a coherent collection of random statements regarding God, words and tunes

Say Hello to Never

Man·i·chae·ism — A dualistic philosophy dividing the world between good and evil principles, or regarding matter as intrinsically evil and mind as intrinsically good.

Back to depression…. Kind of. 

I’ll cut right to it this week. Our next selection:

            #7. The Velvet Underground — The Velvet Underground.

             Not to be confused with the Velvets’ first album (…and Nico). Nope, this is the third one. Gone are both Nico and Andy Warhol—one really disturbing landmark album and out (and 25 years later, I still can’t listen to “Venus in Furs”). Gone also by now is the lovely and talented John Cale, following the Velvets’ second landmark album, the recorded-in-six-hours feedback-laden glorious noisefest otherwise known as White Light White Heat.

             Having thus inspired three generations of musicians inside of two years, we now get a mostly quiet, danged near unassuming album that doesn’t feel it needs to prove anything to anyone, but says a remarkable amount anyway.

             In Cale’s place is…. Doug Yule??? We won’t get into that—because frankly, it matters not a whit at this point in the Velvets’ career (Loaded and beyond, of course, is another matter).

             Although after those first two albums, one might well wonder if this is the same band. It is (well, three-quarters of it is), and it isn’t.  On the surface, this might well be the Velvet Underground’s most benign album (arguably even more so than the radio-friendly Loaded that immediately follows, since what we have here is a kinder, gentler—heck, folkier—Lou Reed… at least for now…).

             Beneath that surface, however, lies a depth of profundity. And where there’s depth, there’s darkness. But again, there’s also light, which gets further confused by the fact that the character(s) here kinda find their light in the darkness. It’s no coincidence that the most winsome/wistful statement on the entire album is “If you close the door, the night could last forever…”

             I’m not sure this idea has been expounded on elsewhere, although it wouldn’t surprise me if it were…. but considering its emergence during the Tommy age (which really should have been the Arthur age, but I digress…), it’s not at all difficult to frame this as Lou Reed’s first real concept album — a Berlin with table manners, if you will. Picture, if you will once more, a musical story arc that methodically works its way through self-disenchantment, spiritual discovery and subsequent spiritual disenchantment, involving real people and real issues rather than a deaf, dumb and blind kid who people think is a messiah because he plays a mean pinball.

             Then follow along with me….

              Our album opens with a song of both self-loathing and self-searching (“Candy Says”) — sung by our good friend Mr. Yule, no less (whose “indoor voice” is actually very similar to Lou’s). The song’s protagonist is quietly desperate, longing for transcendence….

Candy says 
I’ve come to hate my body 
And all that it requires, in this world… 
What do you think I’d see 
If I could walk away from me?  

            The pace picks up with the next song “What Goes On,” a song of re-assurance and curiosity driven by some classic Velvets rhythm guitar, capped off with a great instrumental break (which later becomes the coda) which, between a truly spiffy guitar solo and the soaring organ sounds, makes you feel like you just stumbled into church off the street. And a really good church, too. Nearly five minutes go by and you wish there were at least five more (but you’d have to pick up Live 1969 — one of the truly great live albums out there, egregious cover art not withstanding — to hear that extended version).

               What there is instead is a portrait of self-punctured-self-aggrandization, the rhythmic and eminently quotable narrative “Some Kinda Love”:

“Some kinds of love,”
Marguerita told Tom 
“Between thought and expression
There lies a lifetime
Situations arise 
Because of the weather
And no kinds of love
Are better than others…”

"And some kinds of love
The possibilities are endless
And for me to miss one
Would seem to be groundless…”

”I heard what you said.”
Marguerita heard Tom.
”And of course, you’re a bore
But in that, you’re not charmless
’Cause a bore is but a straight line
That finds a wealth in division
And some kinds of love
Are mistaken for visions.”

             From there we go to self-induced fallenness and heartbreak, with the gorgeous love-and-loss song “Pale Blue Eyes.” If you’ve never heard it, I’m not gonna give away the punch line here. But those who have heard it tend to remember their first time. It’s a pretty devastating moment.

              So where to turn from there? Well, to (“self-enforced”? I say that only to be fair) repentance, of course. “Jesus” is a straightforward prayer (“Jesus—help me find my proper place / Help me in my weakness, ‘cause I’ve fallen out of grace / Jesus / Jesus”), and I’m pretty sure it’s meant to be. Regardless of where the writer comes down, the singer’s in a quiet, solemn moment where he’s pleading for help. You have to give Lou credit for staying in character here, if nothing else. Some lovely background vocals add to the moment, as Side One closes.

              Side Two opens with a hallelujah that ends in disillusion. “Beginning to See the Light” is joyful, goofy, bittersweet, and arguably tragic, all in the same song.  Plus, it’s a great little piece of rock-and-roll. As the final line’s repeated over and over, “How does it feel— to be loved?” you’re able to interpret it in a different way each time it comes around.

             By the next song, “I’m Set Free,” the disillusion has become full-blown, complete with its almost mock-gospel chorus: “I’m set free-eeeeeee / I’m set free-eeeeeee / I’m set free to find — a new illusion”).

