Andy Warhol and The Velvet Underground: A burden or a launch pad?
Music in the 1960s, perhaps more than any other decade or era, was about change. Resisting the status quo and shaking loose the shackles of conformity that many artists fell bound by, whether it was Bob Dylan plugging in an electric guitar or The Beatles shifting their focus from driving cars and holding hands to psychedelic anecdotes of yellow submarines and a walrus. However, nothing else proved this point more than the ephemeral partnership between Andy Warhol and The Velvet Underground.
Just outside the Billboard charts and away from the pop music stations, there was an additional alternative to what was already a burgeoning counterculture. Iggy Pop, along with his Stooges, was bringing household appliances into the recording studio, Terry Riley was playing around with new techniques to create an entirely new style, and in New York, a young Warhol took the Lou Reed and John Cale-fronted band under his wing to change rock music forever. Though, would that still be the case had their paths never crossed?
Warhol was an enigmatic personality, a virtuoso, and a trailblazer of pop art who became a well-rounded confidant for the band after they initially met in 1965. As their manager, he introduced them to the creative circles of the scene in a bustling New York environment, attending infamous parties at The Factory (Warhol’s Manhattan studio) and introducing them to the German model-turned-singer Nico for their debut album.
Though Reed was against the inclusion of Nico, the collaboration proved a monumental artistic success. The Velvet Underground & Nico was a landmark release, with Warhol lending some minimal assistance in production and his hand creating one of the most recognisable album covers ever. From the dreamy appeal of ‘Sunday Morning’, to the chaotic proto-punk of ‘I’m Waiting For The Man’, to the slow-release of fan-favourite ‘Heroin’, it was a remarkable debut that has since entered the annals of music history. However, that bond between Warhol and the group was as triumphant as it was tumultuous, as creative differences meant that Reed would sever ties and unceremoniously distance himself from Warhol shortly after.
While both Reed and Cale would go on to release several other classic albums throughout the years as both The Velvet Underground and as solo artists, they would reconvene for an excellent collaborative album in 1990, Songs For Drella, an album dedicated to the memory of their late mentor as Warhol had passed away the year prior after complications from surgery. It was a touching tribute that suggested their relationship had been repaired through the benefit of hindsight.
One could argue that a band as talented as The Velvet Underground, with visionary members as seminal as Reed and Cale, along with drummer Moe Tucker and guitarist Sterling Morrison, would have found their way regardless and realised the same success with or without the towering artistic and social influence of Warhol. But, then, why hadn’t they?
If nothing else, Warhol shone a brighter spotlight that had been placed on the band before. One of rock’s most repeated adages is about The Velvet Underground’s record sales, or lack thereof, when Brian Eno stated in response to the diminutive purchases that “everyone who bought one of those 30,000 copies started a band”. And, if noted artists from Radiohead to Oasis citing the group as an inspiration is anything to go by, there may just be a semblance of accuracy to that hefty consideration.
