Album Round-up: The Velvet Underground & Nico

What makes this iconic 1967 art-rock album so great?

Cover art for The Velvet Underground & Nico, designed by Andy Warhol.

There’s an intersection in music between the good and the groundbreaking—between quality and influence. Pioneering work isn’t necessarily high in quality, and high-quality music isn’t always pioneering. And, of course, some music—alas, most music—is neither good nor groundbreaking. Like any art form, a new musical style isn’t always embraced with open arms when it first emerges. A band that comes along and changes everything—with a sound unlike any that came before—can initially baffle listeners and be difficult to gauge.

For example, Nothing’s Shocking by Jane’s Addiction, released in 1988, was largely responsible for kickstarting the alternative rock sound that would define the 1990s. But personally, aside from the standout track “Jane Says,” I don’t particularly enjoy this album. Another album—Daydream Nation by Sonic Youth, also released in 1988—was similarly influential. Yet it’s another record I’ve struggled to appreciate beyond its leadoff track, “Teenage Riot.” The people at Pitchfork are really disappointed.¹

I can voice my indifference to both works—specifically, their unpolished production and lack of cohesion. But to appreciate the history of music is to acknowledge that without these two albums, Kurt Cobain and Nirvana likely wouldn’t have been inspired to create Bleach, released the following year, or the seminal Nevermind (1991), which launched grunge into the mainstream and transformed the soundscape of the ‘90s. So, while I might not see their greatness, future creators of great music did—and learned from it.

There is such a thing as creating a great work too early—being ahead of the curve—and thus not reaping the benefits of it until years, or even decades, later. It’s unfortunate for those artists, but necessary for musical style to evolve.

The topic of today’s article is arguably the original influential alternative rock album: The Velvet Underground & Nico (1967), a work misunderstood in its own time, yet now widely considered one of the greatest albums ever made.

A Brief History

The Velvet Underground was formed in New York in 1964 by singer-songwriter Lou Reed, classically trained instrumentalist John Cale, guitarist Sterling Morrison, and drummer Angus MacLise—who was quickly replaced by Moe Tucker—taking their name from a 1963 book about atypical sexual behavior, an apt inspiration, as we shall later see. Their experimental sound and presence in New York’s art scene soon attracted the attention of famed pop artist Andy Warhol, who became their manager the following year, made them the house band at his studio, The Factory, and introduced the group to German singer Nico.

After more than a year of touring with Warhol’s multimedia exhibition, the Exploding Plastic Inevitable—a ‘60s-style happening—the band compiled their strongest songs, recorded them in mid-1966, signed with MGM’s Verve Records, which released their debut studio album, The Velvet Underground & Nico, the following year on March 12th, 1967—Warhol himself having designed its now-iconic cover. The album was neither well-received critically—initially, that is—nor commercially successful, not even cracking Billboard’s Top 100.

Brash by Design

The record has an incredibly low production quality—so much so that it’s not a pleasant listening experience. The band pioneered drone on this album: sustained sounds, often a single note, carried throughout entire songs. While this creates an abrasive tone that—as we shall see—aligns closely with the subject matter of the songs, but also amplifies every blemish in these six-decade-old recordings, which were already of poor quality in their own day. The recording budget for these songs was reportedly about $3,000²—and believe me, it shows.

So, it’s certainly hard to argue that the songs themselves sound beautiful on this record—even though most are objectively beautiful compositions. This disconnect likely contributed to the album’s poor commercial performance—it simply was too weird and challenging to listen to. But another factor in its failure—and, for me personally, the very reason the record is great—was the taboo, controversial subject matter that Reed and company tackled.

Included on The Velvet Underground & Nico are songs that explore everything from prostitution and sexual deviance to urban decay and—allegedly—the glorification of heroin addiction. Some of these themes are more prevalent than others, with one in particular being a little too on the nose. Nevertheless, they remain tense, uncomfortable topics for most Americans—even today—let alone over when the record was released over 58 years ago.

