General Rating: 3

Introduction

ALBUM REVIEWS:

• The Velvet Underground & Nico
• White Light/White Heat
• The Velvet Underground
• Loaded
• VU

APPENDIX: SOLO PROJECTS

• John Cale: Fear
• John Cale: Helen Of Troy
• Nico: Chelsea Girl
• Nico: Desertshore
• Nico: The End

No other group in the history of rock music has probably caused as much controversy as the Velvets. You may love them, may hate them, may deem them original and groundbreaking, or derivative and talentless - at least, you gotta admit that they have an absolutely unique place in the musical archives. During their short, but quite prolific and event-filled career, they were virtually unknown: their albums didn't sell, lurking somewhere at the bottom of the charts, and they finally broke up just on the brink of commercial success. Later on, they became icons of punk and alternative, the greatest love of music critics worldwide and the supposed 'major influences' on hundreds and thousands of rock bands. Recently, there's been a backlash against them once more - as a new breed of independent web critics like Mark Prindle and Brian Burks appears and gains popularity, the Velvets are shoved back once again. Lots of people claim they love the Velvet Underground, but don't know shit about the band; other people say they hate the Velvet Underground, but end up admitting they had their value, too (just look at Prindle's page of VU reviews and tell me he didn't get messed up on there). What's to be done?
Well, the only thing to be done is to approach the band with an open mind. There is one myth, I think, in desperate need of rebuttal: for many, the Velvets are one of the greatest influences for punk rock, if not THE first punk rock band in existence. Velvet Underground have nothing to do with punk rock. Out of four studio albums they released, two had nothing to do with punk rock at all, and the other two did have their moments of 'white noise' and feedback and musical chaos, but so what? Feedback and musical chaos weren't invented by the Velvets - the Who did it earlier, and Hendrix did it better. It's obvious that the band is being treated as 'punkish' only because of its attitude - you know, dirty, protesting, nihilist, etc., etc. Musically, they aren't any more 'punkish' than, say, the Beatles, for instance.
So what did the Velvets' music represent? Errr... the Velvets. That's right. Their style was unique and still remains unique - some of the so-called 'alternative' bands have come close to recapturing that old Lou Reed magic, but not many and not completely. Lou took a lot of influences: some Eastern music, some German cabaret tunes, some garage-rock attitude, and, above all, Dylan's beat poetry and singing style, stirred them together and came out with a genre that I could only qualify as 'VU-style rock'. It ain't soft, it ain't hard; it ain't folk, it ain't acid. It's special.
And since it's special, that means that if you'd like to enjoy the music of the Underground, you have to prepare yourself for something special. Much too often, people rush out and buy their albums because they deem it wise to get acquainted with the 'band that got it all started' (it = punk, alternative, hardcore, etc., etc.), and are left completely disappointed. Like, I wanted to have a fast, rip-roarin' early punk record, like all the Stooges and the MC5 and stuff, and what's that? Slow, dreary, repetitive, boring, monotonous... yawn. Now I'll be the first to admit that the Velvets did have their fair share of stinkers. Songs like 'European Son' or 'Sister Ray', while still considered masterpieces by many a weirdo on this weird planet of ours, are misguided experiments - dated, unimpressive and musically unimaginative. But one has to distinguish between the style in general and the particular stinkers.
Therefore, if you haven't yet heard any VU records, but would like to do so, please read the following disclaimer. Yes, like I said, the Velvets write slow, dreary, repetitive, monotonous songs. They aren't good improvisationists, either: if they get a riff groove going, they'll bore you with this riff groove for hours on end. They don't have more than two or three energetic rockers in their entire catalog. Their lead singer has a hoarse, cold, emotionless voice that will bug you and annoy you and disturb you if you're not used to that paradigm of singing. They don't have any instrumental virtuosos in the band (yeah, John Cale deals with his viola in a novel manner, but that still doesn't mean he's really professional). In other words, they are very Dylanish in style, and, in fact, I consider Lou Reed to be the best Dylan imitator in history. No wonder he's written so many Dylan rip-offs in his life, 'Sweet Jane' being the best and the most obvious of these.
On the other hand, the Velvets have a peculiar way of getting under your skin just due to their weirdness and Lou's amazing multi-facedness: just as he finishes beating you up with another pulsating, robotic, stone-cold rocker, he suddenly turns around and woos you with a ballad that's oh so beautiful you're ready to cry - before leading you away into the world of some crazyass sexual perversion and distorted violins. The man's a mystery, and his companions are mysterious, too, and the band simply has got an aura which makes its music so enthralling and involving. If anything, the Velvets are great because they did things that no one else ever dreamt of doing before them - either because these things were too simple or because these things were too complicated. Simple, because whoever thought perfection could be achieved by just sticking to an 'annoying' monotonous beat and repeating the same primitive guitar riff over and over till you bleed ('Waiting For The Man)? Or recording an acoustic demo with help from a female band member who can't really sing ('After Hours')? Complicated, because who ever thought of finding such untrivial subjects for his lyrics as Lou when he was penning 'Heroin', 'Venus In Furs' and 'Some Kinda Love' (not to mention the weird black humour of 'The Gift', of course). Whatever. A most interesting band, these Velvets. Just because they used to be so overrated doesn't mean they were all that great. And I give them a rating of three - with not a hint at any remorse or anything.
Note that, since then, Lou Reed has had a prolific and most worthy solo recording career. None of his efforts are as valuable as the Velvets' best products together, but much of it is prime stuff in any case. Please see what few records of Lou's I have reviewed on his own solo page. As for the Velvets themselves, my collection is fairly limited - as of now, I've only got the standard 'classic four' of their original studio recordings and can say nothing of the endless stream of live albums or the VU outtake collections, not to mention the box set. Gimme time. Better still, gimme money.
Lineup: Lou Reed - guitar, vocals; John Cale - bass, viola, vocals (limited); Sterling Morrison - guitar, bass, vocals; Maureen Tucker - drums, vocals (yeah, right - the poor girl can't sing worth a tattered sestertius). The German singerine Nico who sang on the band's debut album courtesy of Mr Warhol was never an official band member, but is quite important as a forming part of the band's groundbreaking album's identity, and so might "conceptually" be considered a band member for a short time as well. In the early days, Cale was just as important a driving force for the band as Reed; his departure in 1968 really cost the band the loss of a whole dimension of sound. For better or worse - you decide. Cale was replaced by Doug Yule - bass, keyboards, lead vocals on some tracks, usually the more poppy ones. Aw, what the hell, their last two albums were all poppy.

What do YOU think about the Velvet Underground? Mail your ideas

Your worthy comments:

Jason Burggraaf <jburggra@chat.carleton.ca> (10.08.2000)

To be honest, I've always taken your comparisons with a grain of salt, especially when it comes to Dylan - Neil Young is trying to be Dylan, Lou Reed is trying to be Dylan - basically cause i really didn't hear it in the music itself. But I just got the Velvet Underground Box Set, with it's first disc of early demos by Reed, Cale and Morrison, and yikes, if I didn't know any better, I'd swear that it was Dylan himself rehearsing his latest songs: 'Heroin', 'I'm Waiting For The Man' and 'All Tomorrow's Parties'. all of them with a slightly country-tinged guitar, and Reed in the most grating Dylan-voice. Unbelievable. Imagine the piano chords of 'All Tomorrow's Parties' being played on an acoustic guitar, and the lyrics sounding exactly like the vocal delivery on 'It Ain't Me Babe'. Again, Unbelievable. In fact, the only really good/interesting song on the disc is the early incarnation of 'Venus in Furs', which here sounds like a sad, English rural ballad, with S&M lyrics. With (I believe) Cale singing, it actually sounds quite like Roy Harper. Really good. I'll never doubt you again!

Martin Teller <fitfort@xprt.net> (04.09.2000)

I won't go into my opinions about the Velvets (which I cover well enough on my own page) but I do want to address this: "It's obvious that the band is being treated as 'punkish' only because of its attitude - you know, dirty, protesting, nihilist, etc., etc. Musically, they aren't any more 'punkish' than, say, the Beatles, for instance."  This is a common misconception about "punk", unfortunately.  You see, punk IS attitude!  It's not about guitars or hairstyles or chord progressions or piercings. It's not about playing fast and loud.  It's about FUCK YOU and everything you believe in.  John Cage is punk.  William S. Burroughs is punk.  Jackson Pollack is punk.  And VU is definitely punk.
[Special author note: that's not a "misconception" of punk, that's another definition of punk - a musical definition of punk as the kind of music that was, well, played by the Pistols and the Clash. And according to Martin's definition of punk, the Ramones weren't punks, for instance, because their classic punk albums did not have the "fuck you" attitude, whatever one might say.]

Year Of Release: 1967
Record rating = 9
Overall rating = 12

Overrated as hell, but there are gorgeous moments of revelatory beauty on this album which I'd never dismiss, for one.
Best song: SUNDAY MORNING (yeah, yeah, not that s****y HEROIN bore)

