Wouldn't it be wonderful to go to a party and see Jay-Z in the corner talking to Damien Hirst who just finished with Lindsey Lohan in the bathroom while Ryan Adams was furious over it all talking to Cormac Mccarthy? ...Well maybe not those people, but more so wouldn't it be great if the arts still came together and fed off of each other leading to marvelous books, paintings and music? In today's world where studios, auction houses and multi-national corporations make stars such a scene is impossible, the last we saw of it in its truest form was probably Studio 54 and that's a stretch. The Waverley Inn and The Ivy just don't cut it in my mind, the fact that they have let me in at times is enough to leave a bad taste in my mouth.
But there was a time when all this was the norm, there was a time when Andy Warhol and Bob Dylan, Lou Reed and Truman Capote were all tied together in art, sexual trysts, and fueled each other with their passions. One thing that tied many of them together was Edie Sedgwick. Edie's seventh-great grandfather was the first Major General of the Massachusetts Bay Colony, other great grandfather(s) held such positions as: Signer of the Declaration of Independence, Civil War Colonel, CEO of the Southern Pacific Railroad, owners of Clipper ships and founder of Central Park in New York City. Edie continued the tradition of important American contributors with her involvement in the Pop Art movement as a regular visitor to The Factory. "Poor Little Rich Girl" and "Beauty No. 2" she's the one.
She was also one of Bob Dylan's muses until his marriage to Sara Lownds drove her insane and into the arms of his most trusted companion at the time, Bob Neuwirth. Famous for writing "Mercedes Benz" and basically being friends with Bob. Edie, with all her family background and artistic endeavors was probably best known for her erratic behavior, drug abuse and hospitalization in the psychiatric ward of Cottage Hospital. Compelled by her behavior Andy Warhol asked Lou Reed to write a song about her which eventually was titled "Femme Fatale".
While the studio version is typical studio (overproduced, lacking in emotion) on the live 1969 album Lou Reed digs down into the trenches of cool and brings up a mellow Fender sound combined his famous understated singing voice. Lou was the original heroin-chic-anti-star, there's not much else to say but Damn...that dude is so fuckin cooool.
One of these days there will be a time when music and art comes together so seamlessly, but until that time rolls around we'll just have to revert back to this album and song again and again. Maybe it'll happen when Armani, Gucci and Louis Vuitton move out of SoHo, maybe it'll just pop up somewhere else, and possibly soon now that the whole models and bottles scene has died down. I hope so, there'd be nothing better than to walk through Lower Manhattan again and feel like you don't belong, and not because you don't have a Centurion Card.
