Considering the legacy of The Velvet Underground & Nico, it is staggering that it also marked the band’s debut. Every album, even Squeeze, is the stuff of legend. Everything about The Velvet Underground is rebellion in action. Not one moment of it feels at all like it is bound for success, for innovation. Yet the mood and tone of The Velvet Underground & Nico, the sense of revolution heard on it even now, is unavoidable. Where the band would improve on their follow-up works and capitulate entirely on their last, in name only that is, The Velvet Underground’s self-titled debut is one of the big moments in music history. Irrespective of its quality, regardless of its jagged edges and its not-quite-there moments, the pieces which do work, like Sunday Morning and Heroin, are beyond the pale.
Opener Sunday Morning remains as effective as it always was, a twinkling start which gives no indication of the turmoil and disparity to come through the rough instrumentals of the follow-up I’m Waiting for the Man. The out-of-rhythm keys, the monotone voice and all the strutting confidence of a band burning through their influences and their patience. The Velvet Underground & Nico is a staggering piece of work not just because of its status. Even without it, it remains a leftfield, outsider powerhouse with a brilliant charm. Often these moments come through as croaking, smoke-filled efforts like Femme Fatale, but their representations, their conviction and venomous intent are monumental. Stiff playing, those sinister stones building from Femme Fatale to Venus In Furs, is a remarkable achievement. Costumes and shady characters are all the rage for The Velvet Underground. Those interesting characters, never quite knowable but always on the fringe, drift through this. Such is the influence of an Andy Warhol party.
Wailing guitar lines on Run Run Run are the make-or-break moment for those experiencing The Velvet Underground & Nico. From there it is a matter of waiting, biding time before a heavy hitter like Heroin. That is not a slight on All Tomorrow’s Parties, but it pales in comparison to the frank and forthright punch of Heroin. Art-rock brilliance lingers the whole way through. Sometimes on the fringes of a more straightforward track like the delightful punchiness of There She Goes, but often in the spotlight. Tones of love and hate brought to a head and turned inside out, the sick and twisted mass of tissue and filth on display. The Velvet Underground & Nico knows its way to the heart is through the mouth and its graphic, often explosive dialogue, is always a treat.
As haunting as it was on first release, as tender and terrifying and it will always be that way. Sizzling frustrations on The Black Angel’s Death Song come to a head, the year-long delay, the Warhol effect, all of it bubbles over and is forever a part of The Velvet Underground & Nico. Whatever the impact it had on those who bought the album, it remains a strong listen irrespective of its influence. Primitive, pre-punk-like playing on closer European Son, seals it. Roaring noise, broken glass and the complete combustion of a band which was, to their credit, meant to burn out long before they made it to their fourth album, let alone a follow-up to this magnificent beast. A creation like no other. A true staple of art-rock, but the charm comes from its arrogance, its flippant nature and its design against pop music of the times.
I always enjoy listening to this. It sounds as great today as it’s always been.
I bought the LP when it first came out, peeled off the label (the banana was pink inside) and listened to it for the first of many hundreds of times. At age 76, I still listen to it at high volume, something my own children grew up getting used to, remarking, “Dad and his Velvet Underground refuse to grow old!”
Still in love with Nico after all these years!