Velvet Underground in the L.A. Times: ‘They are dull,’ we wrote

In early 1968 the Velvet Underground released “White Light / White Heat.” Listen today and it’s an album that enacts beastly, incommunicable acts upon its instruments, be it the schizophrenic riffs that holler as if from beyond the grave on “I Heard Her Call My Name” or the familiar yet warped barroom strut of the title track, which dragged comfortable sounds into less than alluring locales.

But not all critics of the day were impressed.

The death yesterday of Lou Reed at 71 has inspired the media and the music community to share reflections of the Velvet Underground and Reed’s solo work, to place multiple decades of Reed’s music into an historical context.

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It’s a body of work that was occasionally confrontational, as the “White Light / White Heat” cut “Sister Ray” made clear through its 17-minute collision of nightmarish noise and riffing. But Reed could also break hearts with forthright, observational songwriting that found beauty in small moments. Take, for instance, the 9-to-5ers who turn on the radio at the end of the day in “Sweet Jane.”

It’s a collection of work that benefits from a long, wide view. Perhaps that explains why the Los Angeles Times, for instance, assessed the Velvet Underground with more than a little skepticism.

When the band came to Los Angeles in May 1968 to perform at the Shrine Auditorium, we were in attendance and found the whole thing to be a bit of a snooze. Lyrically, The Times dismissed the band’s heavy interest in the darkest depths of drugs and sex as little more than schlock.

On a night the Velvet Underground shared the stage with scholastic bluesman Mike Bloomfield and the New Orleans mysticism of Dr. John, the Velvets’ sometimes warped take on early rock ‘n’ roll sounds was not appreciated by The Times’ critic in attendance. The Shrine concert was the band’s first major appearance in L.A. since a 1966 stay at West Hollywood club the Trip, which is referenced by reviewer Pete Johnson.

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Here is what Johnson wrote:

“The Velvet Underground, Andy Warhol’s rock protégés who last played here at the Trip (a long time ago), is a quartet which specializes in sado/maso/medico/necrochistic lyrics with a muddy Chuck Berry beat,” wrote Johnson. “Sometimes they exciting, sometimes they pretty, often they are dull.”

Hey, maybe it was an off night for the band, or perhaps the perspective afforded by time has allowed us today to have a better grasp of the Velvet Underground’s singularity and influence, a band that, after all, wasn’t a commercial success during its initial run. The band merited just one graph in Johnson’s review, which found plenty to love in the sounds of Bloomfield and Dr. John.

The band’s appearance two years prior at the Trip, however, was viewed more favorably by this newspaper. This show was part of an Andy Warhol-staged extravaganza that smashed together music, film, theatrical performances and light shows. According to reviewer Kevin Thomas, the Velvet Underground was “a rock group that goes beyond rock. ... It was like a searing sound from another planet.”

That was Thomas’ first reference to the band. The second was shorter and more to the point, declaring VU as, simply, “so far out.”

It wouldn’t be the last time Reed and the Velvet Underground would have someone at a loss for words.

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