The Velvet Underground & Nico

When creating a retrospective on the history of alternative rock there is no better album to look at than the one which arguably created the entire.There's really no other way to phrase that alternative rock as a genre in it's own right was created the day this record was cut. No other album in this history of rock music as a whole, has had the same impact of this one. Every stream of thought related to the alternative rock scene can be directly traced to this album. Recorded in '66 this album created an entirely new idea of what it's music could do. The attitude was subversive, independent, esoteric and aggressively nihilistic. These traits would, of course, undergo a metamorphosis that would leave the genre of punk in it's wake. There's almost nothing new to be said about this album that hasn't already been said. It's reached a point where any group that even tries to be "alternative" owes an intrinsic debt to the The Velvet Underground, whether they know it or not. This significance is less the result of the sound they created and more by what the album represents. It would superficial to talk about the sound without mentioning this. The Velvet Underground created a work which exposed and dissected the psyche and the mentality behind any urban child. It wanders aimlessly at night though back alleys and it unveils a world where decadence and debauchery are the yin and yang of it's existence. Every hedonistic pleasure ranging from drugs to sex are transformed into nauseous rituals and every second of existential aching becomes a new rite of passage for the souls who stumble through their haze.

 Aesthetically, the album is composed of haunting, spectral ballads and rabid, frenzied jams. The opening track Sunday Morning is a seductive ode to the pleasure of gentle coming off a high. It is, essentially, the promise that happiness is the only prize for entering this realm. It hides its scars and lures the curious in. It is from this point that album is characterized by much more grim visions of humanity. The work has quickly revealed that it is not a paradise and we are left with only blunt, informal visions. The second track I'm Waiting for the Man is a percussive and obsessively rhythmic piece which serves as a look into the desperate, daily life of a junkie. The tone is simultaneously desperate and apathetic, the key to understanding "Reedian" poetry. The third track Femme Fatale serves as our first real encounter with Nico, whose gentle lullabies betray the sinister intentions she has. The effect is that we are left not sure is she an angel or a demon or simply the remnants of some ghost from some other time. The result is hypnotizing. The next track Venus in Furs delves us into much more uncomfortable territory. It unveils the mind set of the sexual sadists and masochists. It is debauchery at it's highest and it's lowest. The austere grating of viola and the slight touch of raga strip away the sexual appeal and leaves only a raw libido. This decadent display is followed by Run Run Run, a perfect expression of how desperate these lives are. It is, essentially, a series of short, but effective fables from the city. The mantras are chanted here with a new sense of energy. It is the trance of the city being broken, while the pulse remains intact, driving the piece forward. The first half of the album concludes with All Tomorrow's Parties, which serves as both another ritual dedicated to the nihilistic hedonism of this lifestyle and as a funeral for all the people involved. The second half of the album begins with Heroin, a clear contender for the most cathartic song on the entire album. It serves the orgasmic release of the all the tension, neurosis and paranoia that has been building up to this point. It creates a tone that is both warm but also hurtful, mimic the delirious sensation of it's title. The track is gentle one moment then destructive the next, blurring the line between the abrasive, ugly dirges and the gentle, comforting ballad. We continue into There She Goes Again, another parable, this time detailing the brutality and violence present in this world. The tone similarly detached from it describes, demonstrating the same apathy that has come to characterize the tone of all these stories. The next track, I'll Be Your Mirror, is another ballad from Nico, who gives of the same lascivious character. She is still an unknown creature, either a predator or a saviour  The personality is as ambiguous as before and she still begs us to follow. The underlying simplicity of the track and it's folk leanings only  make us more entranced and wary. The penultimate track is The Black Angel's Death Song, practically the definition of a funeral rite. It's fable on morality, told in all it's bleakness and paranoia. It is litany that plays as the Black Angel comes and it's grating delirium weakens us and begs us to follow. All the sickly and poisonous atmosphere is then shattered by the final track, European Son. This final piece is monstrous attack on everything we've seen up to this point. It attempts to destroy  this entire creation through sheer aggression and engages in a cacophony that is the final chaos of this draining album. Ultimately, the album is an expression that is equal parts grim, violent, decadent and sensual; a paradox that is, essentially, the pieces leitmotif.