I dare say I'm pretty much eager to join the club of people who rave about the Velvet Underground being tremendously overrated even after listening to this record for almost half a year. And yet, it certainly has quite a lot of a charm of its own, not to mention a mood and a style unique to rock music, that still makes it stand out even among all the whoppers of 1967.
The picture is as follows: dirty bastards Lou Reed and Sterling Morrison (guitars) got together with a bohemian intelligent (John Cale, viola) and a soon-to-be pregnant female drummer (Mo Tucker), got Andy Warhol to manage them and proved to the world that rock'n'roll could not just be dirty - it could be mean and cruel as well. However, that's not my personal opinion about this record. This is merely what is usually said by people who refuse to dig deeper into the actual songs by Mr Lou Reed and prefer only to keep memories of him as a proto-punk rocker. The fact that this record also features 'Sunday Morning', which is, to my opinion, one of the most fantastic and intoxicating soft ballads ever written, usually escapes them...
Actually, I started this review in such a nonchalant mode because I'm pretty sure I needn't introduce you to this record. If, by any chance, you haven't heard it, just go ahead and buy it - doesn't matter if you like it or not, this is a landmark and a must in anybody's collection. But if you did, you'll know what I'm talking about.
To state the point more clearly, critics usually love this record because of the lyrics. For sure, nobody ever dared to go out and treat such matters as heroin addiction, sadomasochism or, well, homosexualism as openly and artistically as Lou Reed did on this record. But damn it, it has much, oh so much more than that! The Velvet Underground weren't just dirty punkers - no, they were an art band. (If they weren't, no way Andy would manage them). And in doing this record, Lou Reed and company put the most of their efforts into creating a distinct, self-sustained style that would incorporate lots of elements already assimilated by rock and yet sound totally different.
The addition of the German singerine Nico on some of the tracks certainly adds to the weird feel of the album, but that's not the main point. Here, suffice it to say that I would like to vehemently defend Nico from those who can't stand her: if you can't, don't. She's got a good German voice, and she sings in a traditional, maybe even slightly improved German manner - cold, proud and almost emotionless (yet check out 'Femme Fatale' to hear the very, very best). Maybe it does take some getting used to, but those who are used to enjoying old German movies will certainly understand me. She's not exceptional, but she's tolerable, anyway, her voice is far better than Lou Reed's (from a 'technical' point of view, at least). But enough about Nico. What I was going to say is that the style of the VU on this record is limited, but solid: creepy, drastically slow tunes with endlessly repeating riffs (monotony seems to be the main deity of these guys), over which are layered the creepy, drastically slow vocals with endlessly repeating intonations. Why punk rockers often claim to be influenced by this is way beyond me - this is as far removed from punk rock as, say, Joseph Haydn. Whether you'll like this style or will be lulled to sleep depends primarily on your constitution. I'll say here that Reed, Cale and Morrison were fine, but not exceptional songwriters: some of the pieces have beautifully constructed melodies (the above-mentioned ballads 'Sunday Morning' and 'Femme Fatale'; the solemn, bizarre 'All Tomorrow's Parties'). Some, however, are subconscious rip-offs: the 'rocker' 'Run Run Run' sounds like a cross between Dylan's 'Highway 61' and, sure enough, the Who's 'Run Run Run', while 'There She Goes Again' features the famous chord sequence off Marvin Gaye's 'Hitch Hike' (was it Marvin Gaye? Anyway, the Stones did it on Out Of Our Heads, so you check that out). And some do not feature any discernible melodies at all, sometimes for good effect (the mesmerizing 'I'm Waiting For The Man', with its bam-bam-bam-bam-bam beat going on and on and on until it gets you into a trance), sometimes for horrible (the closing 'European Son' with its lame and totally inept mess of guitar/viola feedback that probably sounded dated on the time of release - compared to Hendrix, this isn't even at school kid level). However, good or bad, the mood is nearly always the same: dreamworld mood. Personally, I like those variations of this mood when they charm me with their beauty ('Sunday Morning', ooh, that naive glockenspiel is so breathtaking), or when they get me into an almost masochistic groove ('I'm Waiting For The Man'), but dislike others - particularly dislike the very popular 'Heroin'. Yeah, I know it was revolutionary lyricswise, but it manages to drag on for seven bleeding minutes at a snail pace, and when it does quicken up in the chorus it does that in a very insecure and clumsy manner, so they might just as well leave it at the snail pace. Yawn. Oh, but I forgot to mention 'Venus In Furs'. Now this one is truly hypnotizing - the Eastern-flavoured viola line is tasteful and mystical, and...
...wait a minute, did I just say 'Eastern-flavoured'? Well, that's the very trick of the whole record! I mean, yes, there's quite a lot of Eastern (aka Indian) influence in the songs. But there's also quite a lot of German influence - and not necessarily due to Nico. That's where the key to this album's secret lies - it's a more or less successful marriage of German cabaret music to Indian spiritual chants, and it works in its own miraculous way. Come to think of it, Lou Reed's emotionless, gruff, strict baritone sounds even more German than Nico's, and the whole record has this feel - stern, unbended, uncompromised and, above all, impenetrable. This is an impenetrable record. If only the melodies were a little more tight and creative, and if only they'd got rid of that 'European Son' mess, this could have been a masterpiece. As it is, it isn't, but isn't it close? Well, guess it is...

Run run run to mail your ideas

Your worthy comments:

bgreiser <flibbertyjibbit@hotmail.com> (11.08.99)

Impenatrable? To whom? I guess that's the problem with criticism: it's sorely subjective. But I have to say, my fellow music lover, that your ears are untrained. You give yourself away when you admit that you don't know who did "Hitch-Hike." To understand this album and the work of this band overall, you have to have a firm grasp on soul, blues, and that intangibly catchy element known as "boogie." This album boogies like hell, in slo-mo on "Heroin," even and especially on "European Son." The "noise" that you hear is free-form improvisation along the lines of Ornette Coleman.
It's art, alright. I'm surprised that when you use that word in your review, you put a slightly negative spin on it, equating it immediately with the fey, repulsive weirdness of Andy Warhol. It's Eastern, it's gloomy, it's all these innovative things. But mostly, it moves with the assurance of one of the concommitantly tightest and loosest rhythm sections in rock. Advice: listen to the Rhino compilation The Best of Booker T. and the MG's about 12 times in a row (which will not be an unpleasant task) and then listen to this album again. Tell me what you've learned.
[Special author note: I really feel smaaaaaaalll.... so smaaaallll.... hey, don't you people think I oughta quit this job and go work in a bakery or somewhere?]

Gustavo Rodriguez <rodblanc@webtv.net> (25.08.99)

Finally--someone I can relate to! I HATE "Heroin"! I never understood the appeal of that song! A real boring, tedious drag! But I don't like Nico at all. Didn't miss her at all on the subsequent album.

Mike DeFabio <defab4@earthlink.net> (25.08.99)

Yeah, Nico's TECHNICALLY better than Lou Reed, but she's a whole lot less listenable. There's more to singing than just hitting the notes.
And "Heroin"'s not that bad. They just don't do it very well. It's a classic case of a good song done badly.
[Special author note: sure, Mike. There is more to singing than hitting the notes. You can't deny that Nico's not just hitting the notes, right? Otherwise you wouldn't call her singing "less listenable". She is special, and it all boils down to whether one's ears are trained or not, like "bgreiser" mentioned here. Sorry, guess I don't need to play such an asshole and correct myself. Okay, here goes the magic catch phrase: IT'S ALL A MATTER OF TASTE!]

Simon Hearn <simon@leehearn.freeserve.co.uk> (11.09.99)

I love this album. Quite unlike any other album around at the time of its release, it has influenced generations of musicians. The album cannot be underestimated. 'Sunday Morning' is a beautiful song, as is 'Femme Fatale'. My faves are 'I'm waiting for the man', 'venus in furs' and 'heroin', YES GEORGE 'HEROIN'. I think this is one of Lou's greatest compositions and the song just has this un nerving quality that completely hooks me in - I never get tired of it. You have to remember NO ONE was writing songs like this in 1967. Dark and decadent best describes this album - if you do not own it you are missing out on history - go grab a copy and expand your mind.

Nick Karn <Awake600@aol.com> (15.09.99)

I just borrowed this album out of the library, after hearing scathing comments about it on the Mark Prindle and Brian Burks sites (that it was the most overrated album in history and it's musically incredibly dull), then read your opinion on it and I have to say I pretty much agree with your basic assessment on it. It's a revolutionary album (because it's truly the beginning of underground/alternative music and it sounds highly unique to me even now), but it is a bit flawed (not as much as people seem to think, though).
First off, I don't really understand everyone's criticism of Nico's vocals -- I think they have tons more personality than Lou Reed's voice, which I think is very dull and lacks any sort of color (not unlike Bob Dylan). I enjoy "All Tomorrow's Parties" in particular quite a bit, with that great eerie piano and atmosphere, "I'll Be Your Mirror" is a nice tune, and I really can't see anyone else pulling off "Femme Fatale" in such an effective and distinctive manner as she did.
And that opener "Sunday Morning" -- I totally shake hands with you on that one. It's undoubtedly the highlight of the album and it absolutely is one of the "most intoxicating soft ballads ever written". "Venus In Furs" is that dreary and unsettling drug song which has simply phenomenal darkness... I love it, and I've never heard anything quite like that addictive, pulsating beat to "Waiting For The Man".
I think "Run, Run, Run" and "There She Goes Again" are really good, if a bit derivative like you said, rock songs, but my main gripes with this album (which really prevent me from giving it a 10 on my scale) are the horrible production, the quite unnecessary, irritating noise on the last two tracks -- "The Black Angel Death Song" and "European Son" are pretty much all distortion (the latter going on ridiculously for almost 8 minutes!) with almost no melody and the "epic" track "Heroin" I don't really care for either because the arrangement seems to be a bit wasted, and it's too slow.
This album is certainly not as great as the other albums of 1967 that I'd give a "9" or "10" (the debut albums from The Doors, Pink Floyd and Jimi Hendrix, the Moody Blues' Days Of Future Passed, and of course Sgt. Pepper) but it's still an outstanding piece of work. It's a bit overrated, but certainly not the most overrated of all time. That honor for me would be either the Sex Pistols' Never Mind The Bollocks (The Clash's debut was more revolutionary and made the point much more effectively) or AC/DC's Back In Black. Overall, I give it a solid 8.

Steve Maffei <jemster@ix.netcom.com> (21.11.99)

Thank God I finally have someone to help assure me I'm not going insane. I mean, isn't "Sunday Morning" the kind of Velvet track you wish punk would have been more influenced by? Beautiful, beautiful stuff...heck, I don't even know why "Heroin" is even recognized so much. The best lyrics on the whole album are on "Sunday"...no "shiny, shiny" on this one. Man, it's great. Hold on, I'm gonna go get that record off the shelf one more time.

Dan Luban <dahelu@earthlink.net> (25.06.2000)

Hmm...like with Mark Prindle's review of this album, all of your criticism makes sense, but somehow this album just works for me on some level.  "Sunday Morning" and "Femme Fatale" are, as you said, great ballads.  I've always liked "European Son" and, to a lesser extent, "Heroin"--sure, they're drones, but what hypnotic and whacked out drones they are!  For me, though, the two highlights are "All Tomorrow's Parties" and "The Black Angel's Death Song".  They both seem to capture a moody, mesmerizing, almost mystical tone (if you'll excuse the cheesy alliteration).  I find that this album holds together remarkably well, and isn't overrated at all.  This is not true of their next two albums, though: White Light/White Heat goes overboard with the experimental drones, and ends up sounding rather pretentious (though I still enjoy it somewhat).  The third album, on the other hand, isn't nearly ambitious enough, and sounds rather boring (except "What Goes On" and "Pale Blue Eyes").  Well, nice site you have...keep up the good work.

