Book Review: Loaded

Rebellion always starts somewhere, and in the music world of the transgressive teen—whether it be the 1960s or the 2020s—the Velvet Underground represents ground zero.

Crystallizing the idea of the bohemian, urban, narcissistic art school gang around a psychedelic rock and roll band—a stylistic idea that evolved in the rarefied environs of Andy Warhol’s Factory—the Velvets were the first major American rock group with a mixed gender line-up. They never smiled in photographs, wore sunglasses indoors, and invented the archetype that would be copied by everyone from Sid Vicious to Bobby Gillespie. They were avant-garde nihilists, writing about drug abuse, prostitution, paranoia, and sado-masochistic sex at a time when the rest of the world was singing about peace and love. In that sense they invented punk and then some. It could even be argued that they invented modern New York.

Book Review: All Tomorrow's Parties

Many cultural critics would agree that Andy Warhol gave the Velvet Underground their break simply by bringing them under his wing. While they reached a certain level of notoriety and local celebrity in their time and have since acquired a lasting cult following, their success was in large part fostered by Warhol’s patronage. But at the time, this relationship was muddied by a certain level of codependence and an insatiable appetite for fame and irony, leaving Lou Reed to ponder quietly: Would we have succeeded without Warhol's help? This doubt begins to spread like a malignant force, eventually leading to the band’s undoing as they break away from Warhol and, perhaps, give up their golden ticket to success.