The Velvet Underground and New York
Everyone sees, at some point or another in their life, the infamous banana from the cover of The Velvet Underground’s 1968 album The Velvet Underground and Nico. The iconic Andy Warhol painting has solidified itself as a symbol of the Pop Art movement in the minds of millions, and can be instantly recognized by anyone with an ounce of care for the arts. At first glance, the painting appears seemingly unthreatening, possibly suggestive, undeniably frank, and clearly outward. The modernity of the painting reflects the interests of American artists in the 60s in using abstract art to make statements or depictions of contemporary society. As Andy Warhol made paintings that addressed the consumerism and mass production of his time, the Velvet Underground made experimental music that painted a portrait of New York City in the 1960s.
No place could have better nurtured The Velvet Underground than New York City. The city that never sleeps, home of the nation’s best parties, the place with the most enviable underground scene, the refuge of the sleekest fashionistas, the birthplace of every trend, and the epicenter of contemporary culture – everyone knows about New York, but Lou Reed knew New York. He knew that New York was home to anyone who needed a home and appreciated the diversity that that fact lent to the city. He knew junkies, bohemians, literary types, artistic queers, Warhol’s Factory members, back alley loiterers, creative lunatics, washed-up beatniks, unwanted children, and wannabe hippies. Reed understood that New York encompassed the highest and lowest lifestyles of humanity all in one place, and often gave attention to the former. The “wild side” of America was something Lou Reed wrote about from the days of The Velvet Underground until his death.
While Western America experienced a decade of peace, love, and rock and roll through the hippie movement of the 1960s, New York and its eastern neighbors lived through a new side of American culture. If you were a free-spirited artist in the 60s looking for somewhere to make a mark on the scene, there was a good chance you would go to New York. This allowed creatives like Andy Warhol and Lou Reed to utilize New York as an artistic landmark. Although the trends in the city had similarities to the “flower power” movements of the West, it came with a characteristic New York edge: the drugs were harder, the guitars were louder, and the people were angrier.
The Music
The album opens on a “Sunday Morning” after a night of excessive drug use. It is inspired by a night Lou Reed spent staying up all night with band member John Cale doing crank. Anxious in lyrics yet relaxing in instrumentals, it makes for quite a cathartic track. Reed has said, “this is a song about when you’ve done something so sad and you wake up the next day and you remember it.” This song takes the listener by surprise, placing them immediately in the lifestyle of 1960s artists like Lou Reed; spending a night strung out, falling out of touch with the reality of the world and waking up to the sunset and remembering everything that’s happy and sad about life.
First thing after “waking up” the listener is hightailing it down Lexington to get more drugs. “23 dollars in my hand…I’m waiting for my man.” The song rivets listeners by mimicking the adrenaline of buying illegal drugs, and rings true to this day with lyrics like “he’s never early, he’s always late.” The untuned guitar tones that have never been replicated so well are also introduced on this track. The Velvet Underground’s openness to the avant-garde allowed them to utilize 60s tube amps uniquely and thunderously, creating loud vibrant tones that echo the disheveled beauty of New York’s rubble.
The third song, “Femme Fatale,” introduces the album’s collaborator, Nico. A recommendation of Andy Warhol’s, Nico is an unexpected yet perfect accompaniment to the band. Forgetting about her politics, Nico is angelic across this album. She was a muse of the 60s, a Gothic icon, a rejection of the hippie movement, and a rigid, Colognic goddess. She is a German Marilyn: confident, snowy, indulgent, and a one-of-a-kind femme fatale who gave a voice to the eccentric women of her time. Her low, occasionally monotone voice plays off of Cale’s droney viola and is an amazing addition to every song she sings on. She gives a loungy, haute couture feeling to the band’s garage sound, enhancing the artistry and diversity of the album.
“Venus in Furs” is a haunting song named after a book by the famous erotic author Leopold von Sacher-Masoch. This literary nod displays how The Velvet Underground, although similar in character and era, differed largely from the intellectual movement of the hippies. Contrary to the hippies, who were influenced primarily by the Beat Generation, Buddhism, and European peace movements, The Velvet Underground drew influences from much darker and artistic sources. The Velvets weren’t saying “make love, not war,” they were saying “taste the whip, in love not given lightly / taste the whip, now bleed for me.” Like I mentioned before, The Velvets had no agenda. They were simply making art for art’s sake, and the output is beautiful.
“Run Run Run” continues the Gothic descriptions of the city with tales of characters selling their soul, lyrics about “Gypsy Death,” as well as continuations of the constant theme of substance use. This song is a clear example of why the Velvet Underground are one of the bands I’d most like to have been able to see. The song is so bluesy, so danceable, so forward-leaning. It sounds like a galloping horse racing down a New York street ridden by a bohemian who took his mustang’s tranquilizers.
“Heroin” kicks off the B side of the album. This track, a 7-minute ode to heroin, feels very Lou Reed. The song is poetic, druggy, and filled with the passionate angst of a mastermind who happens to be an addict. John Cale’s viola is a great addition to this song; the drone becomes a screech as “the smack begins to flow,” culminating in a strung out crescendo “closing in on death.”
The avant-garde acme comes in the final two songs, “ The Black Angel’s Death Song” and “European Son”. The former consists of senseless stream-of-conscious poetry rambled over hypnotizing viola wails and repetitive guitar strums. With lyrics like “And Rovermans’ refrain of the sacrilege recluse / For the loss of a horse / With the bowels and a tail of a rat / Come again, choose to go,” the listener can marvel at the poetic genius of Lou Reed. It’s always been hard to pinpoint why this song is my favorite on the album. The lyrical and rhythmic content is far from concrete and the entire song overall is quite abstract, but I find the atmosphere it creates to be so enthralling and unique to The Velvet Underground and Nico. It’s even strangely catchy at times.
“European Son” is a fitting closer to The Velvet Underground and Nico. It is the most avant-garde song on the album, featuring recordings of glass shattering, lions roaring, and walking basslines, laid on top of galloping rhythms and angsty vocals. It is cinematic. The experimental guitar playing echoes the free jazz of Otoma Yoshide and Peter Brotzman in its intensity, the noisy soundscapes can be heard in the music of Sonic Youth and Les Rallizes Denudes, and the vocals are nearly replicated in the singers of The Modern Lovers and The Strokes. The Velvet Underground truly is everywhere.
Reflections
There is something in The Velvet Underground’s music that can’t be taught and will never be done again. Like Warhol, at its core, The Velvet Underground was an artistic expression. Although the band existed through civil rights movements, the death of JFK, and increasing anti-war sentiment, the band didn’t really channel these national anxieties towards art in the poetic ways artists like Bob Dylan and Creedence Clearwater did. If any social event impacted the band the most it was the increased intra-city drug distribution that occurred in NYC during the 60s.
Instead, the band was focused on creating new, boundary-pushing music that depicted the world as they saw it. This didn’t include protests about Vietnam because, well, Lou Reed had enough mental problems to not get drafted, John Cale wasn’t American, and Moe Tucker was a girl. They didn’t see the war so they didn’t sing about it. Instead, they saw drug dealers, irresistible women, and substance-induced hallucinations, and what great songs they sang about that!
After finishing the album the listener has truly felt what it was like to live in America’s City as it was experiencing one of its most lively eras. With how expensive it is to live in cities nowadays, it isn’t as possible to get the makeup of people who were able to storm New York in the 60s. It didn’t have to do with money, you didn’t have to have a family member living there, and you didn’t have to have a certain job. But even in the 60s, as with everything, only the best came out on top. And there’s a reason everyone recognizes that banana on the cover; The Velvets came out on top.
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