you to arrive.

Lou Reed – Cycle Annie

Before Lou Reed became known for songs that declared heroin was his life and his wife, or a double album of feedback that sounds like seagulls dying in a casino (I happen to love the album, btw), he dabbled in pop music, recording first with a vocal group, then solo, then as a songwriter and artist at Pickwick.

Pickwick released a lot of cheap knock-offs where the goal was to emulate popular artists and music trends of the day.

Reed can be heard singing and playing on a few Pickwick releases that he wrote, or co-wrote, including this, Cycle Annie:

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The La’s

Every once in a while, I remember I was going to make this blog about music.

So in that spirit, let’s talk The La’s.

Formed in the early ’80s, the band knocked about for a year or so until Lee Mavers joined the lineup.

Mavers would go on to be the de facto leader and principal songwriter for the group.

He also essentially was the undoing of the group.

By 1987, the band had issued its first single, Way Out, a single that garnered some praise from the press and Morrissey, but it barely charted.

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One day, i will stop this. I will give my health to charity. I will return every gaze i was accidentally given because i looked familiar. I will find an epitaph that fits me. And i will not move around so much. Until then, i will continue doing what i have always done. I will write prayers for those who do not know they need them. I will write prayers for those who yearn to be adored.


i sing

for the dreamers

who never once

closed their eyes

and for

all the lovers

who have no use

for disguise

for those

who became legends

without so much

as goodbye

for all of

the saviors

who never once

called in favors

and for those

who are strangers

in spite of the dangers

of being unknown

for so long

you all

have a place

in my song.


in a climate of hunters we became prey. out in the headlights we lost our way. did you not see the signs. did you see the threshold. once we were crossed, we forgot we were bold. time was much louder then. as were we. could nothing restore what we meant to be. no escape. no remorse for our public display. living. working. dreaming. the hunters are on their way.