For all my abiding love of The Velvet Underground, I’d have to concede that Lou Reed’s solo career has been inconsistent, and his albums a patchy representation of his talent.

After the early wham-bam of Transformer and Berlin – the former a hit-filled souffle, the latter a traumatic misery memoir – the gems have been hard to find.

I think Coney Island Baby is my overall favourite, and the one with the fewest duff tracks.

Throughout his career, the cantankerous and contrary Reed seemed to thrive on tormenting his fans with the occasional unlistenably crap song like the execrable Original Wrapper, the inane Disco Mystic, infantile Power Of Positive Drinking and inexcusable I Wanna Be Black.

Coney Island Baby is no exception, though at least you can find ironic laughter listening to the duff one, A Gift (lyric: “I’m just a gift to the women of this world”).

The rest of the songs are all great though, and aside from the scuzzy murder fantasy of Kicks (a perfect Velvets song) they’re infected with a mood of joy that’s anathema to the Reed persona: Lou was loved up at the time with his trans partner Rachel – his “Coney Island Baby.”

Anyway, Rachel may or may not be Charley’s Girl – the girl everyone tells Lou to be careful of, but whom he thinks he’s lucky to have. It doesn’t matter; it’s got the throwaway charm of a Transformer tune.