Walk on the Wild Side

The story of Lou Reed's pop masterpiece made in London’s Soho. And why it matters.

Site of Trident Studios, St Anne’s Court, London

It begins with a bassline—deep, slinky, unforgettable. It slips into place like a whispered secret, opening Lou Reed’s Walk on the Wild Side with quiet confidence. Few songs have entered the public imagination so effortlessly, and fewer still with such lasting resonance. Rooted in a specific time, place and subculture, it somehow feels timeless—universal. Recorded in 1972, down a crooked alley in Soho, this unlikely anthem of outsiders was shaped not just by Reed’s words, but by a cast of British musicians and the open, collaborative spirit of Soho’s music scene.

St Anne’s Court, the alley in question, runs between Dean Street and Wardour Street. Dating from the seventeenth century, it bears a distinctive kink—a leftover boundary line from the farmland on which Soho was built. Writing in 1889, social reformer Charles Booth described it as “rough,” with “the buildings holding many casuals.” Casual employment was very much a feature of the business that occupied number 17 between 1968 and 1981 — Trident Studios. On a Monday in August 1972, it became the unlikely setting for a song that would give voice to the misfits and marginalised.

Trident was the brainchild of brothers Norman and Barry Sheffield. Built inside a former engraving works, it offered something revolutionary at the time: eight-track recording, a relaxed environment, and a rare respect for artists as collaborators, not commodities. The Beatles took up a short residency there, recording “Hey Jude” and parts of their White Album. Queen would later cut their first three albums at Trident. And during the studio’s golden era, it became home base for David Bowie and Marc Bolan. Albums like Hunky Dory, Ziggy Stardust, Aladdin Sane, Electric Warrior, and The Slider—cornerstones of Glam Rock—were born within its walls. Trident wasn’t just a studio; it was where Glam Rock was born, raised and finally left home.

By 1972, Bowie was no longer just a rising star—he was Ziggy Stardust, a cultural phenomenon. Between his own sessions, he turned producer and mentor. Transformer, Lou Reed’s second solo album, was one of his projects—co-produced with guitarist Mick Ronson, and recorded mostly at Trident that summer. Reed, yet to score a major solo hit, brought songs drawn from his life in New York’s queer underground, especially his time at Andy Warhol’s Factory. When the double A-side single Walk on the Wild Side / Perfect Day was released in November, it was instantly iconic. Seven inch vinyl doesn’t really get any more perfect than this.

Walk on the Wild Side is a spoken-sung ode to five real-life characters from the Factory scene—Holly Woodlawn, Candy Darling, Jackie Curtis, Joe Dallesandro, and Joe Campbell. Reed’s lyrics chronicle gender transition, sex work, drug use, and radical self-invention with a tone that’s deadpan, not judgmental. “An outright gay song,” he later called it—yet one so beautifully understated that it slipped past BBC censors. Indeed, on its release it was DJ Johnnie Walker’s record of the week on his Radio 1 show. It remains one of the first mainstream pop records to treat transgender lives as poetic lyrical subjects, not punchlines.

For all its apparent ease, the track’s construction was carefully crafted. On that August morning, Herbie Flowers arrived at Trident as usual: early, reliable, and carrying both his upright bass and Fender Jazz. A former RAF bandsman and jazz player, Flowers was known for his wit and precision as a session musician. He was familiar with Trident, and with the session’s producer, David Bowie. The first time they had worked together was at Trident back in June 1969, when he was hired to play bass on a rather quirky song about a character called Major Tom.

When Reed played through the song, Flowers had an idea. “Can I try something?” he asked. First, he laid down a walking line on the double bass. Then he overdubbed the same line an octave up on electric bass. The resulting groove—a sly, sauntering pulse—is one of pop music’s most recognisable, sampled by A Tribe Called Quest on Can I Kick It. For his effort, Flowers earned a double session fee: £34. “People ask if I feel bitter,” he later said. “Not at all. A bar of C and a bar of F for four minutes. Not my song. My job.”

But it’s precisely that kind of understated brilliance that elevates Walk on the Wild Side. Flowers’ bassline is joined by Bowie’s gentle rhythm guitar, Ritchie Dharma’s brushed drums, and Reed’s own deadpan vocal, equal parts detachment and tenderness. A further inspired touch comes from Thunderthighs—a backing trio made up of Karen Friedman, Dari Lalou, and Casey Synge—whose up tempo “Doo, do-doo, do-doo, do-do-doo” line became its own kind of hook, a playful contrast to the song’s darker undertones. Finally we have Mick Ronson’s understated string arrangement and Ronnie Ross’s woozy baritone sax solo. 

Though born of 1970s Manhattan, the song took shape in London. Before the first verse ends, Walk on the Wild Side becomes a transatlantic creation, carrying American counterculture into the heart of British youth. Glam Rock was in full bloom—offering young people in Britain a vivid alternative to post-hippie earnestness. Glam gave a new generation (ours) an excuse to cross-dress, wear make-up and be more open and exploratory about their sexuality. 

Reed, subjected to electroshock therapy as a teenager to “cure” his bisexuality, understood what it meant to live outside the margins. He gave Glam its most enduring anthem—not a fantasy, but a portrait of real people. While Glam often veered toward the theatrical, Walk on the Wild Side offered something starker and more authentic. Reed didn’t dress up his characters; he let them speak in quiet, matter-of-fact lines. In doing so, he created something far more radical than flamboyance: visibility.

“His song about Candy Darling was one of the first times I’d heard someone sing about a trans person—and romanticise it too,” said Laura Jane Grace of Against Me! decades later. “Any time a trans person is mentioned culturally and isn’t the butt of a joke, it’s a good thing. Just having it there in the public consciousness is a good thing.”

Trident Studios operated for little more than a decade, but left an extraordinary legacy. The Beatles, Bowie and Bolan were just a few who made musical history here. Trident’s one hundred year old Bechstein concert grand piano was a star in its own right. Once described as “the best rock ‘n’ roll piano ever”, the Bechstein probably features on more hit records than any other instrument. In addition to Hey Jude and Perfect Day, the Bechstein can be heard on Bowie’s Life on Mars, Harry Nilsson’s Without You, Elton John’s Your Song, Carly Simon’s You’re so Vain and all of the early Queen hits. 

More than half a century later, Walk on the Wild Side still resonates—not just for how it sounds, but for what it says. In a basement studio down a narrow alley in Soho, a handful of musicians created something larger than themselves: a song of tenderness, resistance, and quiet revolution. Lou Reed and all of those musicians who played with him are gone now. So are the muses he sang about—except for Joe Dallesandro, “Little Joe.” Yet together, they left behind a song that not only captured a moment, but offered a glimpse of the future as it could be. In a world where trans lives are still debated, the song remains: simple, defiant, and full of love. It still asks us—to listen with care, to accept without condition, and to stand alongside with courage.

---

Buy us a coffee

We love sharing our writing and research freely — and we want to keep it that way. Our hope is that these posts spark your interest and give you a good read.

If you’ve enjoyed what we do and would like to support the time, thought, and research that goes into it, we’ve added a Buy Me a Coffee button. We really appreciate your support.