And that, right there, is the genius of The Velvet Underground & Nico: the guts it took for a band to release an album doomed to unleash a fury of public outrage; the courage required to openly address topics that actually weighed on society—instead of yet another hollow love song or tale of a psychedelic trip, as was fashionable at the time. The instrumentals make it a good album, but Reed’s lyrics make it meaningful—something more than just a great album.

Peel Slowly and See…

The Velvet Underground & Nico is not an even work—some songs on the album are considerably stronger than others. Nor is it a concept album with a unified theme and musical style throughout, like the Beatles’ Sgt. Pepper’s, released the same year. For the sake of brevity, I’ve chosen to focus only on the tracks that truly exemplify the musical and thematic advances of this record—therefore, several of the less significant ones are absent from the following section.

I’m Waiting for the Man

This is the second track on the album, following “Sunday Morning,” and the first to openly tackle the issue of drugs. The song roars to life with energetic guitar, bass, and piano—reminiscent of an early Beatles tune like “Twist and Shout.” But that resemblance to innocent pop ends quickly when Reed begins singing about waiting for the man, 26 dollars in hand. Yes, this track is about buying heroin on Lexington Avenue and 125^th Street in Harlem, anxiously awaiting his dealer’s arrival. Catchy and danceable—ironic, considering its aberrant lyrics—“I’m Waiting for the Man” sets the expectations for the rest of the album: this won’t be the typical ‘60s pop record—and will be all the better for it.

Femme Fatale

One of VU’s most popular songs, “Femme Fatale” is the first track on which Nico sings lead. And despite her thick German accent coming through at times— “what a clonn”—her delivery is beautifully distant, complimented by Morrison’s clean, tranquil guitar line. Reed wrote the lyrics, at Warhol’s direction, about the artist’s muse, Edie Sedgwick; and, as the song’s title suggests, they portray a dangerous, seductive woman. This track is unmistakably ‘60s—and not in a bad way.

Sunday Morning

The sister track to “Femme Fatale,” “Sunday Morning” shares the same dreamy quality—complete with celesta, an obscure cross between a xylophone and a piano, to boot. The song offers far more lyrical subtext than was typical for the time, portraying an uneasy, paranoid come-down from amphetamines and a reflection on wasted existence—all under the guise of a sleepy Sunday morning. Interesting. Very interesting indeed.

Venus in Furs

To me, “Venus in Furs” is the most baffling track on a record full of baffling tracks; there simply doesn’t exist a song that sounds quite like it. It’s the album’s strongest example of the aforementioned droning sound, sustained throughout by Cale’s electric viola—oscillating like a whip—and heightened by Tucker’s stripped-down percussion: pounding bass drum and tambourine. Inspired by a late-19^th-century novel of the same name, Reed sing-speaks a sadomasochistic poem that’s steeped in excess and bondage. It’s perverse, unsettling, and yet equally entrancing. Debauchery has never sounded so sweet.

All Tomorrow’s Parties

A bit more straightforward than the last entry, “All Tomorrow's Parties” is about exactly what it says: tomorrow’s party at Warhol’s studio, The Factory. Sung again by Nico—her vocals once again beautifully eerie and icy—the song is Reed’s veiled, poetic critique of the crowds attracted to Warhol’s parties. They are fashionable and eccentric—like Warhol himself—but act detached and superficial, clad in their useless decadence. Cale’s electric viola makes another appearance, this time accompanied by a metallic, droning piano—a sound achieved by inserting a chain of paper clips into the piano strings. Reed plucks away at his brash, distorted electric guitar in the background, eventually playing the track out. This masterpiece was also the first song the band released, issued as a single in July 1966.

Heroin

“Heroin” is far and away the best song on The Velvet Underground & Nico—and one of the greatest songs of all time. Reed wrote an early version of it back in 1964, with more rudimentary instrumentation—it sounds like a Woody Guthrie track—but the lyrics were nearly identical to those on the album version. Predictably, this song is about the drug heroin—Reed offering a graphic account of a user’s experience and emotional state. It begins iconically, with Reed plucking away at his guitar before Tucker’s pulsing bass drum beat kicks in, and continues for over seven minutes—trudging further into abstraction, lyrically and musically, as it unfolds.