Fredrik Tydal <f_tydal@hotmail.com> (14.08.2000)

One of the world's most overrated albums, from one of the world's most overrated groups. Yes, I agree completely with both Prindle and Burks on this matter. Them and others have perfectly explained how the Velvets reached such levels of overratedness, so I won't go into that. So, when all alleged roots of influences and importance attributed to the group are removed, we are left with a fairly decent album. The opening "Sunday Morning" is a beautiful little gem - I would like to see the face of a punk fan putting on this album for the first time, eager to hear the alleged roots of punk rock and hearing this. No, this ain't punk. It ain't avant-garde, either. "I'm Waiting For The Man" desperately wants to be a dirty Rolling Stones song, but makes the same mistake the Glimmer Twins eventually did - focusing too much on the dirt instead of the actual song. I know how much you like her, George, but I personally just can't stand Nico. I normally don't have a problem with unusual voices, but she's apparently the exception. I admit "Femme Fatale" is quite a solid song where Nico actually doesn't bother me that much. "All Tomorrow's Parties", on the other hand... Ouch. It might have been good in Lou's hands, since the song itself is good - reminding me of Dylan's "Gates Of Eden". "Venus In Furs" is one of the better songs on the album, in spite of Cale's pretentious viola playing. I don't care much for the guy, seemingly doing nothing else then bothering people with that viola, desperately trying to be artsy and avant-garde. The whole Eastern vibe on the album seems to be inspired by The Byrds' Fifth Dimension. When they're ripping somebody off, they're at least up-front about it; as in "Run Run Run" and "There She Goes Again". And I have to disagree with you about "Heroin"; I actually like it. At least they were conscious about their drug problems. But the real stinkers are the two closing numbers. Ouch. Please leave the feedback to those who can use it creatively. So, I guess I disagree with you on this one, George. This is a five, perhaps a six in my book. This one can't stand up at all to those great records of 1967 (yeah, I know it was mainly recorded in '66, but there were pretty good albums that year too).
P.S. Now, wait a second here... I've always thought that "I'm Waiting For The Man" was about Lou waiting for a male prostitute. You know, hearing how daring, controversial and revolutionary the song was for its time. Imagine my surprise when I'm skimming through the Velvet book "Uptight: The Story Of The Velvet Underground" and the writer states that the song actually is about scoring drugs up in Harlem! What's so freakin' revolutionary about that? Folk blues singer Leadbelly beat them by roughly thirty years with his ode to cocaine dealing "Take A Whiff On Me" ("went down to corners of 4th Street and Main, tryin' to get some good cocaine - oh, oh baby take a whiff on me..."). So where's the revolution? One of the few blues artists partly succeeding in crossing over to a white audience by incorporating folk material in his reportoire, Leadbelly was certainly more well-known than the Velvets in 1967. Not to mention all the other countless, though less famous, blues artists writing and singing about drug dealing and dependency problems. So, the Velvets were not revolutionary at all in this aspect. Not even with "Heroin".

Rich Bunnell <taosterman@yahoo.com> (12.10.2000)

I guess that mean people like to act like this album sucks, but that's why they're mean. This is a really cool album, and when I popped my $7.99 copy in expecting to hear nothing but dissonant noise and under-produced drug songs (from what everyone was saying about it) (well, I never said that - G.S.), I was surprised to find a fairly normal-sounding, welcome album. Oh sure, there are the long drugged-out things like "Heroin"(which rules) and "European Sun"(which blows), but they also provide neat little pop songs like "There She Goes Again" and "Sunday Morning"(the basis for half of the songs that Yo La Tengo have ever written - not that they're a bad band, mind you). The rest of the album is somewhere inbetween, alternating between bouncy, bizarre rock ("I'm Waiting For The Man"), intriguing drones ("Venus In Furs," the namesake of super-cool '80s postpunk band the Psychedelic Furs) and...well...Nico's songs.
Regarding Nico, I agree with most people that she has a really bad voice (and she looks like a man, if the back of the CD isn't lying to my eyes), and I also agree with Mike that there's really more to singing than just hitting the notes. Lou Reed might have a rambling, growley baritone, but it's much easier to listen to and actually manages to hit the emotional notes he aims for (which are mostly "I like drugs," but still). Nico sounds like she's just sounding off the syllables like some five-year-old who's just learned how to read. That said, the three Nico songs are all melodically perfect, especially "Femme Fetale"(covered later by Duran Duran, not that anybody cares) - "All Tomorrow's Parties" in particular has a neat slow-burning vibe; great song. Great album. Lester Bangs may have been a drug addict, which probably aided his listening to these guys, but there's still a whole lot of truth in his appraisal of the band. A nine.
P.S. Wait a second....that's not Nico, that's Sterling Morrison. And Maureen Tucker has her hair cut short on the back cover, so I thought she was one of the guys. Even though she's wearing lipstick. Stupid confusing bandmembers!!!

Year Of Release: 1967
Record rating = 7
Overall rating = 10

Audacious excursions into the secret life of feedback, but not without its small charms.
Best song: WHITE LIGHT/WHITE HEAT

Nearly every band or artist with an edge that approaches 'experimental' have a side that's acceptable to the main rock-loving public and a side that's only acceptable to 'initiates'. It's like a test, you know - whether you're able to apply for a diehard fan nomination or not. For instance, I know that I don't pass the 'diehard' nomination for Frank Zappa since I can't stand The Grand Wazoo, a cult album for fanatics. White Light, then, is the cult album for Velvet Underground fans. If you like it, you've passed the test; if you love it, you're really one of the few. I, myself, have mixed feelings towards it, just as towards any of these 'cult albums', for quite obvious reasons. Where there is major controversy in tastes, I usually prefer to steer clear. Is White Light a great classic, an unjustly lost gem, or is it just a collection of sloppy, pathetic, feedback-drenched 'jams'? I can almost predict that most of the comments that I'm bound to receive for this review will slam me from either side, because people rarely tend to be objective. But well, that's the unhappy fate of the reviewer...
Anyway, on their second album the Velvets undeniably go overboard with the whole 'noise' thing that they really didn't experiment that much with on the first album. Apart from that crappy 'European Son' stuff, it was all just dark and Eastern and German and viola-treated and all that. You won't find a lot of Cale's viola on here, in fact, you won't find anything that made Nico so stylish - Nico herself is gone, and apparently she's taken with her all the trendy gimmicks, like bells, glockenspiel, sitar, etc. This is a purely guitar-oriented album, and quite punkish at that: in fact, this is probably the only VU album that could be seriously taken as an influence on punk. To a certain extent, that's better: most of the songs have a rockin' feel to them, and I'd never agree with anyone who says the album doesn't rock - it does, but does so in a lazy, heroin-drenched, almost lethargic vein. The title track that opens the album with a terrific start is an instant classic: it might have been better done on live albums like Reed's Rock'n'Roll Animal, but in any case nothing can compare to the weird, distorted, totally stoned-out sound of this one: dirty, gritty and, well, funny - even if the song's lyrics do deal with drug addiction (amphetamines, to be precise). Musically, it's based on the same steady, 'white' beat that made 'Waiting For The Man' so hypnotizing, only here it's a bit faster and, well, dirtier.
The troubles, however, start immediately after the first song. 'The Gift', for instance, is a major point of controversy: an eight-minute bluesy shuffle a la early Stones, with Reed and Sterling Morrison exchanging all kinds of cliched blues-rock licks while Cale recites a lengthy story about Waldo mailing himself to his girlfriend in a box and what came out of it. On first listen, it's gripping; on second listen, it's fun to just listen to the guitars; on third listen, it's excruciating. The story itself is a good attempt at penning something horrible, but do you really need to learn it by heart? Guess not. Still, somebody on the Prindle site rightly pointed out that if you haven't heard this for a long time, it might jump out at you again as fresh as ever... good point, even if not quite convincing. Anyway, warning #1 given.
The next three songs are actually kinda cool, which is mostly why the album gets a fair enough rating (yeah, and for the title track, of course). 'Lady Godiva's Operation' has some more spooky lyrics, and have you noticed how they actually borrowed the melody of 'Sunday Morning' for the verses? Now that's creativity! John Cale starts to sing it, but later he's 'intercepted' by Lou who proceeds to rupture and distort the original clear melody, turning the song into pure chaos towards the end. Then there's the short and pretty 'Here She Comes Now', and, of course, the most energetic track on the album with some brilliant, first-class-distortion solos by Lou, showing he was a punk guitarist after all.
And then there's the major embarrassment: the seventeen-minute 'Sister Ray'. Of course, many regard this as Lou's masterpiece, while even more regard this as a piece of prime crap. Well, it starts out good enough for me - based on one more punkish beat and with ambivalent lyrics that include sucking on ding-dongs and other stuff. And, whatever be, it's a major improvement over 'European Son' because they actually play their instruments - not just engage in a series of ear-destructive guitar noises. But of course, seventeen minutes of this stuff is pure sadism (and masochism for those who enjoy it). Taken in small doses, this stuff is really good, because, to tell you the truth, I really like how the guitars and especially Cale's organ sound on here - dark, menacing, fast and distorted, just the little something you need to disturb your primal instincts. But even your primal instincts can get numbed if you keep disturbing them like that for what seems like ages. What pisses me off even more is the horrible production: the whole album sounds disgustingly underproduced, but it's most evident on 'Ray'. Whenever Lou starts to sing, it sounds like he's being recorded from the street through a studio window. Add to this the fact that for the last ten minutes he's mostly repeating the same verses over and over again, and there you go - paranoia guaranteed!
Of course, the album's wild, freaky nature is an intentional thing - they wanted the record to piss off everybody, so it should be all taken with a grain of salt. Whether or not this stuff is dated, though, is an entirely different matter. For me, at least, this works better than most of your average punk noise, because, believe it or not, it's still artsy (right), and it does have that wonderful Sixties' smell which makes it all the more interesting. But definitely not recommendable if you hate noise at all. Particularly white noise.

The gift would be to mail your ideas

Your worthy comments:

Lisa Joy <derleg@earthlink.net> (01.11.99)

This album is more influential than any Rolling Stones album, which in my opinion is what makes a band or its work great.

Michel Franzen <crazytimes25@yahoo.com> (13.01.2000)

I would give this lp at least a 13. It is one of the great roaring disaster albums of all time--nothing ever sounded like this before it. No one outside of jazz had ever attempted an album as sonically ferocious as this, with no regard for distortion meters or public taste. It may sound horrible and is difficult to digest, but this album is as pure a statement of white noise and dirge jamming as it gets, and it is daring in its indulgence. It also has its moments of understated droning as well. Historical, at least.

mjcarney <mjcarney@netzero.net> (22.07.2000)

White Light/ White Heat, was the record that the Velvet Underground were supposed to make, it is totally uncompromising, loud, screechy, punky, and near brilliant, but it also has several flaws on it that make it short of being perfect.  Also, just because this was the record they were supposed to make, it isn't necessarily there best--I think Loaded is that just because of Lou's increasingly superb songwriting on it to match another set of typically brilliant lyrics.  Anyway, this album takes all of the experimental noisy parts from VU+Nico, expands them, and then turns them all inside out into a record that sounds like nothing else before it, and almost nothing else after it--Funhouse by the Stooges is the closest that I have heard, but they are not quite in the same league as the Velvets as far as mass experimentation goes.  This is THE ALBUM, in my opinion, that started punk rock as it is today.  It even has probably the first ever full fledged punk song in "I Heard Her Call My Name" and of course "Sister Ray".  But anyway now onto the album itself not just its history.  It opens with a true velvet classic, and perhaps the most instantly likable song, with the title track.  This is probably the only song that could have fit quite well on VU+Nico, and it is brilliant.  Next comes, what some could call boring, but what I think is revolutionary, in "The Gift".  This song has Cale, just unemotionally reading a story amidst some bluesy/punky rythyms which progressively get stronger as the story continues.   The story is about a guy Waldo that is half way across the country from his girlfriend Marsha.  He thinks she is cheating on him (which she is), so he tries to surprise her by sending himself in a wooden box (the gift).  The package gets to her and she and her friend have trouble opening it, so they take a chainsaw, and split the package open in the middle, killing Waldo.  It is quite depressing once you learn the lyrics, but with all the noise and the almost uncarring/monotone format that Cale reads it amongst the growing noises in the background make it hard for the average listener to pick up the entire story.  It is a brilliant song though, so revolutionary in its simplicity and I for one can listen to this song over and over and never tire of it.   "Lady Godiva's Operation" continues with the "unlistenability" of the album.  It is a fine, yet very strange song with a bizarre melody, like "The Gift" before it, it starts out rather slow then progresses into a weird mess of noise, dual singing, and guitars.  Another  supremely experimental track, if even in a more pop oriented tone but nothing that the average pop listener would be able to stand.  This entire album demands a few listens--actually a lot--before you can get past its noisy/punky sound.  "Here She Comes Now" is the most pop-oriented song on here, it also is the most listenable despite its lyrics, which continue with Lou's sexual overtones in a rather graphic format.  Next comes the punky "I heard her call my name".  THis song takes the basic track and sound of "Run Run Run" speeds it up, adds a lot of noise to it, and basically invents what would become punk rock 7-8 years before the fact.  Another revolutionary track, and a definite highlight.  Finally, the so-called classic "Sister Ray" ends this one.  It is another, extremely uncompromising/ unlistenable song on the record, with punk overtones, and Lou's graphic sexual lyrics again.  Many consider this to be a classic, but for me it goes on WAY TOO LONG! 18 minutes or whatever of a punk rock/ 2-3 chord progression, with absolutely no hooks--like the rest of the album, but yet it just doesn't work.  Although, the basic track isn't bad, and there is a whole lot of experimentation on it, I just don't care for it, or its length and it definately drags the album down somewhat.  Overall though, this album is not for the uninitiated, do not get this album if you are purely a pop fan, or if you have never heard anything by the group (if that is the case buy either Loaded or VU+Nico for some excellent, more instant, somewhat pop-oriented material).  If you already own one of these albums, and love them, then definately buy this one.  It is probably the most challenging record of all time (Zappa, Beefheart, and Tom Waits included).  That said, it is very rewarding.  I would rate the album an 8/10.  For its historic reasons it deserves nothing short of a 10, but for the rambling jam at the end, it can't get much higher than an 8.

Year Of Release: 1969
Record rating = 10
Overall rating = 13

An amazing, confessional, straightforward, often beautiful collection of Assorted Love (And Kinky Sex) Songs.
Best song: CANDY SAYS

Cale quit right after White Heat followed the debut album into obscurity, and was replaced by popster Doug Yule, a nice-meanin' kinda guy who, unfortunately, earned a strange reputation among Velvetheads which I could only compare with the reputation of Patrick Moraz among Moody Blues fans. I do not think, though, that it was Yule's fault that the band moved away from feedback experiments and began rapidly advancing in the direction of becoming a 'normal' band; rather it was the lack of Cale, who was indeed the catalyst for all the weirdness. Anyway, this album is a perfect start for your VU collection - especially if you are, like me, upset about the likes of 'Sister Ray' or 'European Son'. I'd say that overall the songwriting level is a bit of a let down as compared to Nico: few of the songs managed to grapple me at once, but, once they did, they managed to convert me. So this one wins out as the best VU album simply because of its consistency (I mean, Loaded is also consistent, but it's a bit too un-Velvetish to get all the honours).
VU is actually quite different-sounding from the early stuff. If you ask me, the music perfectly matches the album cover - our heroes, dressed in perfectly normal and homely clothes, are sitting on a perfectly normal and homely sofa in what looks like a perfectly normal and homely living-room (okay, maybe it's a basement, it's dark in there; even so, it's a perfectly normal and homely basement). And the music, too, is inviting and homely, with the production stripped-down to an absolute minimum - most of the time, it's just a quiet guitar, soft percussion and an uninvolving bassline. And it's horrendously quiet - the guitars are either acoustic or, if they are electric, they're soft and inoffensive, the singing is inobtrusive and a bit muffled, and even when there are rockers ('What Goes On', 'Beginning To See The Light'), there's not an ounce of aggression or even energy about them. This is the kind of album that you are indeed able to make in your living room - just set up a recorder and a couple of guitars, and you can knock it off in two hours. Not that I actually imply that they did knock it off in two hours, mind you, because it's obvious that it took a long time to pen these terrific songs; but somehow I doubt that they really spent too much time in the studio. In any case, they probably didn't have much of a budget to experiment with sitars or phasing, what with their total lack of commercial success and all.
Of course, the main drawback of this approach is that for many a weak soul among us the record will serve as a great cure for insomnia - I myself sometimes feel like dozing off at the last minutes of 'Pale Blue Eyes' or even 'Candy Says', my favourite song on here. But that's not because the songs are boring, mind you, or bad, or poorly written. They're more like great lullabies, see - now you wouldn't want to call a lullaby 'boring' because it makes you go to sleep? That's what lullabies are for! If you really fall asleep to the sound of 'Candy Says' or 'Jesus' or 'Pale Blue Eyes', that's quite healthy. In fact, this is one excellent album to put on before turning off the lights (maybe even after turning them off) - so nice and soothing and calm and brilliant. Kinda like Dylan's Selfportrait, but don't kill me for saying that. Selfportrait is pretty underrated, by the way.
In any case, like I said, there are tons of great songwriting here. The only track that somehow connects it to the 'bizarreness' of old is the nine-minute 'Murder Mystery', a 'psycho' experiment where all the band members pronounce endless stream-of-conscience speeches all at once that they set to two alternating melodies. This can be mind-numbing at times, but both the melodies are cleverly constructed, and the piano coda is nice, too, so, if not a masterpiece, the number is at least much more tolerable than 'European Sun' or even 'Heroin'. Plus, it's got Moe Tucker singing (see below)!
Elsewhere, you get just a couple buzzing rockers - 'What Goes On' is partially ripped-off from the same-titled Beatles song (for some strange reason, nobody notices that, even if Lou croaks the line 'What goes ooon in your mind?' exactly in the same way as Ringo does it), but only partially, and the chainsaw solo in the middle is by far the most rousing moment on the whole album; and 'Beginning To See The Light' has some subtle repetitive charm of its own, like in 'Waiting For The Man', only this time there's no real weirdness around, just a crazy simulation.
But the album's true bliss lies not in the rockers - Lou and company have striken upon a golden mine of balladry, alternating one minor chef-d'oeuvre with another. 'Candy Says' is a song that heralds a series of firsts: it has the first time Doug Yule is singing lead vocals (and he does it pretty well, too), it's the first song with the title constructed according to the formula '[female name]+says' (cf. 'Stephanie Says', 'Caroline Says', 'Lisa Says', ad infinitum), and it's also the first song in the Velvets' catalogue that could be called 'sappy' - but it's the wonderful kind of sap that makes you shed tears and not feel even a little guilty. The melody is so awesome, and Yule croons out the lyrics devoted to an Andy Warhol drag queen with such tenderness and devotion, and the little silly 'doo-doo-wah' chants at the end are so cute, that it's easily the best number on the album. 'Pale Blue Eyes' has been called one of the world's greatest love songs by the Rough Guide to Rock, and while I could hardly agree, it's certainly charming and extremely touching in its almost childish naivety. And, of course, the lines 'thought of you as my mountain top/thought of you as my peak' are sheer genius. And 'Jesus'? Why - that's almost a religious hymn, people, and they seem to take it seriously. 'Help me in my weakness 'cause I'm falling out of grace'. What the hell is that? And, most of all, why the hell is it so beautiful? If you listen hard, you'll understand that it's actually based on a blues pattern, but they twist the melody in such a dazzling way that you could never guess. I only guessed after looking at the lyrics sheet...
Just to remind you, though: this is the Velvet Underground. Dem Velvets ain't no sissy gospel revival schlock. Dem Velvets used to sing 'bout SEX, remember that? That's why they have 'Some Kinda Love' on here, too - you can actually hear Lou giggle as he grumbles out: 'the possibilities are endless/And for me to miss one/Would seem to be groundless'. Indeed; if it's possible to put this jolly ode to kinkiness on the same side with a humble religious prayer, then the possibilities are truly endless. Another possibility is croaking out a convincing 'soul' tune ('I'm Set Free'), and another possibility is to let Moe Tucker bring the album to a close with a short, acoustic-driven ditty about death. Actually, if 'After Hours' hadn't been undermined by the steady 'grunt - grunt - grunt - grunt' of Yule's bass holding up the acoustic guitar, it could have easily been mistaken for a 'live' recording of a 'homemade' tune sung by some camp girl taking a hike with her friends. Poor Moe, she can't sing at all - she's terribly off-key, but in a certain way, this only makes the song more charming and innocent. Just as 'Candy Says' is the perfect album opener, 'After Hours' is the perfect closer to the VU's most consistent, listenable and impressive fourty-five minutes.
Why this record never sold much is a mystery to me; the only explanation I can offer is that the rock public was by then far more keen on bombastic, pretentious types of music - hard rock was in full bloom, and prog was just taking off. In that way, this album's initial failure to gain the public's eye can probably be compared only to the bombing of the Kinks' Village Green: both were quiet, humble, moderate records that never guaranteed much excitement but should be listened to in a relaxed, self-composed condition, with no drugs or stimulants in sight. Fortunately, time has corrected that mistake, and we should finally give both of these classics their due. So go out and buy it today, if your parents never bothered to buy it thirty years ago!

What goes on? Where are your ideas?

Your worthy comments:

mjcarney <mjcarney@netzero.net> (24.07.2000)

After the sonic roar of the classic White Light/White Heat, Cale left, and Reed carried the band on into a startlingly different, almost subdued direction with their self titled release.  Gone are all of the noises, thunderous guitar, and mass experimentation--except for in 'Murder Mystery'.  What is left is almost a singer/songwriter type of album in the Velvet Underground style.  Full of Reed's typical lyrical nature, yet lacking the bite of the first two albums, this sees the band in a transitional period.  Highlights are the Yule sung Reed written "Candy Says", which is almost a lullaby, and sounds like nothing the band put out before it.  "Pale Blue Eyes" and "I'm Set Free" are the two great ballads--if you want to call them that--on the album and "After Hours" is just fun (it sounds like a club song) The rockers "What Goes On" and "Beginning to see the light" are really the only rocking moments on the disc.  They add some refreshment to the subdued nature, but the cannot add enough to make this album be nearly as strong as their other three.  The other songs are just too slow, and subdued.  It is easy to fall asleep to this music, and I for one miss the experimentation and punch which was all over their other albums.  "The Murder Mystery" has some of the experimentation, but it is in no way a classic.  By this time, the Velvets were selling next to nothing, and this album, although it seemingly tried for some commercialism, was doomed to fail too.  It probably turned off more record buyers than what it would have added for the band simply because by this time they had a huge reputation for their harshness.  It has its moments, but is nothing near a 10.  I would give it a 6/10.  Easily their worst release, and that is why it gets such a low rating.  This was just such a step downward, but Reed would make up for this with the beautiful Loaded.

Year Of Release: 1970
Record rating = 8
Overall rating = 11

Quite acceptable for the basic rock'n'roll fan, right. But doesn't it betray the Velvets' image a bit?
Best song: ROCK & ROLL

Play this back to back with Nico (or, even better, with White Heat) and you'll see how much they changed in such a short time. Yeah, the departure of Cale and addition of 'popster' Doug Yule in his place certainly added to the metamorphose, but I wouldn't be surprised if these changes were primarily caused by Lou's own plans to become a trifle more commercial. Nevertheless, the fact is that the album was completed without Lou, already after he'd left the band, and God only knows how it would have looked otherwise. As it is, the record is pretty normal: not only are there no signs of freakin' jams that made early VU albums so 'preposterous', there's not even a trace of Reed's former aggression and perversity. Instead, he concentrates on his 'softer' sides - the Dylan vibe that he always shared; some nostalgic feelings; and your basic gritty rock'n'roll that falls somewhere in between Chuck Berry and the Stones.
Not to mention Doug Yule, of course: his sappy ballad that opens the album ('Who Loves The Sun'), although quite pretty by itself, is so much incompatible with the Velvets' past that it really makes you wonder. The thing to do is compare this funny Turtles rip-off with the album opener on Nico: Lou's 'Sunday Morning', though a ballad as well, was mystical, German-influenced and just plain weird, while 'Who Loves The Sun' is obvious, doo-wop-influenced and just plain forgettable. Okay, forget 'forgettable'. Like a silly child, I love all these 'pah-pa-pa-pa... who loves the sun...'. But if you're much too serious to feel like a silly child, you wouldn't want to mess around with the song after you've heard it once.
But let us not put all the blame on Doug Yule, all right? Lou's own 'I Found A Reason' that you meet later on is a generic attempt at replicating some kind of Elvis-style soft ballad with Motown influences, together with bland background vocals and a spoken sentimental mid-section, ooh, what a horrendous song. My only hope is that it's some kind of parody. What's been happening here?
Fortunately, Lou hasn't yet forgotten how to rock out. 'Rock & Roll', one of the two classics present on this album (the other one is the much overrated 'Sweet Jane' which I'll be mentioning later on), has everything that makes up excitement and more: a funny storyline about Jenny whose 'life was saved by rock'n'roll', hey, doesn't that relate to us all?; some gruff, ridiculously strained vocals; a boppin' 'n' poppin' rhythm; a furious lead break; and even some little tasty bits of dirty feedback in the very end. Plus, 'Cool It Down', 'Head Held High' and 'Train Round The Bend' all score - there's little to distinguish them from your average R'n'B standard, but then there's Lou's singing voice that makes 'Cool It Down' a real treat. Wheezy and nasty, it doesn't get out of your head for quite a long time. And, just as to be perfectly honest, I must say that 'Train Round The Bend' is really distinguishable by its brilliant use of feedback incorporated into the main riff. And anyway, this is the sphere where Doug Yule really cannot compete with Lou: his dumb country-rock extravaganza ('Lonesome Cowboy Bill') grows out of nowhere and goes exactly in that same direction. What was he trying to do, compete with Gram Parsons? Sheez...
The 'softer' numbers also become more concentrated and hooky, but with a respective reduction of that groovy Velvets vibe. 'New Age' presages some of Lou Reed's solo work with its almost Berlin-ish feel: a sad, sceptical ballad with a nostalgic and strongly 'anti-celeb' feel (at least, that's how I would dub it); interesting and fresh, but not striking. And 'Oh! Sweet Nuthin' again borrows too much from country, moreover, it drags on for seven minutes without really achieving anything - it's not emotional, it's not experimental, it's not weird and it's not funny. It's just... okay. Not bad. Listenable. Acceptable. Accessible. Pleasant. Innocent. Presentable. Orderly. Professional. Hell, maybe even memorable. But the title perfectly matches the content: 'sweet nuthin' indeed.
So I definitely disagree with everybody who calls this album a 'classic'. Sure, it's conventional and a bit more 'musical' than their early ventures into the world of Indiano-German fantasies, but maybe I just miss these Indiano-German fantasies in the first place. This record has no identity and nothing outstanding about it. And now I also have something to say about 'Sweet Jane' - why shouldn't I? People love it as hell, and I enjoy it, too, but c'mon now, why does nobody ever mention that it's as obvious and evident a Dylan rip-off as possible? Everything - starting from the melody and ending with the lyrics. Every time I put it on, I can hear echoes of 'Stuck Inside Of Mobile' or 'Queen Jane Approximately' (lyrics-wise) in my head. So it's a little confusing - people keep praising Lou for such a cool song when the only thing he actually introduces here is his cool voice that's almost as bad as Dylan's but in a different way. This, in fact, is the only thing that gives the number a VU identity. Strange as it is, the song is probably one of the two or three biggest successes of the Velvets - covered and revered by everybody. Isn't it funny that by doing so people actually pay more tribute to Bob than they do to Lou without even knowing it?
Well I told you now, so consider your eyes opened.

Cool it down and mail your ideas

Your worthy comments:

Gustavo Rodriguez <rodblanc@webtv.net> (25.08.99)

George, I think you entirely missed the whole point of this fine album. It's a POP album, but it's also a parody of pop cliches and for the most part I think it suceeds.
First off, George, you have to get one fact straight. Doug Yule didn't write "Who Loves The Sun?" or "Lonesome Cowboy Bill". Reed was pretty much the main author of all of the songs on the album.
"Who Loves the Sun" is a humourous piece! How did you miss that? It's obviously a take off on "Here Comes The Sun." As the opener of the album, it perfectly underlines a major theme of the album. And to add another layer of irony, it's a fun and catchy song to listen to, in short, a well crafted pop song. There is a neat chord change in it I like a lot.
"I Found a Reason" is both comedic and touching. Again both a parody of doo wap that portrays a real (but warped) sentiment hardly common in doo wap. I agree that "Lonesome Cowboy Bill" (again--Reed wrote it--blame him) is a failure (nice cheap Gram Parsons dig, pal) but the rest of the album is a classic.
"Oh Sweet Nuthin'" is flawed and is too long but it's not a complete waste.
I prefer the Velvet's later "pop" phase to the first two records. I'm not hip, I know, I know!!
[Special author note: I'm not hip either, Gus, but if it's a parody, it's a failed one because I can't see the parody on here. A mishmash of styles, yes, but much too dumb to be a good parody. 'I Found A Reason', comedic? Well - only because it's sung by Lou Reed!]

Ben Greenstein <bgreenstein@nctimes.net> (08.09.99)

Well, I actually like "Who Loves The Sun" quite a bit, and think that there are many more obvious Dylan ripoffs than "Sweet Jane," but, for once, my main argument lies not with George, but with Gustavo Rodriguez.
A parody? That's honestly the agrument that you're going to use? There is not a hint of irony on this album - it's simply a collection af fun little pop songs, as unlike the Velvets as it may be. If you think that there was any more to it than that, then you are WRONG. I enjoy it as much as you do, but I think that Lou DID try and write a collection of accesible pop tunes - something he's actually done quite a bit in his solo career. Are you going to defend Sally Can't Dance or Rock 'N Roll Animal next, complaining that "he was mocking other groups!" First and foremost, we must recognize that Lou Reed, talented songwriter or not, is a HUMAN BEING, and humans are eager to give into temptation. So when asked to make his sound more mainstream, Lou did just that. I mean, why do YOU think John Cale left the group?
As for the album, I love "Rock And Roll" and "Cool It Down," and most of the others. The last few tracks are kind of weak, but the good material more than makes up for it.

Gustavo Rodriguez <rodblanc@webtv.net> (01.10.99)

Greenstein:
Wrong? A little objectivity wouldn't hurt..
There's plenty of irony on Loaded and yes, in Reed's solo work. The irony being that Reed is writing 'pure' pop (as in 'popular') or "accesible" music with lyrical content/imagery that is anything but. "Walk on the Wild Side" is the best example of this.
Loaded is full of irony and I don't think Lou ever thought that "Who Loves theSun" or that silly spoken passage in "I Found a Reason" or "Cool it Down" would ever endear him to a mass audience. Lou is more conventional than John Cale, yes, but that's only because Reed was always writing the only kind of music he truly understood--pop music. Loaded is not as superficial as you make it out to be. Reed wanted commercial success, sure--all the greats did, but at the same time he made it hard on himself by clinging to his idiosyncracies.
We could go on and on, Ben, but it's late.

Year Of Release: 1985
Record rating = 7
Overall rating = 10

Various quality outtakes; generally overrated by the critics, this is still a must for all Velvet fans.
Best song: I CAN'T STAND IT

