![]() ![]() ![]() Maybe best not to advertise too loudly after all? ![]() On the other hand, the film is honest, and shows him at times being an egotistical jerk and a bit of a lowlife. (Though far from religious, Reed later did write songs with Jewish themes and visited Israel.) On the one hand, it would’ve been cool to let people know he was a member of the tribe. I mean, when you are as cool as the Velvet Underground, you are too cool for labels of any kind, but it’s weird to me that a total newcomer might watch this documentary and leave unaware of Reed’s ethnic identity. I can’t imagine that it never came up at the time - especially when Warhol paired the Velvet Underground with the tall, blonde, German chanteuse Nico - but for whatever reason it is left undiscussed. Though Reed and others both in archival and new interview footage in the film are Jewish, there’s not a single reference made to this fact. ![]() songs that get played on the radio, like “Pale Blue Eyes” and “Sweet Jane,” come from this later era.) Eventually, Reed left the band altogether, and though there is a longer story to tell, that’s where the movie leaves off. Reed clashed with Warhol, and then with Cale, and eventually retooled the group in a slightly more user-friendly version. The film follows the Velvets’ recording years, including their 1967 “The Velvet Underground & Nico” (with the famous banana peel on the cover) and the amphetamine-inspired “White Light/White Heat” follow-up. Haynes shows how these two men, plus an additional guitarist named Sterling Morrison and a drummer named Maureen Tucker, married Cale’s extreme radicalism with Reed’s rock ’n roll attitude and proclivity toward darkness. Living in a now-legendary tenement building on the Lower East Side filled with filmmakers and artists and radical thinkers, Cale began experimenting with drones, atonality, sonic textures, and an expansive use of time. Luckily he met John Cale, a young Welsh musician schooled in classical music who fell in with an extremely avant-garde circle upon coming to Manhattan. (Reed’s sister, in a current interview, doesn’t exactly stand by that decision, but does defend her parents a bit with some “it was the times” prevarication.) Reed quit Long Island for Manhattan with the hopes of becoming a rock star, and ended up working as a songwriter for a discount record company, scratching out “sound-a-likes” and curiosities like “ The Ostrich.” But inside was a dark poet yearning to get out. The place was New York City and the time was the ’60s just before they became “the ’60s.” The key players were Reed, a miserable suburban kid whose Jewish parents attempted to have the “homosexual tendencies” zapped out of him via electroshock treatment. But the group, led by the late Lou Reed (born Lewis Allan Reed, originally Rabinowitz) was not just an example of “right place, right time,” they helped create the place and time. The singer had a range of about three notes, the musicianship wasn’t particularly nuanced, and while the lyrics were certainly transgressive, they drew their power from blunt force more than wit. Now, let’s be clear: they aren’t the best band. The case has been abundantly clear since the mid-1960s, and if you haven’t been paying attention, there’s a spectacular new documentary from director Todd Haynes eager to show you the light - interestingly called “The Velvet Underground,” and out on October 15 on Apple TV+. Maybe some Israeli tech startup can devise a gizmo that can scientifically prove this statement to be true, but until that day comes you’ll simply have to accept what I say. One such example is this: The Velvet Underground is the coolest rock band there ever was. NEW YORK - I’m all about subjectivity when assessing art, but there are some things you just have to lay down as fact. ![]()
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |