[Berlin] is the most disgustingly brilliant record of the year. There has always been a literary instinct behind Lou's best writing—classics like "Sweet Jane" were four minute short stories with recognizable characters acting out their roles, manipulated for Lou's amusement in a way he certainly considers Warholian. In Berlin, his first feature length presentation, the silhouettes have been filled in till they're living, breathing monsters.

A concept album with no hit singles, but shy of the "rock opera" kiss of death, Lou refers to it as a film. So I guess it's his attempt … at Warhol Trash….

What it really reminds me of, though, is the bastard progeny of a drunken flaccid tumble between Tennessee Williams and Hubert (Last Exit From Brooklyn) Selby, Jr. It brings all of Lou's perennial themes—emasculation, sadistic misogyny, drug erosion, twisted emotionalism of numb detachment from "normal" emotions—to pinnacle.

It...