Velvet Reed

The Grateful Dead really began to build its mojo in '64 and '65 when it was the house band for Ken Kesey's mind-boggling series of Acid Tests. Pink Floyd first established itself as a force when it was the house band for the ridiculously psychedelic UFO club in London in '66. In much the same way, the Velvet Underground achieved the same kind of ignition with ultra-cool New Yorkers as the house band for Andy Warhol's multi-media confabs known as the Exploding Plastic Inevitable in '66 and '67.

Yes, it's tribute time for the great and iconic Lou Reed, the singer/songwriter/guitarist for VU from '67 to '70, who then went on to have a lengthy career as a solo artist for the rest of his life, which ended Oct. 27 at age 71. While the word “legend” gets flopped around a bit much in this semantically sloppy age, in Lou's case, the word fits. He was the real deal for real.

VU album number one is called The Velvet Underground and Nico (the record with the famous Andy Warhol banana cover). Released in March of '67, while the Jefferson Airplane is tripping with a White Rabbit, while John Lennon is checking out tangerine trees, while Jim Morrison is lighting a fire, Lou is on a corner in uptown New York City, “Waitin' For My Man.” A churning, chugging introduction. Then later on, after he finally scores, Lou sings about “Heroin” with an honesty that is still to this day unsettling and righteous. He's a junkie trying to explain what this cruel ecstasy is all about, and the result is a daring and memorable work, made all the more so by the extraordinarily rockin' and dissonant viola solo by John Cale that brings the whole thing to an uncomfortable crescendo. This is not a song that you'll hear in the background during happy hour at Applebee's. Featuring the simple and perfect lyric, “And I guess, I just don't know. And I guess that I just don't know.”

On “All Tomorrow's Parties,” we hear the haunting, compelling voice of the German chanteuse Nico complemented by the original and unique guitar work of Reed. Another song that is effortlessly on target. And in “Venus in Furs,” Lou sings of a modern love, but it's not exactly your standard musical romantic fare. Here, we have ermine furs, the kissing of the boot, and the tasting of the whip. Talk about a sudden blast of worldly and weary. We've come a long, long way from Peggy Sue and Burt Bacharach with this eye-opening track.

The first VU. Still wow. Number 13 on Rolling Stone's list of 500 Greatest Albums Ever. It's there for a reason. Explore it the next time you need an antidote for sitcoms. Or explore it if you just want to dig Lou Reed.