This one's been quite often hailed as the 'Great Lost blah blah blah', but it certainly depends on what exact sense you include in the expression. Me, I suppose that to a certain extent it is great, not to mention lost (and found), but I can't help comparing these outtakes to the four studio regulars and the subsequent recordings of many of them on some of Lou Reed's solo albums, and a slightly noticeable 'eeh' escapes my lips. Now and then...
See, when these outtakes, most of them destined for the Underground's fifth regular album that never happened due to Lou's and the band's record company's obstinacy, were discovered by the record company in the early Eighties, the world was already hungry for more fresh Velvets' recordings, and the critics and the public fell upon them and extracted them and praised them with the highest praise. How could they do otherwise? By then, everybody with a more or less significant status in rock music had already proclaimed themselves descended directly - if not from Lou Reed's guitar, then from John Cale's viola. The album and its successor, Another View, were bound to be deified. But never worry - here I go to save the world and debunk the myth!
A clear example of how much this album is overrated is how all the critics who used to praise Lou Reed's solo albums suddenly turn their backs on him and say that all of these outtakes are superior to the later versions on Lou's solo albums. Dude, if that's how it really is, either I don't deserve to live or everybody else has got cotton wads in their ears. More probably, nobody has ever really compared the two groups of songs. To my notion, at least five of the ten songs on here have later been included by Lou on his solo projects: 'I Can't Stand It', 'Ocean', and 'Lisa Says' ended up on his debut album (Lou Reed), 'Andy's Chest', as everybody knows, got re-recorded for Transformer, and 'She's My Best Friend' turned out to be put on Coney Island Baby - six years after the 'rough mix' of VU. And, all right, so 'Ocean' kinda sucks: but it sucks on both versions, and at least the one on Lou Reed has enough 'static power' to make it seem impressive.
But 'I Can't Stand It'? It begins its life on VU as a catchy, solid, but very crude demo (and what's with that drum sound? I bet you anything it was re-recorded in the Eighties - it sounds electronically enhanced!), only to be tightened up and hardened up on Lou Reed to make a truly unforgettable experience. 'Lisa Says'? Great song, but who on earth would prefer the hoarse, out of tune screams 'Lisa sa-a-a-a-a-ys' on the VU version to the moody, gentle, so unbelievably charming 'Lisa says... oh noooo... Lisa says' of Lou Reed. (It's the 'oh no' part I miss so much, understand that). Same thing goes for 'Andy's Chest' and 'She's My Best Friend'. The overall problem with all these versions is understandable: They Are Not Moody. That's very important. On Lou's solo records, all of these songs took over an independent, breathing life of their own - small autonomous worlds in their own rights. Here, it's just a bunch of solid, guitar-driven demo versions with interesting, but not ideal melodies. I'll admit that 'She's My Best Friend' may be a bit more catchy and bouncy than on the slow, dreary version on Coney Island Baby, but it's also more generic (Mark Prindle said it reminded him of the Association, and I couldn't agree more).
But don't get me wrong. This is still quite a good little record. Quite simply, there ain't a single truly bad song here - and so, if you're afraid of the Velvets' weirdness, this will be the natural thing to buy after the self-titled record and Loaded. All of the above-mentioned songs, with the possible exception of 'Ocean' and 'She's My Best Friend', are still first-rate material, and that's not all.
Only two of the tracks here date to the Cale era, but it shows: 'Stephanie Says' is a gorgeous ballad that reminds me a little of 'Sunday Morning' because the melodies are similar (yet it's not a rip-off) and there's a glockenspiel part on both, but it's also highlighted by some moving, strangely inobtrusive violin playing by John, and it's a great highlight of the band's 'softest' side. And 'Temptation Inside Your Heart' has Lou and Sterling Morrison exchange some bizarre dialogue lines in between the lines of the song (which is a rather generic rocker by itself), such as 'Motown! You don't look like Martha and the Vandellas' and 'Lock the door this time', which roll on at great speed and great fun.
As for the Doug era, there's some more angry rock'n'roll (the never ending, but quite infuriating 'Foggy Notion'), some more routine, but pleasant pop ('One Of These Days'), and even a Moe Tucker-sung album conclusion - a great three-chord piano ballad called 'I'm Sticking With You' that she sings in the same childish, naive, charming little 'voicelet' of hers. In other words, the record's pretty diverse, and hardcore fans will definitely get a blast out of it. I do like it - get this, I do like it - but I do have the complaint I just voiced. The album's not finished, and that is a bad thing: turns out that the Velvets did depend on the arrangements and production after all, no matter how people like to emphasize the rawness and 'purity' of their sound. Get this record at all costs, but I wouldn't really advise you to do that until you've assimilated the first two Lou Reed solo albums - at least, that way you won't be accused of giving in to all the hype.

I'm sticking with you, but only if you mail your ideas

Your worthy comments:

Victor J Chang <vchang@umail.ucsb.edu> (06.03.2000)

Some quick fact-checking...
The songs on VU were actually remnants of the lost FOURTH album (rec. circa 1969 - some of the other tracks are on the Another View collection) - after the failure of The Velvet Underground, Verve/MGM rejected the fourth album and kicked them off the label, and then they went on to Atlantic records and recorded Loaded. (See site below for more info)
Also - "Caroline Says II" on Lou Reed's Berlin is a rewrite of "Stephanie Says" on VU.
Lastly: a VERY good website for VU info.

Which is to say "John Cale". And possibly, only temporarily. I have already set up a special page for Lou Reed, as his solo career went far, far away from the original Velvets' sounds, styles and what-not. As for Cale, he's also had a prolific career, and even though he's not as well-known and revered as Lou, being more of an esoteric cult musician, that doesn't mean he isn't deserving a special page. The man had a crucial importance in developing the Velvets' early experimental brand of sound, and when he went out on a solo career, he proved not to have lost the experimental spirit, with tons of excourses into modern classical, fusion, and various subgenres of rock. He certainly deserves more than he gets - somehow people prefer to concentrate on Lou and forget all about John. My current Cale collection is far from perfect, but so far I like what I have; I may be significantly adding to it in the future.
I do not know anything about the possible solo ventures of either Sterling Morrison or Doug Yule. Amazingly, Moe Tucker did have some solo records out, most of them in the Nineties, I recall; if I ever see them very cheap, I might even give them a chance.
I have also tacked what few solo Nico albums I have onto the bottom of the page; believe me, they are quite worthy.

FEAR

Year Of Release: 1974
Overall rating = 12

John is normal, John is normal! He's also attractive and diverse, trying out styles as if they were toothpaste brands...
Best song: GUN

By 1974 Cale all but abandoned the 'no-bull-experimental' approach to making music, especially after his early Seventies' modern classical efforts brought him next to no audience except for dedicated cult followers. Not that Fear was a bestseller, of course; but it's still one of John's most critically laudable albums, and for good reason. When I first bought it, I thought it would be something spooky beyond recognition. And my suspicions were all but groundless, considering it was my first acquaintance with John's solo career. Just put all the facts together: the most vicious experimentator in the rows of the Velvet Underground puts out a record called Fear on which he's pictured in black and white, no smile, hell, no expression at all. He also teams up with Eno (credited for 'Eno' on the album!! I mean, it says - 'guitars: Phil Manzanera, John Cale', etc., etc., 'Eno: Eno'), and comes up with song titles like 'Fear Is A Man's Best Friend', 'Gun', and, oh me my God, 'The Man Who Couldn't Afford To Orgy'.
Now let me disappoint those who are looking forward to spend the evening accompanied by an audio analog of the creepiest horror flick in existence. All of these things are deceiving - this is a peaceful, quiet album, full to the brink with stripped-down arrangements, sad, melancholic piano/acoustic ballads, very moderate experimental tunes, and only a small ounce of true darkness and paranoia. Eno himself shows up only occasionally, particularly on 'Gun' (and probably 'Barracuda'), and his contributions, as always, are minimalistic and tremendously effective. And the tunes themselves are swell; their only flaw is that none are particularly memorable, as I suddenly figured out after the fourth 'airing' of the record. I understand critics who keep complaining about Cale's songwriting abilities never ranking up there with Lou Reed's: the instrumental melodies are mostly simplistic beyond hope (hell, 'Emily', the most beautiful ballad on the record, is based on, like, an endless repetition of four notes! Figures), and it's not the Beatles-style genial simplicity, too: Cale very rarely scales any epic or cathartic heights. This, however, does not mean that these are tunes you must listen to once or twice and dismiss as 'dated' or 'lightweight'. As we all know, Cale has a musical lingo of his own, somewhat similar to but also somewhat different from Lou Reed's, and Fear is an excellent example. Basically, John just grabs a bunch of musical genres and styles and throws them all together in a fascinating melting pot. Meaningless? Perhaps. Senseless? Probably. Hopelessly out of time? Definitely, but that's what makes the record so much more exciting today.
So what do we have here? 'Fear Is A Man's Best Friend' is vintage Cale, his own inimitable style based on a simple piano pattern with haunting psycho imagery strewn over it: 'Darkness warmer than a bedroom floor/Want someone to hold me close forever more/I'm a sleeping dog, but you can't tell/When I'm on the prowl you'd better run like hell', and the classic word of pessimism to end it all - 'Fear is a man's best friend/You add it up it brings you down'. I'm not exactly pleased by the way he howls out the refrain over and over again at the end of the tune when the music has already faded away, but that's a matter of taste and tolerance. But if this track can be said to represent Cale's true face (note - I'm not sure about that), then nothing else on the album does.
What can be said of 'Buffalo Ballet'? A country-western song of lament for the vast plains of America and the buffalos exterminated by choo-choo trains? (The melody is ripped off from Dylan's 'Knockin' On Heaven's Door', but hey, you never heard me say that...) Is it Cale? The violas are probably Cale, but little else is; yet the tune is beautiful, peaceful and majestic, even if it never reaches the devastating effect of the 'original'. And what about the above-mentioned 'Emily'? The Velvet Underground? A powerful operatic ballad it is, slightly reminiscing of an underarranged Queen song (only better), with stately ocean noises in the background and beautiful, fully suitable female backing voices on the 'maybe we'll love again' chorus. Then again, somebody might probably compare it to Sinatra. I suppose I'll just cut out the comparisons, thank you very much... 'The Man Who Couldn't Afford To Orgy' turns out to be a jolly, somewhat hilarious 'pseudo-doo-wop' ditty with sexy female overdubs and a philosophical message - turns out that we're supposed to pity the actual fellow. 'You Know More Than I Know' is 'Emily Volume 2', but just as pretty - perfect mood music for those who can't tolerate ambient and who are too tasteful to be entertained by Phil Collins.
There are some rabble-rousing tracks on here, too: Cale does pay his dues to loudness and electronis psychopathy. Then again, it's not just Cale. On 'Momamma Scuba' it's Cale paying tribute to Morrison - truthfully, he sounds exactly like Jim, and the song's 'tribal' character only emphasizes the analogy. And 'Barracuda' is Cale paying tribute to good old España, peppered with Eno and spiced up with just a trifle dissonance. This is also the place where you'll finally encounter the main proof that this is a Cale recording - a nearly-atonal, feedbacky violin solo. But if you're still hungry after the Velvets, look forward to the album's centerpiece - the eight-minute 'Gun'. This is where Cale really rocks out, first time since he left the band in 1968. The tune might be, in fact, viewed as a logical successor to 'Sister Ray', except that it's shorter, more explicit (the lyrics are sung from the point of view of a, ahem, mutilated outlaw), and supposedly features Phil Manzanera on the crazyass guitar solos, so it has more chances to put you into a trance than 'Sister Ray' ever had.
In this way, Fear turns out to be just about the best introduction to Cale's solo work: diverse, entertaining and rich with musical and emotional content, even if short on catchy melodies. It also heralds a series of firsts - Cale's re-appearance as a credible, sincere rocker, for one, and maybe even more important - the beginning of his long-time association with Eno. The two geniuses of Bizarre Sonic Textures have finally met each other and they couldn't go wrong; over the next twenty years, they would often collaborate on each other's records.

