The Velvet Underground - The Velvet Underground & Nico (Retrospectator #2)

Every so often on my blog I'll be taking a look at a classic album from anytime over 15 years ago and seeing how it holds up today, as well as how important it was for its time and the influence it may or may not have had. I've named this series Retrospectator, and having spent the last post taking a look at Depeche Mode's debut album Speak And Spell. Similarly to how I'm choosing to do things with that band, I'll be forcing myself to listen to one album of theirs at a time in preparation for the review. This way of doing things means I'll essentially be "unlocking" the next record in their discography once I've reviewed the previous one, and it means I'll be experiencing their music in the same order that someone of the time would have.

So, first things first, why The Velvet Underground? Well, primarily it's due to the fact that I've heard nothing but praise for this band not just as an extremely experimental and forward thinking one but also as a huge influence on punk, new wave and alternative music, countless bands and critics citing their love for the classic Velvet Underground albums as a source for inspiration and comparison on numerous occasions. Of course, going into this thing blind has so far given my the luxury of no foresight, as I have no idea or comparison to make of the direction they took their music after their debut. Now, without further ado, let's get into the review...

On my first listen to this album, I was immediately stunned in several places by the record's abrasiveness, beauty, wit and especially its depth. I suffered what can only be described as a bit of a sensory overload, not due to the density of the instrumentals so much as the magnitude of references and links my brain was noticing throughout; every single track had several things that I was drawing comparisons to and everything sounded curiously familiar whilst also being tantalising and new. I was perplexed by the contrast between the gorgeous minimalism and what I like to describe as tasteful psychedelics on the opening "Sunday Morning", a track that masterfully sets up expectations with the hope of something brighter to come with the dawn. It may be simple but it's restrained, gentle, pretty. Unfortunately, this hope is deceptive and totally unfounded; the final illusory hope of a fool about to comedown from an unsustainable and self-destructive high. The sad thing is, it isn't even the only time it happens on the album. 

This whole album isn't enveloped by the drug-addled mind of Lou Reed so much as it is the drug-addled mind of Lou Reed, and his predisposition for heroin as a means of escaping his depression is as much the foundations for his perennial pain as it is the foundations of what makes this album so great. You have to realise that at this time, regardless of how many musicians and icons were engrossed with and addicted to the dangerous and drug-infused lifestyle that Lou Reed portrays here, hardly anyone would address the issues with the abundance of drugs and drug addiction. Another aspect of the album I have to commend is the presentation, Lou Reed choosing to portray these stories in various ways, the introspecting and painfully self aware "Heroin" being one, a song that comes complete with Lou's heart breaking nervous laugh after he delivers the line I consider the centrepiece of the album's centrepiece about the drug: "it's my wife and it's my life". Another way that these themes are portrayed is through shifting points of view and the depictions of other characters suffering with the same problems as Lou, "Run Run Run" treading the line between glamorisation and realism between critical verses and the more upbeat chorus.

Going back to the aforementioned "Sunday Morning", I wanted to touch on the instant and startling subversion that song possesses. As a single entity, its endearing hope and pretty atmosphere make it a pleasant enough song to listen to, and it has definitely become one of the primary tracks I listen to outside the context of the album, although it's in full context that I believe it is at its most powerful. On my first listen, I was instantly confused by the more jagged and somewhat country-rock pivot the album takes on "I'm Waiting For The Man", the song that follows "Sunday Morning". Little did I know that it was this song that would allow me to fully appreciate "Sunday Morning" for the staple of dumb-hope it is, and it wasn't until my third or fourth listen that I made the connection that this was a song very much supposed to contrast the rest of the album, a single flicker of early, premature positivity that is slaughtered under the negative weight of the rest of the album. Well, perhaps not the entire rest of the album.

"I'll Be Your Mirror" is a song I'd probably brand as being "sweet" or "sincere" on any other album, but here it's a much needed moment of calm before the album closes out on its two most distorted and noisy tracks. It's a pause in the destructive hedonism and nihilism, a pause from the self-indulgence and depression and a moment of genuine kindness delivered by Nico's shyly angelic vocals. Even being worlds away from anything else on the album in tone and theme, it's an addition I wholeheartedly embrace as a favourite.

Now though, I can't pretend this album is completely perfect. I'm definitely more of a fan of Nico's vocals than Lou Reed's from purely a vocal standpoint, and although Lou's vocals couldn't be replaced on most tracks I do feel as though it would be nice to have more from Nico in the way of vocal performances, especially given how on the three songs where she takes the helm are all easily some of my favourites. "The Black Angel's Death Song" definitely has one of my least favourite vocal performances from Reed on the album, the disjointed instrumental sounding excellently abrasive and functioning perfectly, whilst Reed's pretentious ramblings sound like...well, exactly like pretentious ramblings! It isn't a bad song per se, the hisses of what I can only imagine is a steam engine make for a fantastic burst of sound amidst an admittedly muddy mix. I think it's fair to say that the muddy mixing on this song and others across this album was as much a result of Lou Reed and John Cale's ambitions for a droning, experimental record as it was the lack of time spent producing the album, another reason "Sunday Morning" stands out so abruptly in the tracklist as an example of wonderfully realised and polished production.

This is an album that may have initially failed to meet my expectations, but is one that has grown a great deal over many listens across the last few weeks, my love for the vast majority of the tracklist growing further having looked into some of the background of these tracks. I feel like I understand what Lou Reed and John Cale were trying to do, both sonically and semantically, and I feel like they definitely achieved that with The Velvet Underground & Nico, a debut album that has stood the test of time and become something of a staple of proto-punk, psychedelia, indie rock and noise rock, an album that predated and created so many subgenres and found its way into the hearts of many fans and musicians. Don't listen to the people that tell you this is still experimental by current standards, because it's not. This has gone on to influence so many artists who've experimented further and deeper than The Velvet Underground ever did, and that's okay. It isn't the experimentation that makes this album great anyway, as experimental as it was in its day, but the encapsulation and spot-on delivery of the themes of masochism, depression and addiction through the lyrics and instrumentals. Nothing's perfect, but this album comes damn close at times.

9.7/10

Best Tracks: Sunday Morning; I'm Waiting for the Man; Femme Fatale; Venus in Furs; All Tomorrow's Parties; Heroin; There She Goes Again; I'll Be Your Mirror
Worst Tracks: The Black Angel's Death Song

Watch the video for "Sunday Morning"

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"The Velvet Underground & Nico"
The Velvet Underground

12th March 1967

Verve

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