The Velvet Underground by The Velvet Underground (1969)

In their brief career, New York’s Velvets created four albums, each with its own distinct character. Their iconic 1967 debut The Velvet Underground and Nico, with its classic Warhol “peel the banana” cover, has been widely canonized as the origin of anything to do with alternative music. Its groundbreaking cacophonous experimentation was layered with the wailings of the thickly-accented German chanteuse Nico, but also contained the twisted masterpieces “Heroin”, “Sunday Morning”, “I’m Waiting For The Man” and “Venus in Furs”. Its follow-up, 1968’s White Light/White Heat quite literally shed its predecessors Technicolor sheen: a completely black cover and the flipside featuring a high-contrast black and white shot of the now four-piece band. In just six tracks, it pushed the brash sound of Nico to new extremes, creating a minimalist, proto-punk sound in its sonic nihilism. Loaded, their last album as a functioning band, as well as the last featuring Lou Reed, was purposely “poppy”, “loaded” with potential hits. It proved a fitting conclusion to their four-year career.

The Velvet Underground then, falls somewhere in the middle. It is the least distinct of the four albums, lacking a clear character (some would say “gimmick”), and not spawning any songs that are considered Underground classics. Its strength lies in its unity as an album, both song-wise and tone-wise. It has a subdued quality, a tranquil, understated beauty, particularly compared to its two predecessors. This new direction immediately becomes clear upon first listen; newcomer Doug Yule’s frail, tender voice is put to good use on the opening track “Candy Says”. This is his only solo vocal appearance on this album, but he would take a more prominent role in Loaded, eventually becoming a one-man-band for the shameless, post-Reed Squeeze. The subject matter of this opening song is classic Underground, explaining why this is one of the few tracks to have a longer life in Lou Reed’s live repertoire. Dealing with the same “Candy” as “Candy Darling” from Reed’s “Take A Walk On The Wild Side”, the song is a loving, tragic tribute. Particularly poignant is the following rendition from Lou Reed’s 2006 performance of his 1973 album Berlin. It features Reed singing with Antony (of And The Johnsons fame), adding to the song’s haunting quality.

Illustration 1: Lou Reed and Antony Hegarty duet on "Candy Says", from the 2007 film "Berlin" by Julian Schnabel, documenting Reed's 2006 performances of the eponymous album.

“What Goes On” is another standout track, an organ-driven song with frantic guitar riffing. It is one of the few up-tempo songs on the album, but this is hardly the thrashing of White Light/White Heat. It keeps the delicacy of the album intact through its modest arrangement and relatively untreated lead guitars. The next few tracks exemplify a new minimalism, allowing for the first time for Reed’s voice and lyrics to take centre stage. Transcending the frantic wailing about drugs and dealers, songs like “Pale Blue Eyes” and “Jesus”, with its harmonising are almost tender love songs. “Beginning To See The Light” is more traditional, that is to say, amplified Velvet Underground, though of a looser and more sloppy sort. “I’m Set Free” forms an epic closer to this suite, paving the way for some more experimental tracks. “The Murder Mystery” which features the whole band in a simultaneous faux news-reading, recalls the spoken-word “The Gift” from White Light. It even features a campy pun: “Shaving my head’s made me bolder”. The final track, an almost throwaway number sung by drummer Maureen Tucker (presumably an attempt at a “Ringo Track” like the Beatles regularly inflicted on the world), keeps the loose and relatively light atmosphere of the album. Despite her charming New York accent, Tucker is like a latter-day Meg White in that she can’t really sing, or drum for that matter. This makes the Chili Peppers’ singer Anthony Kiedis a fine choice for a cover artist:

Illustration 2: Drugs may have been involved: Anthony Kiedis and John Frusciante in Amsterdam, 1991. Inexplicably wearing what appears to be an apron. And not much else.

Through its lacking of instant classics, The Velvet Underground is bound to be snowed under by its more influential predecessors and its poppy successor. In its laid back songs and quiet atmosphere though, the more sensitive side of Reed and the band is brought forward. For those turned off by the more hit-and-miss, abrasive works by The Velvet Underground, this album offers a solid album with delicate moments that anticipates some of the more mature rock albums of the 1970s.

Illustration 3: A Cheeky Lou, shortly before becoming Creepy Lou

Sticky Fingers by The Rolling Stones (1971)

Sticky Fingers is the quintessential rock album, a lesson in album dynamics and pacing. It is a perfect blueprint of ten varied songs, every single one essential to the album united by its moody, narcotic theme. Rockers are overtaken by even more intense songs, that give way to ballads, all the while drenched in overdriven guitars.

