The aforementioned "I Heard Her Call My Name" finds the band riding a similar crest of rock and roll noise, one that they could not have possibly controlled at that time, at least not from a technological standpoint. But for a moment there, that groove is an unstoppable force. A rush of rock and roll and a punch of cerebral slight of hand bundled up in a single elementary take in which every member of the band attempts to drown the other three out. Of course, the band stifles any attempt by the listener to elucidate anything other than, "SHE'S JUST SUCKIN' ON MY DING-DONG," but the song is as compelling a creature as any. It's a throbbing, ever-changing mass of pretension that's utterly tactless in delivery and at the same time, complex, playful and full of nuance. "Sister Ray" must be "power cubed" manifested, right? In theory, "Sister Ray" might be the one song that perfectly encapsulates the career of the Velvet Underground. Lou Reed calls the effect "power cubed," a kind of "what the does that mean?" phrase that makes complete sense. As Sterling Morrison so succinctly puts it, "We may have been dragging each other off a cliff, but we were all going in the same direction." And so the band is a unit through turmoil. After all, the band had everything in a way: Poor record promotion, an unsupportive hometown crowd and a rocky split from Andy Warhol's Factory clique. Although the torrent-like sound of "I Heard Her Call My Name" and "White Light/White Heat" reflect the image of a band that wouldn't be together much longer, the apparent reality of the Velvet Underground at this moment in time is one of unified preservation. In fact, perhaps no other band in the history of rock and roll has ever sound so very much on the same page as the Velvet Underground sound on White Light/White Heat. This is not an album created by artistic rifts, but rather mere situations. It would be unfair to characterize the album as such, however. White Light/White Heat is an acute instance of creative self-destruction and musical hostility. And at the same time, for a select few artists throughout the evolution of rock and roll, it represents the ultimate call to arms. It's become the b'te noire of the peace and love generation, that one ***ed up denizen in the back of the class, clad in black, seething transvestite fumes, eyes engorged by murder and amphetamines. White Light/White Heat is perhaps the premiere instance of rock and roll rubber necking. While White Light/White Heat is notable for being ugly, it endures for the very same reason. White Light/White Heat lacks polish and grace, it features laissez faire production, and it shows a remarkable lack of commercial direction from all parties involved. To reiterate, it's one consciously ugly somnabitch. It's uncommon and it's definitely not plain. White Light/White Heat is not symmetrical. But at the same time, it's regarded as objectively ugly. White Light/White Heat parades against the idea of objective beauty and against those who might pursue it. It's an ideal that says beauty comes from error-free execution. Because society most commonly praises a homogenized beautiful. That's why White Light/White Heat is notable. We're intrinsically attracted to certain ratios of size, distance, shape and symmetry. And while beauty is certainly in the eye of the beholder, anything in the world can be quantified and standardized to a point-nine-nine-nine degree sense of objectivity, if so desired. White Light/White Heat stands against beauty, like Frankenstein masquerading behind the withered portrait of Dorian Grey. It's not a matter of finding that hidden, inner beauty there is no inner beauty on this album. White Light/White Heat is a six-song album by a New York band and an ugly album at that.
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