I’ll start by getting some things out of the way. The Velvet Underground, a documentary on the band by filmmaker Todd Haynes, spends the majority of its run time focusing on the formation and early years of the group and not much on their final two albums, dissolution, or their impact on music. Doug Yule declined to participate and therefore his chapters with the group are slim, as is their shift from radical noise to incendiary pop. According to the film’s editors, once Warhol was ousted, the group stopped being constantly filmed and therefore there was less archival material to feature. As to the Yule years, once Lou and Tucker left the group, it wasn’t really the same band so no attention needs to be paid. What the film does cover, however, is a remarkable story about one of the most important bands in American history.
By now, it’s a fabled story. The Velvet Underground formed in the mid-’60s and released groundbreaking music that went largely ignored by critics, but influenced generations to come. As Brian Eno has been famously quoted as saying, “they may have only sold a few thousand records, but everyone who did buy their albums went on and started a band.” So, while The Clash may be the only band that matters, they (and punk rock) would not exist without the Velvets.
Raised on Long Island, but with a hunger for the city, the focus begins on the band’s leader Lou Reed and his move from NYU to Syracuse University and ultimately back to the city where he’d get his start writing pop hits in Long Island City before meeting John Cale. Confused about his sexuality and interests in drugs, but confident in his desire to become a rock star, Reed navigated the scene in search of his sound and path to fame. Cale came to New York from Europe as a student of modern classical music with an interest in drone and minimalism. The only cultured member of the group, he lived on Ludlow Street with Tony Conrad and embraced improvisation and honed in on harmonic frequencies to meld the mind. The first time we’re introduced to him on screen is through footage of him on I’ve Got a Secret, a TV game show where his secret was having performed a musical piece for eighteen consecutive hours.
We learn how Reed and Cale met and matched Lou’s drug and sexually inspired lyrics with John’s droning noise arrangements and their evolution from the stage to recordings. We hear first hand tales of their first trip to LA decked out in all black and immediately feeling like outsiders amongst their hated enemies: the hippies. However, while these details may be widely known to die-hards who will eagerly seek out the documentary, we’re also treated to remarkable primary accountings from many luminaries of the time who’ve never really spoken and shared so much in the past as they did for this feature. When Maureen Tucker finally shows up and begins to talk about her disapproval over the flower power movement, “go do something, don’t just give people a flower,” things are illuminated in a whole new way. Her innocence is spellbinding, her calmness transfixing, and her retellings of events and experiences moving beyond compare.
It’s almost a full hour into the film before we’re even treated to one of the group’s songs, but when we finally hear “Venus in Furs,” a switch flips and it feels as if we’ve become one with the band, fully engaged in their world. The magic and innovation behind each of their songs reveals itself in a dramatic and fashionable new way as we’re previewed to their beginnings often before hearing the fully realized studio versions. Hearing Cale and Tucker speak first-hand about writing each one is a truly exceptional experience in and of itself as well and the sequencing of the images in conjunction with the split screen reels of imagery create a brilliant viewing event.
For a band that has been so well discussed, theorized over, and documented over the past sixty years, there were still brilliant gems that gave the band even more significance. The fact that Jackson Browne was practically a member by being the only other person to contribute heavily on Nico’s first album was a shock as was seeing so much more of Moe Tucker actually sitting behind a drum kit vs her unique standing traditions many have written about in the past. Perhaps best of all, however, is hearing so much from Jonathan Richman. His admiration for the group has always been paramount when discussing his music, but to learn he saw the band nearly sixty or seventy times when they played in Boston during his youth really put more into context. He was practically an unofficial member of the group as well, learning to play guitar from Sterling Morrison himself and being privileged to many behind the scene interactions with the group. There’s a precious photo of Richman in his youth which could be the most intimate and touching moment of the film, but also shows what a real thrill it must be for Richman now to so be so closely associated with his heroes.
Most remarkable, however, was Richman’s comment on how there were many shared fans between the VU and the Grateful Dead (even better to think about after hearing previously how much they hated hippies). The groups both focused on rock and pop, but took incredible risks in the area of improvisation. While the Dead would move towards more groove based jams, the Velvets would mesmerize their crowds with eccentric explorations filled with noise. Richman also recalls how after the band would finish one of these drones, the crowd would be dead silent for five seconds before they would begin to applause. After all, they’d been hypnotized by the work of the Velvet Underground and need to come out of their spell.
The band released four perfect albums during their official run, but the documentary doesn’t spend as much time on the back half of their career. Richman also mentions how the band got quiet after Cale left the group and Yule took his place. The third record was their foray into pop and even got Tucker to humbly sing the closing track “After Hours,” but the notorious feedback and rumbling guitar shreds were gone and instead light melodies and breathy vocals became their sound. It fully blossomed with Loaded and it’s admitted that there was regret of recording the album without Tucker on drums. She was pregnant at the time and unable to play in the studio so the group recorded without her and Reed left before the album was released. The group wouldn’t be together again in their original form for decades.
Hearing Cale and Tucker speak with such positivity and fondness of their time in the band was refreshing and gives an added brightness to the songs when listening to them again in this new light. For a band that defined coolness and invented alternative rock music, the documentary most of all reminds us that even after countless listens, the music continues to reveal itself in new ways and each time you put on one of their records, you’re bound to discover something new. In their time, the Velvets were just another band from New York playing dark, seedy clubs that would eventually give way to punk and downtown cool, but were rejected by Cher and The Mothers of Invention when they took to LA. Today, they’re viewed as true visionaries who ushered in not only new sounds, but new ways of mixing pop and noise into something that would go on to influence countless artists for generations to come. For so many, our lives were saved by their rock and roll.