In 1975, six steps from his years with The Velvets, Lou Reed released Metal Machine Music, a blistering hour-long collection of experimental noise, distortion and sound art totally void of melody and rhythm. Though we now know that the record opened the door to later experiments by Reed and others, at the time of its issue, people hated it and its creator became a laughingstock. In the liner notes to the album, Reed claimed to have “invented” heavy metal music with it and now, 40+ years later, the aging rocker has teamed up with one of that very genre’s godfathers for a 10-song hunk called Lulu.

A collaboration born out of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame concerts of 2009 where Reed half-hobbled though “Sweet Jane” with James Hetfield and band amped at his side, the results changed course as time went on. From a theatrical performance in Berlin, to reworks of Reed’s unused songs throughout the years, once a direction to do new material was chosen and the record recorded, the first taste — earlier this year with “The View”— was, uh, questionable; it would have been a perfect April Fools joke, had it not surfaced back in September. Inspired by a pair of German expressionist writer Frank Wedekind’s plays (“Earth Spirit” and “Pandora’s Box”) about a sex worker/dancer that climbs through society’s ranks and dies at the hands of Jack the Ripper, Lulu as a whole, like that of a jagged mess of gristle and flesh he might fish out of a victim’s cavity is downright unpleasant, if not a horrid sight to behold, just in time for Halloween.

Firstly it’s long, damn long at 90+ minutes; no release from any player has eclipsed that and I checked both Load and Reed’s ‘02 concept work, The Raven. In an age of shelter in the shuffle, most listeners will likely jump ship by the time Lulu’s track three “Pumping Blood,” (the Jack the Ripper ode) starts, saving themselves the time. If you can survive the absolute chore it is on your ears, (I found myself under headphones, getting up with the song playing, having a conversation and coming back, to the same space from minutes ago), you’ll discover that a majority of the instrumentation that makes up these seven, eight, 11 and 19-minute long trips are comprised of annoying and recycled heavy riffing tripe that sounds so much like bits of tossed aside Metallica sessions it’s amusing. Finally after the mammoth, garbage riff-rock attempts at grandiose scapes on tracks like “Cheat on Me” or “Bradenburg Gate,” you get to the best (I mean “best” like in a movie you want to stop watching but just can’t look away) part- Reed’s grumbled vocals, like that of a rambling homeless person parked at a busy intersection.

From words on sexual flings, personal emotive struggle and simple anatomy lessons (vulva tastes anyone?), Lulu is full of lines that most “rock gods” would likely never tackle, especially at the ripe old age of 69. Some examples: “Marry me, I want you as my wife, spermless like a girl;” “If I wiggle my ass like a dog prostitute, would you think less of me?” and “Puny body and a tiny dick… Raising that doggy face to a cold-hearted pussy.” As a listener, you go from soothing sound mixtures comprised of dissonant strings or rogue guitars, to nasty and blaring cock-stroking accompaniment, all the while, Reed’s froggy croak persisting, his age transparent. Most of the tracks go on for much too long, passing exit point after exit point until, at times you’re so annoyed with it, (like the 11-minute “Dragon”) that when it’s finally over, you’re left panting, wanting anything with an arc, a build, a chorus and a refrain to rescue you. Maybe the best part about Lulu is that it tests the listener to ear bleed — it wants to know if you can handle it.  Stamina; 90+ minutes are a long time to listen to anything.

Overall, this is a messy and terrible collection made by the sorts of artists that have succeeded in being able to make challenging, underground music sound good, huge and memorable and here, they sadly fall flat on all accounts. This is a pile of a rambling Reed slung atop a textbook appropriation of a thrash/metal licks that Metallica helped very much to create, years ago when all that hair was in style. Perhaps a devoted few of Wedekind’s plays will find the record exotic, giving it their patience in search of some modern approach to the original work, but, for the rest of us, I highly recommend not wasting your time. Two huge names, Loutallica shows us, well gurgles along over 90 minutes, that they aren’t godlike players. People make mistakes, more so, artists make mistakes and I get that. Most of the time, it takes the outcome’s consensus to deem such efforts “flops” forcing the players to advance in response the next time around. Lulu’s reception so far is that it sucks- hard. The Quietus called it “one of the worst records ever made” and a large population of the metal fanbase (Metallica fans or otherwise) seem to be having a “WTF!?” field day with it. The Grandpa Simpson parody is pretty spot on.

In early press, Reed was widely quoted as saying that Lulu was “the best thing I ever did.” Don’t believe him. Worthy records can be such for various reasons, they can sound good outright and/or produce something that’s good, interesting or shaping like a genre or movement. What you have here quite simply doesn’t sound good — I’ll likely never listen to it again — but the latter, it’s potential to be some shaping release, still obviously deserves to be seen. Is Loutallica a new step for dino rockers? I doubt it. Will U2 hook up with the ghost of G.G. Allin on an 80-minute album all about Virginia Woolf? Hell, stranger things have happened — Lulu happened.

This review originally appeared on the Mishka Bloglin.