Tag Archives: the velvet underground

#1348: The Velvet Underground – That’s the Story of My Life

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‘That’s the Story of My Life’ is a tune from The Velvet Underground’s self-titled album from 1969, one I heard when I came across that particular record… I think some time in 2013. I was going through a best ever albums list on a site called besteveralbums.com. That’s a place I’ve shouted-out many a time on here, it’s never done me wrong. The Velvet Underground was placed relatively high on that list, and through listening 18- or 19-year-old me was exposed to tracks like ‘Pale Blue Eyes’, ‘Beginning to See the Light’, ‘Jesus’… There’s a lot of good stuff on there. ‘That’s the Story…’ is the album’s shortest song. Some may even argue it a little inconsequential, more a palate cleanser for the huge experimental track that follows. I’m sure I probably felt the same way, initially. But at this point it’s more or less one of my favourites on the LP. Once you’ve got the lyrics down, it’s hard to get the whole track out of your head.

And it’s very easy to memorise those words because there’s only one verse, one that’s repeated a couple more times before the song finishes with a flourish. “That’s the story of my life / That’s the difference between wrong and right / But Billy said that both those words are dead / That’s the story of my life”. Very concise, very simple, great little melody alongside a swinging acoustic feel. It does the job as a song. What it all means is something that’s passed me by. Even with the limited number of words used, I’ve always kind of felt there was a lot being said. But what it is, I couldn’t tell. Thankfully, this YouTuber did a video essay all about the album – I’m linking to where they talk about ‘Story’, but the whole thing’s worth a viewing – covering the track in some depth. In a way, they highlight ‘That’s the Story…’ as being one of the most important songs on the LP as it sums up the paradox at the core of it. The difference between wrong and right, good love and bad love. I’m just typing out what they say. It would be much better if you saw it for yourself.

So yeah, that’s the story of my story with this song. Why aren’t there more songs from The Velvet Underground on this blog, you might ask. I made the decision to stop adding songs to my phone in about 2021, and it seems between 2013 and then ‘Jesus’ and this one were the only two on the album that I really, really enjoyed. I’ve got a few more from there on my Liked Songs playlist on Spotify, a streaming service that I know very few people like anymore for very understandable reasons. I’ve come to appreciate the album a lot in the past few years. Not ’cause of the whole context of the band doing a whole 180 in sound after founding member John Cale left and seemingly took the abrasive, freakier side of the music with him. I think I’ve just matured enough as a person that I can listen to each song on there and realise how good each one is. Plus, it must have influenced so many people. Anyone else hear Julian Casablancas or Stephen Malkmus throughout it all? Sounds like they got their whole style from this one project. I’m glad it exists.

#1313: The Velvet Underground – Sunday Morning

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I guess the backstory of my experience with this tune is interesting enough. I was learning how to really appreciate albums in 2012 to 2013, to sit down and focus on every song on there rather than highlighting the singles I would have already known. And if I was to do so, I needed to find out what the classics were, the ones that were considered to be the best of all time. Luckily, I found a website called besteveralbums.com, a place I’ve definitely mentioned before on here a few times, which appropriately contained an a calculated overall ranking of what was to be the finest LPs through history. I made it a mission of mine to go through that list. I gave up after a while, but I’d got the gist. At the time I write this, The Velvet Underground & Nico is apparently the 10th best album ever. Around the time I discovered the site, it was the 13th. But I listened through, read its Wiki article, understood why it was meant to be so good. All the works.

And ‘Sunday Morning’ is the album’s opening track. If you were to listen through TVN&Nico, you might notice the sonic difference between the song and the 10 others that come after it. I want to say I did. ‘Sunday Morning’ seemed like this almost-primed-for-radio production while the others were much more rougher around the edges. The song was the last one to recorded for the album and the only one on there not to be produced by Andy Warhol, instead done so by Tom Wilson who requested its inclusion after feeling the album as it was a missing that one number. The whole thing would have started with ‘I’m Waiting for the Man’, which wouldn’t have been bad at all. But it just feels right to have ‘Sunday Morning’ leads things off. Sort of lulls you into that false sense of security before ‘I’m Waiting…’ kicks in and the album’s momentum truly gets going. Some fine track listing work right there.