            With the countryish “That’s the Story of My Life,” the disillusion has degenerated into blithely self-mocking cynicism, as captured in the song’s one and only verse:

That's the story of my life
That's the difference between wrong and right
But Billy said, both those words are dead
That's the story of my life.

             With nowhere left to go, on we go anyway — to a song that sounds like a lot more like the first two Velvets albums, as well as the antithesis of everything that’s occurred so far on this one. “The Murder Mystery” is experimental, eery, flat-out annoying, and sounds for all the world like the voices in one’s head contradicting one another for damn near nine minutes. In short, the chaos that had been kept at bay for three-quarters of an album, back with a vengeance.

            So how does one bring this tragic-opera to an end? Why, an acoustic skiffle showtune, of course. Sung by drummer Maureen “Mo” Tucker—who, maybe appropriately, sounds more like a little boy here — “Afterhours” is a sweet, positively disarming little song that ties everything here together and sends everyone home happy. Sort of.

 If you close —the door
The night could last forever 
Leave the sunshine out 
And say hello to never… 
Oh, someday I know, someone will look into my eyes 
And say, “Hello—you’re my very special one.” 
But if you close — the door 
I’ll never have to see the day again.

            And thus closes Lou’s first novelette — or murder mystery, as it were. That’s my theory, anyway. And it’s called a theory for a reason. But it works for me.

Posted by: burninglight at 17:40 | link | comments (5)

Comments:

#1  25 January 2006 - 18:43

 

"...a portrait of self-punctured-self-aggrandization"?

"...a portrait of self-punctured-self-aggrandization"!!???

.... well, I can see how you could see it that way. Actually, no, no I can't. What part of "no kinds of love are better than others" is problematic? Or is it the choice to choose presented herein that rankles?

Anyway, that's not a debate worth starting here. I like yr theory of the concept record and the 'Tommy' comparison. Lou's always flirted w/the possibility of redemption in his work, but I much prefer the rejection of all in the name of self roar of the 1st record and'White Light etc" to this and/or 'Loaded'.
But that's ok 'cause no kind of love of Velvet Underground records is better than others, right?

timbyrnes

#2  25 January 2006 - 19:27

 

Hey, I ain't the one doing the rankling, bucko. (I COULD be, but I'm not....) I'm just comparing the first two verses to the third, and that's what I come up with. Besides, it fits my concept rather tidily. :P

Anyway, since I knew I was treading sacred ground to begin with, I was already bracing for a response, so I'm pretty sure I got off easy just now. :D

On to #6 (hint: another [this time certified] concept album, and which I'm betting is a forgotten favorite of sorts)....

burninglight

#3  30 January 2006 - 17:26

 

Can't wait. Hmmm 'Arthur'?, 'Soap Opera'? I know I can't shake this Kinks thing but can't think of any other concept albums... 'The Second Damnation of Adam Blessing'? Nahh, to sonsatahve!!!

Looking forward to the rest of the list. Sorry if I thought you were rankled by the overt homosexual references of the song, just my knee jerking in it's liberal way. I really treat the VU that made the 3rd and 4th records as a completely different band than the VU of the 1st two, lyrically more open but musically less innovative and capable of far less impact.
But that's just me.

timbyrnes

#4  30 January 2006 - 20:46

 

"Hmmm 'Arthur'?, 'Soap Opera'? I know I can't shake this Kinks thing but can't think of any other concept albums..."

Nope. No Kinks. Not yet, anyway. :D But I'm pretty you'll like #6... a band at the crossroads.... no, not that kind.... then again, considering their collective but separate commercial success thereafter, and/or what may or may not be the theme of the album...

"Sorry if I thought you were rankled by the overt homosexual references of the song, just my knee jerking in it's liberal way."

Nope. Really was just dealing with the point/counterpoint in the song itself. As far as that particular line goes, my objections with it have more to do with different types of love (i.e., agape/phileo/eros) than they do with any myriad variations on the eros theme. :D

Then again, some kinds of love ARE mistaken for visions.... :D (THAT one I can agree with; I just don't equate it with the "better than others" line.)


"I really treat the VU that made the 3rd and 4th records as a completely different band than the VU of the 1st two, lyrically more open but musically less innovative and capable of far less impact. But that's just me."

Take out the "capable of far less impact" part and I'm right there with you. :D What can I say? I put a high premium on "lyrically more open"... On that note, just wait'll #5 (an album you have, but if I understand correctly have listened to MAYBE once.... :P)...

burninglight

#5  03 February 2006 - 18:52

 

Yeah, a lot of things get mistaken for visions. Why do we feel the need to have visions, anyway? Or why do we call them by the dignified sobriquet when they're only daydreams after all? Anyway I LOVED the 'Lamb Lies Down' review, forgotr how much I liked that record. Saw Gabriel on a flood relief show a few weeks back and he's still Mr Intense (although now he looks like Mr Intense's father!). I was pretty impressed and you know I don't like ANYTHING anymore.
Whither Eno, huh?

timbyrnes

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