Whettlish

The
wonders

of

undersea
exploration...



Rain
in
that

room
looked
a
bird's eye
view...

AHEM! (pretentions)

--------------------Quotes to live by--------------------
"The vintage of defamation is hard earned, at least" - Peter Yearnley

"People think: Oh yes, that's interesting, but we would never actually form any belief in an art. But I think great art is the equivalent of science—you can believe in it equally as much as you can in science. It's very important to believe in the power of the imagination, and not just let the rationalistic function, the logical side of the brain, dominate." - SPK

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Let's have a chat (I'll do all the talking).
Music. One must start somewhere.


So.
After much deliberation: the Velvet Underground.

First.
A Synopsis:

So this whole scenario starts out with Lou and John conspiring as two outlaws (villains)attacking society (the straights), despite previously having been members (and continuing to be members). Soon after album #2 is released, Lou realizes that while he remains a villain, John has become a hero of the highbrow stratum of aforementioned straights, and Lou cannot deal with being the only villain of the band. John is forced out, and Lou makes the material more and more accessible in an attempt at self-deification. It works, but only after making every last concession to the mainstream, resulting in the "timeless" "perfect" album #4 (Loaded--ugh). In the coup de grace, Lou quits the band to embark upon his infamous "solo career" (whatever that means). Oh, but don't worry--since Reed quit instead of firing everyone else, the remaining members (most specifically those people named Yule) were free to take the besmirched VU name to the stars, before dying of a drug overdose at his decadent pleasure palace in Malibu during May of 1978.

Then, of course, the original lineup reunion fiasco (where none of the Yule hits are played out of Reed's contempt), and ensuing re-breakup at Reed's insistence on producing any new recorded material himself, with state-of-the-art, cleaner-than-clean production values. The others balk, and this time there are no people named Yule to step in and steer things right. The thoroughly respectable Sterling Morrison then dies, preventing any further reunion action, just in case some strange, desperate people were still hoping. Some years later, a DVD of some terrible reunion footage is released.

And that seems to be that.

The Velvet Underground do seem to be one of those rare bands that means all things to all people. For those with a noise fetish, there is grating distortion, viola drones, and the occasional bit of guitar mangling so precisely primitive it makes one doubt just how much the group planned all this in advance (according to Sterling Morrison, the band only rehearsed beginnings and endings of songs, leaving the middle sections mostly up to chance on stage--live recordings certainly act as a testament to this). For those fascinated by the subteleties of songcraft, the songs themselves (at least the ones with discernible forms) possess a magiv unlike any other--a certain offhandedness and shy charm despite the more crude aspects of the band's aesthetic. And when the band does sound devilish, they sound joyously so, as though their reward is in the sharing of their blasphemous ideas--putting their negativity out into the void requires such positive affirmation that it makes one question the nature of that negativity.

In fact, they managed to set the template for practically every other band with some sort of interest in things of a darker nature. For instance, taken together, "White Light/White Heat" and Reed's solo "Metal Machine Music" are direct precursors to the punk and industrial genres that arose in the mid-to-late '70s. The latter album is also one of the better embodiments of the principals outlined in John Cage's book Silence. The fact that the four cuts on the album are virtually indistinguishable (sonically) only serves Reed and Cage's purposes that much better--it doesn't need variety to get the point across. Tape hiss, crunch, and distortion are the only means necessary for a statement of intent that is much more vital than "Berlin" or any other of Reed's albums: any sound can be music, and since a sound must be chosen in order to end up on recorded media, a point of view is expressed. Therefore, meaning is inherent in sound, as much (or more) than is possible through linguistic intent. That the meaning is left up to the individual only adds to its power.

The song "Sister Ray" is particularly important. The band's compromise of aural fidelity for musical intensity on the studio version is particularly admirable (especially considering that the detachment of the lyrical story from any particular meaning--these characters' motives are not outlined, so the violence remains cartoonish without any context). However, the VU's live incarnation must be considered with a certain amount of detachment from the studio entity. With the exception of certain tracks (most notably "Sister Ray"), the studio record left behind by the Velvets failed to create a correlative to its live sound.

I could write for hours on the gems of innovation found within the VU catalog, but I would rather recommend that one seeks out any and all live bootlegs of the band that are out there. Aside from the utterly crucial "White Light/White Heat"and moments on album #1, everything of value that the band did was recorded at their concerts, usually without their permission. Excellent compendiums include: "The Legendary Guitar Amp Tapes," "Caught Between the Twisted Stars," and "The Psycopath's Rolling Stones." There simply was no technology existant in the late 60s that could capture the truly intimidating cacaophony that the band produced on stage. "The Legendary Guitar Amp Tapes" consist of a show taped by an audience member right next to Lou Reed's guitar amplifier. The resulting document is as overloaded as they get, and just as exciting. The rest of the band (as well as the vocals) are muffled, but Reed's guitar shines through the mix, and this is an on night for him. The solo on the mammoth "Sister Ray" version here approaches that on "I Heard her Call My Name" for sheer senseless dementia. Even though this is a post-Cale show, the backing band also kick up some sparks (although whoever is on the organ doesn't manage to reach the same level of intensity the Cale seemingly tossed off). The other two bootlegs are compilations of various live tracks and the occasional out-take.


There exists much more excellent music beyond this band, of course. The more special of the Velvet Underground's enduring aspects is how people interpret their legacy. As previously stated, they seem to mean all things to all people, and because of the variety of musical/stylistic/literary aspects of the VU that artists nowadays identify themselves with, perhaps their influence is felt in a greater number of ways than a more well-known group's, and their legacy is kept alive by the continuing spirit of experimentation in music today.

There's really nothing more to be said besides the obvious: listen to the catalog.

An excellent bootleg resource

Certified Reconditioned Product

Ohhhhh dear. The ruptured ramalama of one man's lemonsuit.