Plagued by silence, Lou Reed's The Bed is the second to last song on my favorite album of his, Berlin, a tragic rock opera of a couple doomed by their own love, drug use, and depression.
The Bed involves Lou reminiscing of his love. There is where she laid her head when she went to sleep. There's where their children were conceived (before they were taken away by the government, documented in another track called "The Kids"). And there? There's where she cut her wrists. That odd and faithful night.
Much like Mass Production, The Bed is steeped in eerie sadness. Backed with no other instrument but Lou's guitar, he tells his story, seemingly near-dead himself. Almost quietly singing to himself, a ghostly choir frequently echoing into the room after the chorus. A past memory, haunting him over and over as his thoughts keep coming back to his lost beautiful love. Its almost too much to bear.
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