Velvet Underground - White Light/White Heat

Love it or hate it, but the experimental noisy nature of this 1968 Velvet Underground album was definitely very unique back in late sixties. The noise experimentation on White Light/White Heat is decidedly insane and evil, the psychedelia presented here is not kind or easy, and not even quirky the same way one would expect from Mothers of Invention, early Soft Machine or Pink Floyd, although none of these were any less experimental. Velvets' approach is different. We have raw, visceral droning sheets of white noise coming from Ornette Coleman like free-jazz infused guitar from Lou Reed, while multi-instrumentalist John Cale's noise textures originate from mean fuzz-bass (like the ending of the title track), scratchy sawing viola ("Lady Godiva Operation") and insanely distorted and painfully alienating Vox organs. Moe Tucker is basically buried under the amplified sheets of sounds, but it's obvious she gave most tunes their consistent pulse. Aforementioned John Cale, the most erudite member of the band, contributes a lot to this album's insanity, also providing the spoken word recitation on "Gift", which is one example of Lou Reed's sheerly skewed poetic talents. Much of the album sounds improvised, but not noodly, it's all about the garage band gone to hell lunacy that makes this album. Occasional sense of pure melody pops up ("Here She Comes Now") but Velvet Underground wasn't easy listening, although they became considerably more melodic when John Cale left in 1968. But they were never as noisy after that.