Berlin (1973) Lou Reed

Written by Meenakshi Nirmalan

I first listened to Berlin in my final year of school. I don’t remember when specifically, nor where but I suspect it was around Easter. My memory surrounding this is hazy. Despite this, I was absolutely gripped by the album’s contents after listening to it; Berlin occupied my mind for weeks. The concept album follows the story of a fictional couple, Jim and Caroline, living in Berlin. The listener experiences the couple’s tumultuous relationship. Berlin is a tale of dysfunction, destruction and eventually, Caroline’s death. Reed had never been to Berlin, but loved the idea of a city torn in two, into east and west; he loved the idea of a city that cannot operate as a homogenous unit, a city divided into two halves that do not see eye to eye and that are fundamentally incompatible.  The characters originated from a song also called Berlin from Lou Reed’s first solo album - his self-titled, released in 1972 - where the city became a metaphor for their relationship. He developed Jim and Caroline’s story, releasing Berlin a year later because his producer, Bob Erzin, was curious about the next chapter in the tale that Reed created through his lyrics. 

The aforementioned song from his self-titled was reworked, to form the intro track to this album. I listened to both versions of the song Berlin back to back. They have a very different feel, despite the lyrics being mostly the same. The 1972 version (from the album Lou Reed) starts off with a soft, calming piano intro. We hear brushes on the snare, which then turns into a steady beat, played with sticks. In between Reed’s vocals, we hear a guitar duet, with piano, bass and drums in the background; the piano plays a countermelody, adding texture and colour to the soundscape. The initial version of Berlin is longer, with more lyrics. Moreover, Reed’s repetition of “one sweet day”, ends the song on a hopeful note. The 1973 version (from the album Berlin) is very different. It feels sultry and glamorous, albeit laced with danger. This version is stripped back. It’s purely vocals and keys, the sort of thing you’d hear played at a lounge bar. This track is also shorter and moreover, we hear a sample of a voice counting “Eins, Zwei, Drei…Zugabe!”, creating anticipation. This is followed by Happy Birthday being sung to Caroline, the wife in the fictional marriage, starting the album on a seemingly positive note. After this ends, Reed comes in, in his classic speak-sing manner. The left hand of the piano plays steady chords, whereas the right plays a melody, accompanying Reed’s vocals. The track ends with a stunning, albeit uncomplicated piano solo, played for around a minute. Berlin sounds mysterious, akin to a film noir soundtrack. I have always found this track absolutely gripping and think it’s the perfect way to start off the album.

Even though Berlin’s narrative is dark, the first half of the album has a more upbeat and lighthearted sound. The album frequently has been referred to as a tragic rock opera, and we hear this reflected in the album’s first half; it has a melodramatic quality to it. For example, in Caroline Says I, Reed sings “Caroline says that I’m just a toy / She wants a man, not just a boy”. Problems in the couple’s relationship are playfully hinted at but never overtly addressed. This is also evident in other songs. Oh Jim is one of many songs in the album’s first half that feel like parodies of musical theatre numbers. The first half of Oh Jim is from Jim’s perspective and the second half is from Caroline’s. The song starts off with a triplet groove played on the toms; we also hear a faint murmuring of bass that gels the sound together. This crescendos until Reed’s vocals come in and the drums transition to a steady rock beat. At this point, we also hear brass instruments punctuating and underscoring the vocals. The first half of Oh Jim is big, bold and showy; it has an energetic and feel-good vibe, purely focusing on its soundscape, which feels odd, considering Reed is singing lyrics such as “filled up to here with hate / Beat her black and blue and get it straight”. However, the listener doesn’t question this fully, until later on in the song. Unless the listener actively pays attention to the lyrics, most of the shock is taken out, because of the upbeat soundscape. At just over 2 minutes into Oh Jim, we hear a steady bass, frequent hits of the snare drum and a guitar riff, evolving into a guitar solo with brass backing. This lasts a minute and then eventually, is stripped back. The sole sound we hear is a guitar strum and at this point, the song feels dark and solemn. Reed’s vocals come in, singing from Caroline’s perspective: “Oh Jim / How could you treat me this way?”. At this point, the song is completely unembellished, as just guitar and vocals. Personally, I would mark this moment as the defining moment in the entirety of Berlin. The melodrama ends completely, replaced by an air that can only be described  as grave and sobering.

The album performed poorly in comparison to Lou Reed’s other material. I can understand why, as it’s not the sort of album I could listen to for enjoyment, particularly its second half. Not because it’s musically bad but because it’s intentionally uncomfortable to listen to. I’ve listened to the first half of the album way more than I have listened to the second. The following track, Caroline Says II is interesting as it’s a rewrite of The Velvet Underground’s Stephanie Says, although the latter was only officially released after. In Caroline Says II, he sings “all her friends call her ‘Alaska’ / when she takes speed, they laugh and ask her”. The lyrics are much darker than those of Stephanie Says: “the people all call her ‘Alaska’ / Between worlds, so the people ask her”, keeping in line with Berlin’s themes. The last few songs are a lot slower in tempo, giving them a certain gravity. The Kids features samples of actual kids screaming for their mother, accompanied by a discordant woodwind sound. I usually struggle to make it to the end of the track; it’s not exactly for casual listening. Similarly, The Bed is a reflective song, where Jim notes how the bedroom held happy memories but also is Caroline’s place of death. Numerous disparate stories live within the same physical space. This track ends with a sound collage of eerie choral noises and synths, chilling the listener. Berlin is a haunting album, which evokes many conflicting feelings within me; it’s interesting that its critical reception was also divisive. Everything about Berlin reflects this discord: from the two unofficial ‘halves’ of the album, from the two characters in the failing relationship, to the city divided in two for almost 3 decades.