The album was the first the band made entirely without involvement of former bandleader Brian Jones, who passed away in mysterious circumstances in 1969, and since the tragic death of a fan at Altamont that same year. It would mark the peak of their resurgence that started in 1968, when the Stones would cast off their mandatory awkward psychedelic phase, return to the blues and turn up the nastiness on Beggars Banquet. 1969’s Let It Bleed continued the trend, very nearly equalling Sticky Fingers in its brief, concentrated dose of rock and blues, delivered intravenously. Where Sticky Fingers would truly outclass its immediate predecessor can be found in the song writing. While Let It Bleed occasionally lags, or throws up one or two nonessential cuts, the consistency of Fingers is commendable.

Illustration 1: Despite their bravado, none of these men actually filled the trousers on the cover

From its rousing opener, the instant homerun single of Brown Sugar, riffs attack the listener. Keith Richards is capably supported by the first full-album appearance of second guitarist Mick Taylor, whose rhythm work and occasional leads liven up the proceedings considerably. Standout track Sway takes the listener to a more leisurely groove, though still positively bursting with licks. Rarely has a track been more suited to its no.2 slot. Sway is also one of two tracks not featuring Richards’ skills; Micks Jagger and Taylor sloppily improvise off of each other. Radio favourite Wild Horses provides relief from the amplified onslaught. Set in this acoustic country-flavoured ballad, Jagger’s affected American twang is completely at home on the prairie. Before the listener can be completely lulled to imaginary ranches far away, Can’t You Hear Me Knocking’s lick, underpinned by a shuffling drumbeat, roars into action. Instantly memorable, the tight song soon opens up to an extended jam encompassing guitar and sax solos. The three-piece that follows is the meat of the album; no frills blues (rockers), of the kind that would be prevalent on Sticky Fingers’ successor: Exile on Main Street. While not as legendary or remarkably majestic as the other tracks on the album, this threesome is a showcase of what the Stones are all about. They demonstrate the band’s taking their early 1960s sound into the 1970s with a clean production, but without concessions to rawness.

Illustration 2: A literal interpretation of "A Head Full of Snow"

Rounding off the album are three opiate-laced ballads, starting with the Marianne Faithfull co-write Sister Morphine. The song paints a desolate picture of a man suffering from withdrawal, hallucinating in a hospital bed, pleading the nurse for his score. On face value, Dead Flowers is a more upbeat country rocker (a cover of which was used in the 1998 film The Big Lebowski), and excellent in that regard, but with mentions of a “needle and a spoon”, the dead flowers in question might well be Afghanistan’s finest. Moonlight Mile, the majestic closer is the second track that does not involve “Keef”, and allows Jagger to indulge in his more orchestral, artsy side. With an almost Japanese flavour to the sound, and plenty of drugs to go around (“With a head full of snow” put literally in one episode of The Sopranos, where the disposal a frozen severed head is transposed with this song), this exotic song is a perfectly twisted closer to an otherwise relatively conventional R’n’B/Rock album.

As a complete package, Sticky Fingers is irresistible. Its iconic Warhol cover, the delightfully meaty production courtesy of Stones regular Jimmy Miller and the instantly accessible songs make for the strongest album the Rolling Stones ever released. Its successor, 1972’s Exile on Main Street might be highly regarded in its sprawling wonder as well, but it’s the focus, drive and the hooks that put Fingers head and shoulders above the rest of the Stones’ vast catalogue.

Hunky Dory by David Bowie (1971)

The first of David Bowie’s ‘classic’ albums, Hunky Dory provides an early highpoint in his career. It followed two interesting, if unremarkable albums, and came just before his career-defining and widely popular Ziggy Stardust phase. The songwriting is remarkably mature, the arrangements are varied and the album is as complete a package as a Bowie album would ever be.

The album’s songs can be divided roughly into two categories; reflective, (semi-) autobiographical musings and tribute songs. Some of Bowie’s most well-known songs can be found on the album, such as “Changes” and “Life on Mars”. The latter, particularly, is a perfect pop song, delivered in Bowie’s then trademark almost effeminate croon. The almost Dylanesque surreal imagery (“It’s on Amerika’s tortured brow/that Mickey Mouse has grown up a cow”) and the Mick Ronson-orchestrated arrangement make this song an early highlight in Bowie’s career. “Oh You Pretty Things” seems to pre-empt the Ziggy Stardust-inspired glam rock scene of the early 1970s, with the titular gender-bending youngsters “driving their mommies and poppies insane”. One of the most straightforward songs ever written by Bowie, “Kooks” is a tribute to his newborn son (Duncan “Zowie” Bowie), welcoming him into the kooky world of his parents. It also includes a particularly amusing advice, coming from the dainty, androgynous Bowie: “Don’t pick fights with the bullies or the cads/cause I’m not much cop at punching other people’s dads.” “Quicksand” contains the kind of tired wisdom usually uttered by performers twice his age, with plenty of allusions to the occult literature Bowie was fascinated with at the time.

