So , when I first got wind of the news that [lastfm link_type="artist_info"]Lou Reed[/lastfm] and [lastfm link_type="artist_info"]Metallica[/lastfm] were collaborating on an album together, I thought to myself, “Cool! This COULD be good and at the very least, I am highly intrigued by the thought if it.”
Very interesting indeed.
When I was asked to review it, I said, “Hell yeah!,” and please imagine to yourself the look of giddy enthusiasm draped on my face when with clenched fists and Christmas morning-like excitement, I shouted out “Yes!”
Metallica is one of those bands I claim as “my band.” Clearly, I am aware that they are everyone’s band, but you know that when you truly love a band so much and you swear by them, at one point or another you claim complete ownership of them and you refer to them as “my band.” Everybody has that band.
It was then time to for me to listen to the collaborative offerings of legendary Lou Reed and equally as reputable Metallica. The album is called Lulu. I sat in my living room and got all kinds of comfortable, sat back on my delicious couch, lit a candle, lit my brain, and I pressed play.
The next sentence falls under the category of “I sh*t you not.” Two painful, confused, and horrified minutes into Lulu and I felt like I was strapped down in an electric chair, praying that some merciful prison guard would just flip the switch and end my slow burning misery.
After listening to what I could, my first thought was that I would like nothing more than to sit each of the members of this project down and with a harsh maternal finger pointed at them , I want to yell and say, “Oh you stop it! You stop it right this instant!” “Dude, no. No, no, no.”
My second thought was that, after being exposed to this instrumental pissing contest, I would like nothing more than to kick them all in the nuts and THEN have them write an album. Maybe then they would write an album from their balls as opposed to one from their egos.
This album is a headache. It is a God awful migraine and believe you me, nothing pains me more than having to say that.
Not only did it give me a tremendous amount of anxiety, but it scared me. I wanted to huddle up in a corner and cry for my mommy. Now, in all fairness, maybe the scared part had something to do with the fact that I had American Horror Story playing in the background. Watching that AND listening to Lulu at the same time could torture someone into a state of wetting themselves.