You know more than I know, I suppose. So mail your ideas

HELEN OF TROY

Year Of Release: 1975
Overall rating = 10

Cale's glam/show-off-eeee peak. But there's too much ambition here, and too few original musical ideas for my taste.
Best song: MY MARIA

This record put Cale on the border of the crevasse: one more step, and it took him six years to get out of the mess he was in. The fact that he's pictured in a strait jacket on the cover is no small coincidence - I don't exactly have any information on whether he was really suffering from serious drugs or mental illness at the time, but he might as well have been; during one of the shows that were supposed to promote his record, he incidentally (maybe not) decapitated a live chicken on stage, thus on one hand predicting the future debacles of Ozzy Osbourne and on the other hand sending his own career all topsy-turvy. He was deserted by his own backing band and eventually retired to quiet producer work, not to record another studio album until the Eighties.
More important, Helen Of Troy really captures John on a downwards slide. After the weird mood panorama on Fear and the glam showman posturings on Slow Dazzle (which I don't have, but have read about), he continues in the same vein. Helen is a loud, dazzling album, with lots of screeching and growling guitars, grizzly Enotronics, and plenty of Cale's paranoid, all-encompassing vocals. The problem is that the record is far less substantial than Fear: beneath all the glam and the atmospherics, there are very few interesting melodies. And even worse, this time around John isn't really able to get away with it relying on the atmospherics alone. Because the atmosphere of this album is generic: there is very little interesting experimentation, and many of the songs have a fake and artificial feel to them. Basically, what I don't like is the fact that I really don't know what to do with the album and how I should justify its existence. No memorable melodies, no visible innovation, and fake, trumped up emotionality a la early Seventies' David Bowie - isn't this the typical formula for a crappy glam album?
It is, and therefore, Helen Of Troy can in no way qualify as one of Cale's better products. That said, I still give it a ten because most of the songs are at least vaguely interesting; after all, Cale is such an incredibly talented and unpredictable fellow that even the worst of his records are always enough to at least stir a slight sparkle of interest. And I also like to think of this album as a record that closes up an epoch. Funny coincidence, but the same month Eno released his Another Green World; doesn't that suggest some epoch-defining ideas? Figure it out if you have some free time.
Two of the songs are covers - and, while Cale's version of Jimmy Reed's classic 'Baby What You Want Me To Do' is overlong, clumsy, badly arranged and in brief, just butchers all the charm of the original, I couldn't say the same of 'Pablo Picasso'. Yeah, you probably know that one. A Jonathan Richman and the Modern Lovers song, isn't it? The funny thing is that, while Richman recorded the song as early as 1973, the album on which it was recorded was never released until three years later, and that means that the notorious line 'Pablo Picasso never got called an asshole, not like you' was first heard by the general public from the reverend mouth of Mr Cale, not Mr Richman. By the way, Cale does the song perfect justice, solidifying the melody with several overdubbed guitars and croaking out the vocals with absolute conviction - what a blessing for the upcoming 'punk revolution'.
And now, what about the originals? Hit and miss. The more powerful, arena-rock standards are actually decent, with at least one half-great number opening the record: the blatantly anti-religious and anti-war 'My Maria'. Cale sings so pathetically and the angelic backing vocals are so beautiful, while the grumbling, distorted riffs underpinning the song are so strong and stylistically so out of place, that it's enough to make a lasting impression. Likewise, 'Save Us' is scary and disturbing, a dark apocalyptic prayer with spooky organs and nervous, dissonant percussion rhythms (by the way, Phil Collins plays drums on some of the tracks). And the orchestrated arrangement of 'I Keep A Close Watch' is also majestic and stately... except for the fact that it very closely reminds me of some Ringo Starr tune I can't exactly remember. Which is not that surprising: stylistically, the song is a power pop piece with strong elements of what later would be deemed as 'adult contemporary'. Go figure.
Everything else is either okay, distinguished by just one or two worthy factors, or completely forgettable - even if nothing is exactly bad. The title track is only saved from its self-parodic posturings by funny synth-horns and Eno's weird airplane noises and whatchamacallit; 'Coral Moon' has a superb funky bassline; 'Sudden Death', true to its name, takes you at unawares with its unexpected viciousness after the more or less steady and inoffensive flow of the record; and 'Leaving It Up To You', a track with provocative lyrics that was originally banned from the album in the States and replaced by 'Coral Moon' (as you can see, both are now present on the record), is only redeemed by the lyrics themselves and Cale's hysteria, maybe the only genuine piece of F-E-E-L-I-N-G on the album.
The other tracks just pass by kinda unnoticed, and I'm not in the mood to discuss them now. Buy the album, you motherfuckers. (:)(:) And remember, never do an extravagant album that turns out to be devoid of ideas. It all comes back to people in the end. This is a perfect example of a talented artist overabusing modern trends: he still has enough forces and talent to make the album not sound completely boring, but he's not strong enough to break the circle, either. Bummer.

Leaving it up to you to mail your ideas

CHELSEA GIRL

Year Of Release: 1967
Overall rating = 11

Icy and beautiful indeed - can we call this 'gorgeous goth'?
Best song: THESE DAYS

Before starting off this particular review, let me set up a filter. Number one: do NOT buy this album, do NOT read this review without first having heard The Velvet Underground & Nico. Number two: do NOT even think of buying this album, do NOT even try reading this review if you have an inborn allergy towards Nico's voice and general stylistics with no chance of a cure. To be quite frank, I don't have even the least idea of why Nico is the most universally despised female performer in rock, perhaps only sharing the first place with Yoko Ono on occasion, but I already expressed my wonders, doubts, and what few reasonable arguments I have in support of the poor girl, in the VU & Nico review, so I'm not going to repeat myself.
That warning being made, this album absolutely rules, at least, for the major part of its fourty-six minutes. It didn't even have to grow on me - I fell in passionate love with it right away. Since it was recorded in mid-1967, just on the brink of Nico's parting with the Velvets (I'm not even sure if it was recorded after they went their own ways), the style is much similar to the one used on VU & Nico, and both Reed and Cale took part in the recording sessions, the first one contributing guitar and the second one throwing in some orchestration and 'psychedelic violins'. Moe Tucker isn't present, because there are actually no drums on the whole album at all: it's all just folkish acoustic strumming with a few 'modern classical' minimalistic arrangements. Because of that, the songs might seem slightly monotonous, but not more so than on your average folk album.
The actual songwriting is more or less equally split in between Cale, Reed, and, of all things, Jackson Browne; amazingly, Browne's three contributions to the record are all pleasant, emotional and highly memorable. Nico herself definitely isn't a songwriter, and her only songwriting credit on here is the only crying disaster on the album: the eight-minute dissonant horror of 'It Was A Pleasure Then'. This 'song' looks completely out of place on the album, because in general, everything on here is melodic, smooth and pleasant to the ear. When 'Pleasure' suddenly comes on in the middle of the show, it's like a bucket of cold water: slow discordant mantraic chanting over a barrage of violin feedback and ugly guitar noises. It's far worse than even the worst VU excesses, because it's a track that is intentionally ugly, and ugly in the ugliest sense of the word: using passages that are plain anti-musical. The track actually cost the album an entire rating point - please, do me a favour and program it out as soon as you get the album.
Everything else is at the least beautiful and atmospheric, and at best gorgeous beyond words. Reed and Cale do a great job at providing some of the most suitable instrumentation for Nico's voice, and often come close to matching the "icy beauty" of such VU highlights as 'Femme Fatale' or 'I'll Be Your Mirror'. An obvious highlight, for instance, is 'Chelsea Girls', a song dealing with the hardship and toil of girls in a public house - hardly a surprising lyrical matter for Reed - which goes on for seven minutes while you hardly ever notice it (for contrast, every one of the eight minutes of 'It Was A Pleasure Then' seems to last longer than Roosevelt's four terms to me). The flute and orchestration create a sad, melancholic mood, and the wonderful 'here they come now, see them run now, here they come now - Chelsea girls' refrain really makes one feel pity for said girls. While we're at it, I'd like to notice that this was one element sorely lacking on the Velvets' debut album: they sang so freely and with gusto about "unspoken" topics, but there was never really any true emotional power in Reed's description of those topics, rather a peculiar delight and kinky delectation. A song like 'Chelsea Girls' would have made a great addition to VU & Nico, yet for some reason Reed and Morrison (the authors) preferred to donate it to Nico's solo album. Oh well, perhaps they didn't want to sissy up their image?
Other highlights include Browne's 'The Fairest Of The Seasons', a beautiful ballad that's as stately and majestic as could be, not to mention a terrific vocal melody, and Browne's 'These Days', a quirky little folk ditty that sounds rather humble as compared to the "anthems" on here, but that's just the song's charm: it's homely, cozy, and very introspective. And, of course, when you set a humble introspective song like that to the vocal chords of a German singerine, thus combining an inborn "goth grandeur" with typical Anglo-Saxon "debasedness", the contrast and interaction of the two moods is amazing; you'll hardly hear anything like that on any other record in existence. Say, perhaps you should buy this album after all... even if you hate Nico's voice?
I won't be naming the other songs (okay, just two - there's a very nice cover of Dylan's 'I'll Keep It With Mine' here, too, and she also gets a take on Tim Hardin's 'Eulogy To Lenny Bruce'; apparently, Nico was a big Lenny Bruce fan), but suffice it to say that while they don't exactly match the power and emotional force of the ones I already listed, none of them are bad, and that wonderful "German goth vs. American folk" atmosphere is omnipresent. Apart from the murky horror of 'It Was A Pleasure', then, and the unnecessary Nico-mystifying liner notes by Pat Patterson, this is a true minor miracle of a record, even if it's hardly "rock music" or "folk music" in any traditional sense. Oh, and, by the way, it also seems to be the most accessible of all Nico albums (at least, all the good and respected ones), so it also looks like a good way to start with the gal. That is, if you don't have any biases towards German voices.

