Deep in the mix it is Angel Olsen who sings the backing. With another inspirational melody, Sharon Van Etten has little to do to surpass that, but actually takes the time and trouble to really gift the rendition with some of her best ever vocals, every note drawn out, sounding, bizarrely, aided by the piano and strings arrangement, like After the Goldrush-era Neil Young, the tune carrying also, dare I say it, hints of ‘Imagine’. We have already featured “Femme Fatale” here, one of the three songs sung by Nico originally, her presence more the insistence of Warhol than for the dubious charm of her off key contralto. Without playing very much with the template, Berninger cleans it up a little, giving it a slightly gaunter and strung-out feel, the backing redolent of clanging radiators and single bare light bulbs rather than evoking the wrong part of town at the wrong time of night. Man of the moment, Matt Berninger, the National man, tackles “I’m Waiting For the Man,” one of the more, um, celebrated of the songs, and a staple throughout Reed’s solo career, and subject to many a scuzzy cover version.
It is fair to say Reed gets greater attention here than John Cale, the yang to his yin in the group, which, given he wrote nine of the eleven songs is perhaps fair. Stipe, incidentally, also provides an introductory essay in the jewel case booklet, explaining both the project and giving some detail both to the background and to his remembrance of Reed and of Willner. The melody is even more glorious than you remember, as odd fairground sounds flit in and out. Andy LeMester provides some high “Walk on the Wild Side”-style bass notes, and Stipe’s sister, Linda, some backing vocals. Much as “Sunday Morning’ beckons in the original as a sub-three minute burst of dreamy pop commerciality, with little idea of what is to come, here Michael Stipe is at his lightest croon, the song introduced by some sublime clarinet and faux-strings.
That they remained friends through the sometimes difficult trajectories of Reed’s career, despite Reed’s legendary truculence, is a credit to them both, and this posthumous release categorises and clarifies his love of for Reed and the music of the Velvet Underground. This is no different, except it has a particular extra poignancy, in that he and Lou Reed were more than close, with a prolonged friendship lasting from Lou’s pre-VU days as a jobbing songsmith. Eclectic or what? With an address book capturing just about anyone with a stake in modern musical art forms, not only did he have the vision, he knew how and who could best bear its fruit. Arguably the man who invented the idea of a tribute album, his legacy includes works as varied as the songs of Disney, the music of jazzers like Monk and Mingus, and, for good measure, the music and songs of Kurt Weill, Leonard Cohen and T.Rex. This keenly anticipated project was the swansong of the mighty Hal Willner, the tributes maestro who left us a year last April, as a result of complications of Covid 19.
The velvet underground songs full#
That first album was, to give it its full title, The Velvet Underground and Nico, with the iconic banana logo, and it is this record that is here recreated and revisioned, revalidated and recalibrated.
The velvet underground songs plus#
Be that as it may, in the half century plus since, the star of this still sometimes difficult record has shone ever more brightly. Lyrics about sado-masochism, IV drugs and prostitution were seen as anathema to the mores of the day, and the linkage to Andy Warhol, then enfant terrible of the American art-house film movement, will have hardly have warmed them to any mainstream audience. (Ed: It was, in fact, no less than Brian Eno who made this assertion, in 1982.) Hampered by a brace of lawsuits, relating to the copyright of some of the cover photos, the album limped out in 1967, taking some time to ratchet up many sales at all, trashed by critics and ignored by the record label publicity machine. I forget, maybe it was all those who bought their first album started a band, but again, the numbers don’t really stack up until you collate the cumulative sales, decade on decade after the initial release. But, hey, it’s a great tale and, who knows, had they all actually been there, the band may have been a lot bigger and more successful in their lifetime.įor, undoubtedly, their imprint on rock music has been hugely out of proportion to their actual footprint. Many would have been in the wrong country, likewise.
Certainly, were that the case, their shows must have been jampacked with underage punters, with children, even, since most of those in bands and who most keenly rate them and cite their influence would have been far too young. I love the old chestnut that everybody who ever saw the Velvet Underground started a band.
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