I don't really think Anthony DeCurtis needed 534 pages to tell me Lou Reed was an asshole. What he could have done with that much space is breathe more life into Reed as a person. For me, all biographies of musicians are held to the "Guralnick Test:" Is it as good, thorough, yet still readable, as Peter Guralnick's two-volume Elvis Presley biography? For this book, the answer is no.
I was very worried when there was a line in the introduction that read: "An artist of incalculable significance, Lou was also, as one of his song titles put it, the ultimate 'NYC Man,' as inextricable a part of the city as, say, the Twin Towers. Now he and they are gone and the city still stands, however much diminished." Good Lord, this wasn't going to be one of those books, was it? (Terrible flashbacks of Nick Tosches' hipper-than-thou Dean Martin bio ran through my head.) Thankfully, DeCurtis calms down after that, and gives a serviceable, if somewhat dull, retelling of Reed's life and art. It's not a bad book, but it does occasionally bog down in minutiae while still failing to give a full look at its subject.
Now, for my nitpicking: I made it halfway through the book, and reached a chapter that talked about Reed's attempts (influenced by then wife/manager Sylvia?) to attract a more mainstream, MTV generation audience. He made music videos, did those "sellout" Honda scooter ads (using "Walk on the Wild Side," no less), etc. And here DeCurtis let me down. There is not one word about the 1983 movie "Get Crazy," starring a bleached blond, codpiece wearing Malcolm McDowell as a rock star, and featuring a key subplot about a reclusive rock legend named Auden, played by none other than our hero Lou Reed. I realize this is a blip in his career, but not only does it go toward further emphasizing the point the chapter is making, it just happens to be the first time *I* remember Lou Reed registering on my radar, aside from probably hearing "Walk on the Wild Side" on my local AOR radio station. I saw "Get Crazy" at the drive-in, and make no mistake, it's a TERRIBLE movie, but when it aired on HBO, I held a tape recorder up to the TV to catch Reed singing his song about his baby sister. I was fascinated. So yeah, it sucks that it didn't even get a paragraph here.
Time will tell how Reed is remembered. I wish he'd had a more captivating biographer to burnish his legacy.