Lou Reed wrote it after having the suggestion to write a song about paranoia forwarded to him by Warhol. And you can sense that paranoia in the lyrics, “There’s always someone around you who will call” / “It’s just the wasted years so close behind”… for example. It’s also sort of about feeling like death during a hangover. But what brings you in, at least I know it did for me, is how the track has this lullaby-like feel, with Reed sing-sighing in your ears and bandmember John Cale providing the music-box like dynamic with his performance on the celesta. This truly is a song for those mornings when you don’t want to get out of bed. It’s like Reed’s telling you to stay put in an abstract kinda way. The Velvet Underground had performed the song live with singer Nico before the album, but when it came to recording Lou Reed took the lead vocal duty instead. Probably for the best. The thick German accent maybe would have worked against the subtly. You can hear Nico in the background during the song’s final moments, though. A small move that caps the track off as they both repeat the song’s title into the fade out and silence.

#908: The Velvet Underground – New Age

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This is a very recent addition to the phone playlist. The Velvet Underground’s Loaded has been on my laptop’s iTunes library since about 2013. It’s not my favourite album of the band’s, but moments from tracks on there like ‘Who Loves the Sun’, ‘Sweet Jane’ and ‘Oh! Sweet Nuthin” have always popped in my head from time to time. But sometime around September/October time, something inside was telling me to revisit ‘New Age’. And so I did. And apart from the glorious ending, I still wasn’t very interested. Clearly that opinion changed. It’s now the song I most go to from that record.

Like all the other songs on Loaded, ‘New Age’ was written by Lou Reed. But it’s also one of the four on there sung by fellow band member Doug Yule, who would be encouraged by Reed to take the lead vocal from time to time. Something interesting about Reed’s writing here is how he shifts the narrative perspective from verse to the next. The first sees him recounting a conversation between a “fat blonde actress” and her fan with a mix of third and first person point of view. The next has him saying “You’re over the hill and you’re looking for love”. Who’s you? The listener? Maybe he’s writing about himself. And the ‘I’ll come running to you…’ sections cover the first person straight up. Alongside his writing, the chord changes progress in a way that they never quite resolve fully. They rise and fall, climb and then lose a step, so you’re waiting for that moment when that big release happens. And it does with the almighty ‘It’s the beginning of a new age’ chorus that’s repeated until a guitar solo comes in and closes the song out. Listening to it on vinyl, it’s the last song on the first side before you’d have to turn the record over. It’s a great way to go out.

Doug Yule does a fine job on the vocals here. He’s not the greatest singer, but like on the aforementioned ‘Who Loves the Sun’ or ‘Candy Says’ from the previous album he does well enough that I couldn’t imagine how Lou Reed would sound if he sung them himself. The rhyming of ‘Robert Mitchum’ and ‘catch him’ isn’t too great to my ears, but that’s by no means his fault. He just had to sing what was written down. For whatever reason, the ending was somewhat butchered on the official 1970 release. It was edited in a way that backing vocals come in early, repeat, cymbals come in where they shouldn’t… You can hear out kind of awkward it is. Quite strange that it’s labelled as the “Full Length Version” when it really isn’t. Luckily, a re-release of the album back in 2015 included the track at its fullest, which I hope you would have heard by now ’cause it’s only up there.

#668: The Velvet Underground – Jesus

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This song does relate to our lord and saviour Jesus Christ a lot more than the previous post. It doesn’t tell a story about him, nor is it a passage from the Bible set to a piece of music. Closing out the first half of The Velvet Underground’s third album, ‘Jesus’ could be seen as something of a prayer.

“Jesus – help me find my proper place/Help me in my weakness ‘cause I’ve fallen out of grace” are the sole lines in this track, repeated over and over amidst tasteful guitar lines, arpeggiated bass notes and a beautiful harmony between Lou Reed and Doug Yule. Whether the track is taken to be serious is up for debate. This was the same band who were depicting scenes of orgies, drug use, and homosexuality on the previous album. And that was only in one song.

Maybe Lou Reed really was asking to be absolved of his sins. Sounds sincere to me but you never know. Nevertheless, ‘Jesus’, for me, is a highlight from an album that showed a wholesome side to The Velvet Underground. More quiet and digestible. A band you could let your parents listen to. These people couldn’t harm anyone.