INFLUENTIAL ALBUM EXPLAINED

The 33 1/3 book series is devoted to exploring “classic” musical albums through short books, but is each text worthy of the album it discusses? Through a series of reviews, The Gazette will judge how well various 33 1/3 books act as companions to their respective albums.

The Velvet Underground and Nico
Joe Harvard
Continuum Press
152 pgs., $12.95

Dozens of books have been written about the Velvet Underground, but Joe Harvard’s look at the band’s debut album is especially solid.

Harvard writes in the author’s note, “I’m not a critic. I’m a musician, and this is not an attempt to ‘explain’ the Velvet Underground, or their first and definitive album. My aspiration in this book is to share some of what I find interesting about the group’s debut record, their music and their method of creating it.”

This approach has the risk of resulting in a book that is nothing but incessant VU worship, but Harvard is careful to maintain an objective perspective, drawing on existing sources and new interviews.

Released into relative obscurity in 1967, The Velvet Underground and Nico has become one of the most influential albums from one of the most influential groups of the 20th century. But, odds are you’ve never heard a Velvet Underground song on the radio.

Harvard makes this a central theme, as he explores what made the VU so influential even though it was unknown in the mainstream. The band’s unconventional sound came, in part, from the uniqueness of its founding members.

Singer, guitarist and songwriter Lou Reed had a BA in English and was working as a hack songwriter when he met avant-garde music student John Cale. Reed’s college friend Sterling Morrison soon joined the duo as a guitarist. The group was finally rounded out by Maureen Tucker on drums. None of the members were traditional in any sense of the word.

The band began playing clubs in New York before becoming Andy Warhol’s house band. An interesting anecdote about the band’s first gig is told by Morrison:

“We were fired from our first gig as the Velvet Underground. We played ‘Black Angel’s Death Song,’ and the owner came up to us on a break and said, ‘You play that song one more time and you’re fired.’ So we opened with it next set. The best version of it perhaps ever played.”

Harvard shows that Warhol’s association with the band both helped and hurt its development. As a manager, Warhol provided the Velvets with connections and publicity, but he also failed to gain an understanding of how the music business works. This lack of understanding, coupled with other concerns, severely hurt the album’s chance at success.

However, Harvard also argues that Warhol’s influence allowed the Velvets to stay true to the music they wanted to create and not allow it to be compromised by record executives. This arrangement included making a place in the band for the French singer Nico.

This leads Harvard’s book into a detailed and illuminating song-by-song discussion. The origins of the opening song, “Sunday Morning,” are most interesting, as it was written to be a single for Nico to sing. Reed ended up demanding to sing it — and did so in a very feminine manner.

While he praises most tracks, “There She Goes Again” receives a harsh treatment from Harvard. He says, “Of all the songs on this amazing album, this is the one that has always amazed me the least.” Yet, for the most part, Harvard is willing to look at each song objectively, which is refreshing.

The Velvet Underground and Nico is both an entertaining and informative read and a worthy companion to the album. It works especially well as an introduction to the Velvet Underground for anyone who’s heard the praise but not the music.