The Velvet Underground – Squeeze Review

Even the greats have their limits. The Velvet Underground was long finished by the time Squeeze was beaten out of the dead horse that was the band. Flogged for too long after the release of Loaded and still more today, Squeeze is notorious, a genuine misfire from those who meant well. Cut the Crap from The Clash stands tall as a similarly disastrous piece but for different reasons. Squeeze is not a traditional sort of disaster. Those left in The Velvet Underground after Reed was booted from the band were in no position to challenge another chance to perform under the name that still defines them. Where Reed had success with Transformer his bandmates still needed to push on. And yet its very core, the members who made the sound which defined a generation of music and inspired so many, was removed.  

Success was never going to afford itself to a project which is predominantly Doug Yule piecing together what he could. The Velvet Underground at this point was like Yes in its modern iteration. Not a founding member in sight but a few who defined the sound of later releases stuck around. Squeeze’s main trouble is fitting in with the times. The Velvet Underground were such a cornerstone of counter culture in their popular period that hearing them chase a sound closer to The Rolling Stones is shocking. Backing vocalists, a lighter pop swing and the “hoo hoo” of Little Jack ooze the same Jagger-like vocal swings. For the first time in their career, The Velvet Underground found themselves on the back foot – though this outfit cannot be called The Velvet Underground. Without their name on Squeeze, it would be considered relatively fine pop-rock music.  

Take it for what it is, then. Do not let label woes and managerial shortcomings define this. Catchy instrumentals and a love-sapped lyrical consistency keep this half-hour flowing without too much trouble. Twee pieces like Crash feel annoying in their vaudeville style, The Kinks’ influence sucked up and churned out by a directionless artist. And yet it provides one of the more charming moments heard on Squeeze. In moving completely away from the sarcasm-soaked lyrical punches of their earlier works, what remains of The Velvet Underground is an inevitably floundering piece. Searching for a new sound on such short notice is impossible and what comes through is a classless amalgamation of what was popular at the time.

Chasing a sound of the times is never an expression of true artistic merit. Squeeze may feature some slick guitar solos but it is within the context of lazy writing and hollow experimentation. Yule dares discover how The Velvet Underground would sound without a toothy edge to them. Awkwardly reflective in spots like Wordless where a desire to make the listener happy supersedes artistic desire to the hammy adaptations of jukebox-like rock noise on the swinging shortcomings of Send No Letter, Squeeze is out of juice. Despite these shortcomings, there is much to love about Squeeze. It has an agile nature to it, a shapeshifting form which collapses any narrative thread but rewards those who stick around for the instrumental highs of She’ll Make You Cry. All it needed was more support. There is no reason for rage, just indifference to the project it became. A piece of work inspired by, rather than inspiring. Such a turn of form from The Velvet Underground name stings until you apply the volatile context of the times.