To fully appreciate the gravity of this song, compare it to the top hits of 1964: “I Want to Hold Your Hand” and “She Loves You” by The Beatles, “Hello, Dolly!” by Louis Armstrong, “Oh, Pretty Woman” by Roy Orbison, and “I Get Around” by The Beach Boys—rounding out the top five.³ The song went so far against the grain that it’s shocking it ever saw the light of day. While many interpreted “Heroin” as glorifying drug use, its lyrics suggest otherwise—beginning with the drug’s pleasure before descending into psychosis and addiction. It’s a truly astonishing song, one that can’t be done justice except by listening to all seven minutes of its glory.

An Ever-Warmer Growing Reception

The Velvet Underground & Nico was released on March 12^th, 1967, to the widespread disinterest of both the public and critics. On the rare occasion it was even reviewed, like this one in The Village Voice, it was called “dull and repetitive” and “pretentious to the point of misery.”⁴ The album neither charted nor received much radio play—at times being banned outright—and only sold 30,000 copies in its first five years. But as musician Brian Eno famously said, “everyone who bought one of those 30,000 copies started a band.”⁵

This is where The Velvet Underground & Nico made its impact: by influencing the next generation of musicians. Artists such as David Bowie and Patti Smith—who collaborated directly with the Velvets—along with bands like Joy Division, R.E.M., and yes, Sonic Youth, all had their now distinct sounds shaped by this record. Funnily enough, on R.E.M.’s 1987 compilation album Dead Letter Office they cover several VU songs, including “There She Goes Again” and “Femme Fatale”—which, at the time, I didn’t realize were covers.

It took over a decade for The Velvet Underground & Nico to be reexamined by critics and appreciated for its truly groundbreaking nature—now widely considered an all-time classic. Since 1991, the album has sold over half a million copies⁶—that’s a lot more than 30,000—and in 2013, after Lou Reed’s passing, the album reached its highest spot on Billboard 200 chart yet: No. 129,⁷ a notable improvement over its original peak at No. 195

The Velvet Underground & Nico is a testament to triviality of first impressions—great art will come to be appreciated, eventually. Case in point, just two years ago, on Rolling Stone’s list of the 500 greatest albums of all time, it was ranked as the 23^rd greatest album of all time⁸—one spot ahead of its 1967 rival, that year’s best-selling album: Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band. That’s revenge—delivered in due time.

1. https://pitchfork.com/features/lists-and-guides/the-top-100-albums-of-the-1980s/?page=6

2. https://www.loc.gov/static/programs/national-recording-preservation-board/documents/Velvet-Underground-and-Nico_Levy.pdf#:~:text=Their%201967%20debut%20album%2C%20%E2%80%9CThe%20Velvet%20Underground,not%20as%20lo%2Dfi%20as%20its%20legend%20implies.&text=It%20peaked%20at%20171%20on%20the%20%E2%80%9CBillboard%E2%80%9D,but%20its%20sales%20have%20continued%20steadily%20since.

3. https://www.worldradiohistory.com/Archive-All-Music/Billboard/60s/1965/Billboard%201965-01-02.pdf

4. https://www.villagevoice.com/the-voices-1967-review-of-velvet-undergrounds-debut-album/

5. https://www.newspapers.com/article/the-los-angeles-times/95789866/

6. https://www.billboard.com/music/music-news/lou-reed-rip-what-if-everyone-who-bought-the-first-5770584/#:~:text=According%20to%20Nielsen%20SoundScan%2C%20which,two%20million%20albums%20since%201991.

7. https://www.billboard.com/music/music-news/charli-xcx-labels-the-velvet-underground-and-nico-album-the-apex-of-fine-art-1235848044/

8. https://www.rollingstone.com/music/music-lists/best-albums-of-all-time-1062063/the-velvet-underground-the-velvet-underground-and-nico-1063210/