Illustration 1: Bowie and Dylan, early 1980s.

The second side of the album contains the lighter fare, in the form of hat-tipping towards Bowie’s own heroes and influences. “Andy Warhol” unambiguously sets the tone, with an hilarious bit of studio banter left on for good measure. “It’s War-hole, actually”, Bowie dryly corrects his engineer’s pronunciation, thereby inspiring generations of drunken students to perfect their Bowie impressions. From Warhol to another 1960’s icon: “Song For Dylan” addresses Robert Zimmerman, informing him of a “strange young man named Dylan” in a loose impersonation of Dylan’s typical nasal rasp. The last of this trio concerns Lou Reed and the Velvet Underground. Superficially, one might think “Queen Bitch”’s stomp is a throwback to the hard rock style Bowie first tried on 1970’s The Man Who Sold The World, but in fact it lifts the veil slightly of his next incarnation as a glam rock superstar. The track would not sound out of place on Ziggy Stardust, and neither would “Bombers”, a track from these sessions that did not make the final album. In the following year, Bowie would fulfil his tribute to Lou Reed by producing one of the latter’s most successful albums to date: 1972’s Transformer. New York’s finest would shine in his new glam rock persona, although he would try to distance himself from Bowie in the years following their collaboration. “The Bewlay Brothers” closes the album in a wave of existential pondering.

Illustration 2: Warhol and Reed, Mid 1970s

Hunky Dory marks an artistic peak, some time before Bowie would break through to mainstream audiences with his glitter suits, red mullets and space alien bisexuality. In a way, it is a mature album that would normally be found much later in a recording artist’s career. Bowie would go from strength to strength throughout the seventies, taking on different personas and adopting various styles of music. Only in 1980 would he make another well-rounded, reflective album with Scary Monsters.

In Rainbows by Radiohead (2007)

Never has Radiohead shied away from surprising its audience. When In Rainbows was released in the autumn of 2007, the biggest, and even headline-grabbing news was the format it was released in. For the first time in the history of the music industry, a major band had decided to release an album itself, without a record deal, at a price to be determined by the buyer. The Smashing Pumpkins had previously released Machina II when they found themselves in a similar predicament, but that was for free, and it is precisely the power given to the buyer to determine the prize that raises interesting ethical questions about the value of music. A free download was possible, as was paying a multiple of the price a regular CD costs.

Leaving aside the big news and the element of novelty surrounding this release, it is the music itself that shines. In Rainbows had a long history, with scrapped sessions from 2005 leading to a 2006 tour on which a lot of new material was played. Reconvening with regular producer Nigel Godrich, the final hurdles were jumped in 2007. Reduced to 10 tracks, with eight others surfacing as bonus tracks, the album is an exercise in restraint. The production is also remarkably frank, stripped down and crisp, especially by Radiohead’s laptop-composition standards. Tasteful strings and sparse beats adorn certain tracks, but it’s mostly dry, minimal drums, sparsely effected guitar and angelic crooning. For those familiar with the 2006 material, and particularly its presentation at the time, the actual album initially feels a step backwards. Eight of the 10 tracks were played the year before, and their final studio incarnations sound a bit tame. Particularly Arpeggi and Videotape lack the extensive guitar workouts that raised the earlier versions to the next level.

Over time though, the simple, bare and organic production may prove to have been a winning decision. It suits the material; a more adult, passionate take on Radiohead, largely steering away from the paranoia, howling and 21^st century alienation of the previous albums. Vulnerability and love fill the album, making it somewhat of a rarity in Radiohead’s catalogue. It is the arrangement and change in tone that set In Rainbows apart from its own heritage, a highly successful reinvention. Owing to its relative brevity, all tracks can shine, and filler is virtually non-existent. Only the longest track on offer, House of Cards, feels like treading water in the latter half of the album, but at least it is treading water in the most beautifully lit tropical lagoon that the Pacific Ocean’s sunset has to offer. From the upbeat opening track, through the definitive approach to the ten year old Nude right to the final fading note of Videotape, In Rainbows does not disappoint.

Few, if any of Radiohead’s peers have accomplished such a late career renaissance. When it came out, its members were approaching forty, arguably having already reached a creative peak in the period between 1997’s OK Computer and 2001’s Amnesiac. The Oxford five-piece’s next moves are highly anticipated, with rumblings suggesting a late 2010 release of a follow-up. Since In Rainbows we have seen a few solitary tracks released for various occasions, one even being released “undercover” through a BitTorrent network, initially without any official announcement. No matter what will follow, music lovers wait with bated breath.