‘I Love You’: The most underrated song of Lou Reed’s career
In the broader hysteria of legacy rock, Lou Reed stands as a distinctive entity. While his impact cannot be understated, much of his work feels like it belongs to a different world—waiting to be discovered through active engagement, separate from the mainstream sounds that cross our paths daily. This perception may stem from how his music exists on the fringes, but ultimately, it leaves much of his discography feeling criminally overlooked.
For this reason, even some of his most popular songs feel like they no longer get the attention they should. Except for some of the more obvious ones, like ‘Walk On the Wild Side’ and ‘Perfect Day’, others, like ‘Pale Blue Eyes’, sometimes feel as though they’ve been somewhat ostracised from modern discourse, save for spaces dedicated specifically to analysing Reed’s own artistry.
But what made songs like ‘Pale Blue Eyes’ so culturally resonant in the first place was how they became so heavily engrained, even in spaces when Reed or The Velvet Underground’s presence cannot be detected on the surface. Even in communities or projects where Reed’s name might not even be uttered, his artistry stands as a seminal influence, schooling countless creatives in the art of intimacy and artistic whimsy.
Two years after leaving The Velvet Underground, Reed released his self-titled solo debut, which, despite the major anticipation of fans wanting to hear what a solo project by one of the most influential underground rock artists might sound and feel like, enjoyed minimal success. In fact, Lou Reed was a massive commercial disappointment, raising questions about why such a revered and culturally defining artist suddenly had no flair.
However, according to Reed, it wasn’t the musical concepts that let him down; it was the production, which is often the case when musicians feel excited and proud about their records but are let down by anti-climactic reception after the fact. As he explained in 1976: “It’s got some of the best songs I ever wrote, but the production sucks.”
This is actually easy to believe, especially when revisiting the album and analysing some of its best lyrics, particularly in moments when Reed lets his more delicate side shine, like in the heartfelt ‘I Love You’. This is one of the more stripped-back aspects of the record, showcasing Reed’s effortless ability to write from the heart, even though it wasn’t something he often did in his solo work.
Given that the record itself has always been massively underappreciated, ‘I Love You’ has been subjected to the unfortunate dismissal despite its own beauty, with a gorgeous melody and guitar arrangement that carries a lot of weight even though it feels inherently floaty. In this case, we are presented with a typical case of ostracised Reed, where some of his most beautiful creations are left by the wayside, overshadowed by his more popular compositions or, worse—other artists.
But these are also the moments when Reed becomes his most authentic. After all, it’s easy to dissect songs like ‘Coney Island Baby’ and comment on his witty cynicism, but it’s arguably more interesting to look at songs like ‘I Love You’ to understand how his mind truly worked and how his heart swelled in an industry and circumstance when such feelings were quashed by external forces and his own state of mind.
In the song, we learn that Reed is driven by his love for someone else, and it slows him down and keeps him grounded despite the chaos that surrounds: “When I think of all the things I’ve done / And I know that it’s only just begun / Those Smiling Faces, you know I just can’t forget ’em / But I love you,” he sings, highlighting the simplicity of how someone’s smile can be enough to keep you going through the struggle.
Reed was always a master of lyrics that felt simultaneously direct and brimming with layered meaning, but this feels different, especially considering how, often, his words feel like manifestations of a scorned heart (“Sometimes I feel so happy / Sometimes I feel so sad”). But with ‘I Love You’, we get a pure version of Reed where everything is as it seems: straightforward yet spacious, authentic yet vulnerable.
