I kind of liked the velvet underground, not as much as they liked themselves, but, you know … Lou Reed is always cool. This is my favorite song of theirs.
There’s been a lot of songs about heroin in the history of rock and roll, maybe not the first decade, but since then, a lot. Very few are as direct as this one. It’s neither a public service announcement nor an endorsement, and it’s not couched in some sort of code. And it’s simple. And it feels like I’ve known this song my whole life.
When I think of the handful of books, art and music that has made a deep impression on me I forget songs like this. It’s simple, straightforward, melodic but asymmetrical, hypnotic and it’s more of it’s time and place than most retrospective documentaries filled with top hits.
I guess the velvet underground spent too much time hanging out with Warhol or something, a lot of the stuff seemed like it was trying too hard or aimed at an audience that … wasn’t me. I thought the doors were cooler and on their less popular things were doing the same sort of thing. Reminds me a bit of Wolfes Electric Koolaid Acid test, the difference between Leery in a high rise taking acid with intellectuals and Kesey dropping acid with the Dead and painting the woods day glo.
I don’t know. I’m a woods kind of guy. I don’t think of NYC as being the center of any of the movements, cultural or otherwise of the late sixties. Detroit, unfortunately, was for one hot summer, not the positive movements.
Anyhow, Heroin, listen to it. Heroin, the other white meat.
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