These days you don't seem to be mailing your ideas all too often

DESERTSHORE

Year Of Release: 1971
Overall rating = 10

I kinda dig the Goth atmosphere, but the lack of even relative diversity brings it down real quickly.
Best song: JANITOR OF LUNACY

If you thought Can were spooky, take a listen to this. Yeah, this is still Nico singing, but this sounds years away from Chelsea Girl. Maybe her debut album was stern and depressing, but compared to Desertshore it's more cheerful than Sha Na Na. This record is not just dark: it's chilling and diabolic, Goth music taken to the extreme, and I can hardly imagine a situation in one's life when putting on Desertshore would help one solve any personal problems. Well, sometimes it helps to put on something gloomy and depressing - for instance, when you're let down by the world and need someone or something to identify with - but Desertshore is a record whose practical use is undeniably limited to suicidal cases.
Now that I have probably intrigued you with such a gruesome intro, let me tell you that the record is not even all that good - Nico would go on to more convincing things in a few years. The material can hardly be called "songs", more like medieval chanting, all of it dirge-style and in a minor key, with just one exception: the silly one-minute throwaway 'Le Petit Chevalier', sung by some frightened and shy kid in French to a harpsichord background. I don't know who the kid is, but sure as hell ain't Nico herself. It hardly fits in with the rest anyway, but at least it provides a minute's relaxation in between the pounding gloom of the other tunes.
The instrumentation is also quite suitable: the most prominent instrument is an out of tune harmonium, played by Nico herself; it is probably supposed to imitate a church organ, although I don't understand why they couldn't have found a real church organ itself. All the other instruments are provided by John Cale (quite predictably, Nico's most trusty partner throughout the years), which includes pianos, harpsichords, occasional backing vocals and - you guessed it - dissonant violin screeching. Thankfully, he only abuses the poor string instrument on a couple of tracks, otherwise sticking to keyboards.
Now I don't really have anything against such an approach in particular; I am able to appreciate goth music if it's delivered with taste and intelligence, and this one certainly is. Nico's lyrics (by the way, she wrote everything on the album herself - which explains the lack of melodies, for one) are tolerable and quite in the German tradition without relying too heavily on cliches; she even contributes two tracks in German, said to be taken from the soundtrack to some obscure movie. And her minimalistic approach is also brilliant - you won't find any other record which would manage to recreate the stern atmosphere of death and desperation with just a poorly-played harmonium and singing. But over the course of the album, this approach also wears you down and occasionally bores you, as there are way too few musical ideas to keep it up with the atmosphere.
This is probably why I regard the opening track, 'Janitor Of Lunacy', with just the above-described minimalistic approach (harmonium/vocals arrangement), as the best number on the record. Just because it's the first, and so the best par excellence. I also dig the lyrics: 'Janitor of lunacy/Paralyze my infancy/Petrify the empty cradle/Bring hope to them and me'. I mean, the first three lines are all right, but how can one be expected to bring hope by paralyzing and petrifying? Sounds like a little tongue-in-cheek black humour here.
Out of the other songs, I'm particularly fond of 'Afraid', whose gentle piano melody also relieves the tension a little bit; it's just a little loving ballad, with a little loving violin line (not dissonant at all) and Nico's vocals finally showing some tenderness after all the sterile winterish Viking lady deliveries. But the album closer, 'All That Is My Own', is also a highlight - perhaps the most depressing and 'heavy' number on the record after 'Janitor Of Lunacy'. Its sound is rather delicately woven from several different parts - harmonium, unobtrusive trumpet notes, thumping faraway percussion, rhythmic harpsichord ringing and above all, Cale's 'floating violins' with a sound very akin to the one used on 'Venus In Furs', while Nico sings a simplistic melody that's even more terrifying that way and alternates it with echo-laden pieces of mystic declamation (including the 'meet me on the desert shore' line, from where the album title is taken).
Still, all the praises are relative - the record is highly consistent in its overall mood, and the individual songs begin to stand out only after repeated listenings, as is the real charm and attraction of the album, actually. The importance of Cale to the creation of this music is hard to overestimate, either: without his collaboration, Nico would just be something like a second-rate German Leonard Cohen - that is, an expressive poet whose only relation to "music" is in that he/she is trying to sing the verses instead of reciting them and needs some rudimentary musical background for that purpose. But Cale brings in the pianos and violins and makes this a true musical experience, for which I am grateful. In the end. Yet it is obvious that this was one of the earliest experiments in the goth genre, and over the years it's become somewhat dated; I can only imagine with what sincere dread did people perceive this music back in 1971. Today it is obvious that in stressing the atmosphere, they forgot all about the essence, or, more exactly, didn't have the time or wish to find enough essence.
Yet, on still another hand, the record is short - and it could have been a double album, why not? - and it's not all that hard to sit through. Just don't make the mistake of listening to it on the day your girlfriend leaves you with another, because it is said to cultivate suicidal tendencies in the organism. Yeah, I know I'm kidding, but "in every joke resides a part of the truth", now do you not agree?

Afraid to mail your ideas, are you?

Your worthy comments:

Olaf <olaf@tref.nl> (23.07.2000)

1. 'Le Petit Chevalier' is sung by Nico and Alain Delon's son Ari.
2. Nico simply loved the harmonium and carried it around anywhere she went. Great live instrument too, and she probably never intended it to sound like a churchorgan.
3. Her best album must be The Marble Index.
4. If you already think Desertshore is spooky, forget about The Marble Index. It's even darker.
5. I'm not suicidal, yet I love all of Desertshore with the exeption of 'Le Petit Chevalier'.

THE END

Year Of Release: 1974
Overall rating = 12

A terrific Goth piece of work, with enough diversity and atmosphere this time - well, Eno is contributing, after all.
Best song: IT HAS NOT TAKEN LONG

Nico's masterpiece - and I reiterate that you hear this from the mouth of a person who hates goth as a genre. But I mostly hate it because there are so many cheap imitators who think they're doing something truly scary and atmospheric when in fact it's just second-rate rubbish along the lines of those monster movies that Frank Zappa used to ridiculize in songs like 'Cheapnis'. I bet you anything he wouldn't dare ridiculize Nico, though.
Why is The End better than her previous efforts? After all, it's just the same atmospheric sonic experience laden with Nico's "Storm Trooper vocals" (Brian Burks' sarcastic epithet) with a serious lack of melodies; not a single tune on here is catchy in any sense of the word, because there's nothing to catch. But it's all right: this is a record that screams "We Go For Atmosphere", and as far as purely atmospheric records go, this beats out the majority of Pink Floyd's works for sure.
The main difference is that the album is not so underproduced as its predecessors. Nico still plays her harmonium, and Cale still acts as her spiritual and technical guru, but he throws in tons more instrumentation than before, experimenting with all kinds of weird percussion and bringing in a whole battery of keyboards. Even more, they have drafted in both Brian Eno and Phil Manzanera, and the two provide some invaluable services: Eno, as usually, contributes the gloomy synthesizer background and otherworldly noises such as Cale could only dream of, while Manzanera occasionally delivers scorching guitar parts that for a short while seem somewhat out of place... but only for a while. They do add a lot to the sound.
Yet another factor is the lyrics - Nico seems keen on making everything sound morose to the extreme and adds extreme bleakiness and even cruelty to the lyrics that were previously just, well, mystical. The songs abound with images of death and destruction, violation, rape and perversion, yet every word is thought out so carefully that it never strikes you as banal. Here are some lines from 'Secret Side', for instance: 'Without a guide, without a hand/Unwed virgins in the land/Tied up on the sand/When there come ships into their land/They'll be awaiting reverence/At their children's hands/Are you not loyal to your pride?/Are you not on the secret side?/It's not a crime, a game to you,/Do you not understand?' Rumor has it that Nico was once raped by an American G.I. (although the rumour was probably false, spread by Nico herself as she liked to do quite often), and this is somehow reflected in the song. Er, well, whatever. But it does sound interesting, and within the actual song it really sends icy chills down your spine.
'It Has Not Taken Long' opens the album with a winterish synthesizer background and some 'glockenspiel percussion' from Cale, while Nico recites the dreadful lyrics (seem to be about raping again, but I'm not too sure this time) as some powerful wicked sorceress of old; 'Janitor Of Lunacy', as good an opener as it was on Desertshore, pales before the desperation and grim ominous mood of this song. 'Secret Side' carries us a little bit towards the light due to Eno's sparkling synth loops that lift up the veil of depression and terror set by Nico with her 'unwed virgins' stories; but the terror never really passes away completely, not even in the 'lightest' number - the rather simple piano ballad 'You Forgot To Answer'. It's a love song, but a song of lost/unshared love - and even so, it sounds like a reworked variation on an excerpt from Bach's 'Passions', so any true emotionality that may be contained therein is gruesomely let through the filter of the 'stone cold German heart' and crushes the listener rather than moves him. Is this a good or a bad thing? You decide...
Eno fully acquires the reins on 'Innocent And Vain', with an apocalyptic swirl of evil synth noises both opening and closing this harmonium-led track that, as some people suggest, deals with Nico's imaginary raper ('my favourite gladiator'), but is hardly truly decipherable in the lyrics division. The synth noises, though, have to be heard to be believed - not even during his stay in Roxy Music, when Eno used to employ as much ugly noises and demonic bleeps as possible, did he actually manage to do so much damage to the instrument.
The real surprises, however, come in near the album's end - come in with 'The End', actually, as the title track is indeed a cover of the Doors' epic, and only then do you start to realise that the album was actually planned to revolve around this inventive reworking. I still can't decide if I like Nico's version or not, as it's about a trillion times less musical than the Doors' own, but one thing's for sure: nobody in the whole wide world could be more appropriate for covering the number than Nico, in fact, over the course of its nine minutes I sometimes catch myself thinking that the song was originally intended for her. After singing about death and mystical subjects for so long, here's her chance on identifying herself with Jim, and she pulls it off. The 'backing band' doesn't even wonder about playing, they just sit around making 'dark noises' (only in the last part they actually start to play something real dissonant with Manzanera as lead player), but it doesn't matter - Nico's voice is what makes the number which now concentrates on death and decay subjects rather than Oedipus' complex, because the sacred line 'mother I want to fuck you' is omitted in favour of some hoarse vocal noises... yeah, probably corresponding to these very suspension points in the graphic version.
And the record closes with Nico's rendition of the 'Deutschland Deutschland ueber alles" Nazi anthem - a rather silly move in retrospect, because there was really no need to abuse concrete Germanic symbolism on this album, but a move that's completely forgivable: what a better way to end the album by deep-shocking the audience than to turn in this leaden, solemn and eerie performance? It works as a clever conceptual detail, and makes a cute little postscriptum to the album's striking perversity and "offensiveness", even if I'm not enchanted by it as I am by most of the other songs. Yeah, this is nothing but atmosphere, but it's excellent, "distilled" atmosphere, and The End gotta rank there along with some of the greatest "proto-ambient" material by such a band as Can and such a sound wiz as Eno (in fact, I don't really know anything else that could compare). Not only that, it's "proto-goth", and in that way was obviously a huge influence on everybody from said Eno to The Cure and later on; further proof to the fact that almost every genre and sub-genre of the Eighties/Nineties can be traced back to the golden period of 1966-75. If you're a tolerant kind of dude, then check it out, it's definitely worth your time and money.

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Olaf <olaf@tref.nl> (23.07.2000)

A bit of history: 'Das Lied der Deutschen' is just the German national anthem, and there is nothing Nazistic about it, although some people prefer to see it like that anyway. To those people this song might be very provocative, but in fact the sentence "Deutschland Deutschland uber alles" refers to the partition of Germany in many different states at the time the song was written by the liberal Von Fallersleben. It's a song that calls for union, telling the German people they have more similarities than differences and should stop being eachother's enemies. Nothing wrong with it really...
[Special author note: actually, it should be noted that Nico sings the complete text of the song, including the first verse referring to Germany's former territorial boundaries and banned from the text of the song after 1945. In its full version, the anthem was only used from 1922 to 1945, with half of that period falling on the Nazi period; people don't usually call it 'Nazi anthem' for nothing...]