Velvet Underground doc explores why Lou Reed took out Andy Warhol
Before the Velvet Underground landed under the wing of Andy Warhol, its members were misfits who performed on West Village tourist dives, alienated the public, and were fired for being too abrasive. “Some [Velvets, led by Lou Reed] played with your back to the crowd, âsaid Martha Morrison, wife of guitarist Sterling Morrison, inâ The Velvet Underground, âa new documentary directed by Todd Haynes that hits Apple TV + and plays in theaters Friday. âThey had that off-putting aura. They were scary.
Barbara Rubin, a drugged teenage girl from Queens who had Warhol’s ear, was delighted. She told Warhol in 1965 that he needed to see the Velvet Underground. The group were invited to an alleged audition at Warhol’s Factory. Billy Name, a photographer there, tells the doc how it happened: “They were all dressed in black, they started playing heroin, we were upset.”
In no time, Warhol becomes the manager of the group. But his relationship with the band ultimately angered Reed despite Warhol getting them some cool gigs, publicity, and a recording deal. Warhol had an incredible work ethic and flaunted it to an annoyed Reed. “Every day Andy [arrived to the Factory] in front of me, and he was asking me how many songs I had written that day, âReed explains in the documentary. “I’d tell him 10. He’d say, ‘Oh, you’re so lazy. You should have written 15. ‘ “
Warhol’s impact on the group was significant and immediate. âAndy made the group visible in every way imaginable,â Haynes told The Post. âIt gave them legitimacy and visual impact. He called the band’s music rude and coarseâ¦ like his films. His cinema was personified by the Velvets.
While Warhol gave them bizarre gigs – including entertainment for the annual psychiatric society dinner, which The New York Times covered; one shrink compared the group to “an LSD experiment” – he also offered them a permanent booth, as part of his Exploding Plastic Inevitable, at the Dom, a former Polish wedding hall in St. Mark’s Square. This show became fashionable and made the Velvet Underground famous. Walter Cronkite, Jackie Kennedy and Rudolph Nureyev all headed downtown to enjoy the pop artist’s new discovery.
Other signs of a power struggle between Reed and Warhol emerged during this concert. As part of the act, Rubin threw peas at Reed; When asked why he is supporting the points, Reed wearily replied to future Ramones manager Danny Fields, “That’s what Andy wants.”
Warhol also put forward the idea of ââhaving Nico, a gorgeous blonde Teutonic who stole scenes from “La Dolce Vita”, join the group to sing some of Reed’s songs. “Paul [Morrissey, the filmmaker who collaborated with Warhol] began to convince Andy that Lou was not really good-looking. You must have had a beautiful girl in there, âName recalls in the doc. “Lou must have been begged by Andy.”
Reed gave in and the idea turned out to be a good idea. âYou realized,â Velvets co-founder John Cale says in the documentary, â[Warholâs] the eye for publicity and the idea of ââthat blond iceberg next to us all dressed in black.
But Nico herself was not so easily convinced to accept a seemingly insane concept presented by Warhol. âAndy wanted her to sing in a plexiglass box,â said Jackson Browne, who dated Nico and played guitar with her, in the documentary. “But Nico didn’t have it.”
Neither did Reed, apparently, who, as Cale notes in the document, “went mad and fired Andy” in 1967. “Andy produced the first record he was there on, breathing, in the studio,” Reed says, although he did. recognize that “his presence meant that we could make the record without anyone changing anything.”
Seeking a reason for the split – beyond everything else, Warhol designed one of the all-time iconic album covers, depicting a peelable banana, for the band’s debut – a Rolling Stone reporter asked. to Reed if Warhol was fed up with the Velvets. Reed replied, âNo. Andy goes through things but so do we. He sat down and had a conversation with me. âYou have to decide what you want to do. Do you want to continue playing in museums and art festivals? Or do you want to start moving to other areas? Lou, don’t you think you should think about it? So I thought about it and fired him.
The artist, surely surprised that his heart to heart had gone so badly, responded by calling Reed “a rat.” Most likely, Warhol was unaware that Reed – who told Rolling Stone, “It was the worst thing he could think of” – and others had already employed a sharper review for him: Drella, a combination of Dracula and Cinderella.
Warhol’s absence was probably felt during the recording session for the band’s fast and loud second album. The production of âWhite Light / White Heatâ was suitably present and caused such a uproar that the engineer told the band, âI don’t need to listen to this. I’ll put it on file. When you’re done, come get me. (After the album’s release, Reed also pushed Cale out of the band.)
Apparently, Warhol overstepped his limits – as Haynes said, the Velvets “became performers for Andy Warhol’s circus show” – and perhaps became too much of the band. This is perhaps what really marked the naturally mercurial Reed. “People thought Andy was our lead guitarist,” Reed says in the doc, before adding sarcastically, “It made it difficult when we lost our Great Shepherd.”