LOU REED, the erstwhile guitar hero of the '60s New York underground, has been getting some new sensations. These sensations may be old hat to normal people, but for Reed, the acceptance of life as it comes and the discovery of simple, everyday pleasures are two feelings to which he has never quite achieved. His struggle to fully possess these sensations--without succumbing to destructive side effects like alcoholism or worrying about over-whelming outside forces--gave his former albums, The Blue Mask and Legendary Hearts, their tension and energy.

On The Blue Mask, Reed set up a symmetrical contrast between these opposing forces, creating an unstable universe where the romantic bliss of a song like "Heavenly Arms" played tug-of-war against the dark despair of "Waves of Fear." Even the more subdued Legendary Hearts contained dark undercurrents that subverted the happy tranquility of "Rooftop Garden," with which Reed closed the record.

With New Sensations, Reed has abandoned his insecurities and turned away from the dark forces of the outside world. Instead, he is content to rest, for the entire album, in his Rooftop Garden. At its best, this attitude gives the album a certain offhand charm and casual sweetness. At its worst, Reed's new-found complacency segues into a timid syrupiness about the world that caters to the MTV set.

GRANTED, the sheer tunefulness of the best songs on this album is of some interest. "I Love You Suzanne," with Reed's crude lead guitar work winding around Fernando Saunder's bass run, should prove a breezy reintroduction for this ex-Velvet into the Top-40. "High in the City" pays tribute to urban joys, while nonchalantly accepting accompanying hassles of the city streets. Here, notice Reed's funny, offhand delivery of lines like: "Hey, look they're setting fire to that jeep. There's not much you can keep."

Reed takes his relaxed, California-mellow attitude even further on the title track, which, as a confessional, stands proudly alongside such earlier Reed classics as "Coney Island Baby" or "Street Hassle." The song opens with the rhythm section of Saunders and drummer Fred Maher chugging lightly along--as if the engine of Reed's GPZ motorcycle were building up to high gear--finally leading into the expansive guitar and synthesizer work of Reed and Peter Wood. The lyrics begin as a straightforward statement of Reed's new aims in life, but then suddenly veer off to follow Reed and his GPZ to a roadside diner out in Pennsylvania, where he takes part in the everyday life of the country people, and, for once, truly becomes what he seeks--the existence of an average guy. As a paean to the simple life, and as a promise of newfound security, this song evinces unusual warmth and maturity.

Unfortunately, the song "New Sensations," also points out the dead end Reed is headed after; none of the rest of the songs build and twist his idyllic vision, and Reed provides only one song--the bitter, funny "Turn to Me"--that offsets his "new sensations. As a result, most of the songs on the album remain too thin to merit lasting listening pleasure, instead merely showing a Reed content to rest on a by-now stale formula.

"My Red Joystick," for instance, is an indecipherable while about--it seems--patrimony, while "Endlessly Jealous" is yet another boring exposition of his marital squabbling. Meanwhile, 'Doin' the Things That We Want To" is a simplistic (albeit catchy) tribute to Sam Shephard and Martin Scorcese (but does Reed truly admire Travis Bickle, the tormented psychopath of Taxi Driver, for doing the things he wants to?)

In sum, the whole album permeates a sense of regression and risklessness; perhaps the most disheartening song on the album. "What Becomes a Legend Most," epitomizes this stepping back. A rip-off of Reed's earlier classic with the Velvet Underground, "New Age," the song signals an emptiness that has gripped this slugger. This man needs some new ideas. Limply rehashing old material does not become a legend at all.