I’m in my porno loft right now, getting ready for Katie Thomas to show up for her black dicking, and I’ve got channel 913 dialed in on my cable TV. It’s the “classic” rock channel, featuring the “original architects of rock and roll.”

It’s embarrassing to admit this is the music I listen to most lately while I’m working at the loft. Want an example? Right before Reed’s brilliant piece of genius I had to endure Ted Nugent’s “Stranglehold”, but hey, “A Walk on the Wild Side” makes it all worth it.

So does ELO.

That’s right — The Motherfucking Electric Light Orchestra.

But this is about Lou Reed, who is, without a doubt, one of the most important American musicians — living or not — and his song.

Oh, that bass line!

Oh, the story Reed tells with his lyrics!

Remember — I’m saying it’s the coolest song ever written…not the best.

One of my earliest memories about popular music centers around “A Walk On The Wild Side”. I think I was 8 or 9, which is about the same time this song first hit the radio, and I was playing baseball at this kid’s house. I don’t even remember what his name was, but I know he had an older brother named “Steve”, cause as we were playing ball Steve was singing the chorus, over and over

And the colored girls go
Do, do do, Do do,
Do, do, do Do do…

when Steve’s mother suddenly appeared out of nowhere, and she screamed at him, cause she didn’t like the part about the colored girls, and for the same reason you’ve got weird memories of your childhood that seem to stick with you forever, so do I.

And this is one of them.

With this song, which will stick with me forever, too.

I’m not a big fan of the video, but hey, they gave it their best shot, and that’s saying something…

I’m a geek boy when it comes to shit issued in a limited edition. Always have been. Anything, almost, with the exception of Hummel plates, coins and stamps, and anything sports related…all of which I loathe in unfathomable ways.

Books and records? When I see a book or record printed in a limited edition, I’m like a monkey at the zoo, beating my bright red wiener for all to see.

I picked up a Rolling Stone last month and read David Fricke’s take on Your 33 Black Angels. I’m not a huge David Frick fan, but I’m a huge VU fan, and yes, even a bigger fan of all things Limited Edition, so when I read the record was printed in a numbered vinyl-only edition of 250, I immediately got myself over to y33ba’s myspace to see if I could scoop up a few.

David Fricke said he got copy #19.

I got copies #244, #180, and another copy, the number I know not, cause I gave it to my little bro for his collection.

I squealed like a little girl, too, when I saw one of my 3 copies had a completely different color scheme on it than the other two. It’s #244, which means they were probably getting a little nutty with the silk screen inks at the end of their print run.

And now you can’t get any copies of the vinyl, cause it’s sold out, but if you go to their myspace, you can pick up a CD, which is a good thing, cause you don’t listen to records anymore, anyways.

But none of that really matters if the music doesn’t matter, right?

Fricke mentions The Strokes and Pavement. Others say Lou Reed and The Velvets. Sometimes I think I hear Dinosaur Jr.

But I’m still on side one, but going into listen #3, and while I ain’t no music critic, I know what I like, and I’m really into Lonely Street a whole bunch.

Which means you’ll probably hate them; which means I’m coming off like a snob; which means you’ll just have to go to their site and pick up a copy and see for yourself.

Then, after you’re as convinced as I am about y33ba, you’ll tell everyone you know about them, and you’ll brag about discovering them first, and someday you’ll brag about seeing them in some small club before they got huge, which is, of course, all the right things to do whenever it comes to being a complete and utter snob about music.