Halloween Parade

Hey Zoo Freaks, it's your cosmic crew here at THE ZOO, spinning some autumn vibes as the leaves crunch underfoot and the veil thins just a bit. We're dropping Lou Reed's "Halloween Parade" from that gritty masterpiece New York, and man, does it hit different this time of year. Picture this: it's 1989, the AIDS crisis is ripping through Greenwich Village like a shadow you can't outrun, and Lou's out there chronicling it all with his deadpan poetry. In a live intro from that era, he straight-up says, "This next song is about a parade we have in Greenwich Village in NY, where a lot of people are dying of AIDS. So this is a song about AIDS called 'Halloween Parade.'" It's not just a tune; it's a roll call for the ghosts—Johnny Rio, Rotten Rita, Virgin Mary—folks who'd strut Christopher Street in capes and crowns, now vanished into the night. Fans on the old forums still whisper it's Lou's quiet elegy for his trans partner Rachel too, that downtown fairy belting "Proud Mary" under the jack-o'-lantern glow. And get this: in 2023, they made him the posthumous grand marshal of the Village's 50th Halloween bash, blasting the track as the procession snaked through the streets. Reed's liner notes call it a memorial for the vanquished, and yeah, it stings sweet—like honey on a razor blade.

Zoom out to the man himself, Zoo Freaks, because Lou Reed didn't just stumble into this bard-of-the-backstreets gig; he carved it out like a pumpkin on a full moon night. Born Lewis Allan Reed in '42 on Long Island, he was that awkward kid strumming doo-wop in high school garages, dreaming bigger than the suburbs could hold. High school shades like The Shades cut a single that Alan Freed spun once—"So Blue," netting our boy 78 cents in royalties, ha! But the real spark? Syracuse University in the early '60s, where poet Delmore Schwartz cracked open his skull with words, showing him how simple lines could summon storms. Lou's jamming at the Orange Grove bar with Garland Jeffreys, soaking up Dylan and blues, even dipping into the needle scene that'd haunt him later. Graduates with honors in English, but instead of suits, he bolts to NYC for a gig ghostwriting pop fluff at Pickwick Records—think knockoff hits for one-hit wonders. That's where fate winks: faking a band called The Primitives to hawk "The Ostrich" dance craze, he crosses paths with John Cale, that Welsh wizard of viola and drones. Boom—Velvet Underground ignites in '65, with Sterling Morrison on guitar and Moe Tucker pounding those tom-toms like a heartbeat from the underground. Andy Warhol scoops 'em up for his Factory freak show, slapping Nico on top for that banana-album debut. They weren't selling out stadiums, but every kid who heard 'em started a band—punk, glam, all of it owes Lou a debt. Post-VU in '70, he crashes back home, types tax forms for pops to pay the bills, but the wild side calls. Signs with RCA, bangs out that self-titled solo debut in London with Yes cats like Steve Howe, then Transformer in '72—Bowie producing, "Walk on the Wild Side" slinking into the charts like a cat in heat. From there, it's a whirlwind: Berlin's doomed lovers, Metal Machine Music's noise apocalypse, up to New York's street sermons. Lou was the guy who'd shock you straight, chasing truth through the haze, always that shy Long Island poet under the leather and shades.

If you're feeling the pull, Zoo Freaks, dive deeper at the official Lou Reed site—it's a treasure trove of archives, from Pickwick demos to tai chi musings. Swing by the Facebook page for fan-shared gems and rare clips that keep the spirit spinning. No official Instagram these days, but the Velvet Underground & Their Friends group on Facebook is a groovy hub for kindred souls swapping stories and vinyl hauls. For collectors' vibes, check the Lou Reed Collectors' Group, or if you're francophone and fancy, On The Wild Side dives into the French fan scene. And don't sleep on the wild side fan spot at Fanpop's Lou Reed club—photos, vids, and polls that'll have you debating Transformer vs. New York till dawn. Crank it up, light a candle, and let's wander those wild streets together tonight.