The Velvet Underground
Squeeze

Dough Youle, Dough Youle... Dough Youle, why shouldn't this name have anything to do with Velvet Underground? It does indeed. "Squeeze" is the apocryphal album of the Velvet Underground. Yes, because the Velvets also have an apocryphal work. And it was recorded in London (following a dark logical process)! Youle writes, arranges, sings, and plays all the tracks. There's also a backing vocalist, but she remains anonymous. Lou Reed had rudely ousted Sterling Morrison and then left in 1970. Maureen Tucker was removed by manager Steve Sesnick. Cale was out since '68 due to "artistic differences." Nico was only on the first. So no Cale, no Reed, no Morrison, no Tucker, no Nico. No Velvet Underground.

For the "squeeze operation," Sesnick also dismissed the musicians from the brief post-Reed interlude (1971-72): bassist Walter Powers and keyboardist Willie Alexander, Youle's former bandmates in Grass Menagerie, hired for the "Loaded" support tour. If Willie "Loco" Alexander, disgusted by Sesnick's treatment, immediately launched a long solo career and with his Boom Boom Band, Walter Powers opted to leave music to become a librarian in his native Boston.

So we're in the chilly February 1973, when "Squeeze" comes out with its ridiculous cover, an ode to narcissistic self-redemption. But is there something inside here worth saving? "Caroline." It's probably a reworking of a leftover from the previous album. It recalls "Candy Says," so it has a sleepy veil of classicism. Maybe we could save "Friends," slow, petals to be plucked, more lights than shadows, with the piano reinforcing the guitar chords. "Send No Letter" instead stands as a "Chu chu uá uá uá" song: cheerful, sparkling, misplaced; there's even a sax! But what's so metropolitan velvet about here, there's the linen and floral blouse of an eight-year-old eating cotton candy at a fair. Not even a drop of sangria. "Louise" is a poor "Alabama Song" by the Doors, an unintentional parody, with some extended vocalizing "Aaaaaah, Uuuuuuh." As if to mimic very improperly some melismas.

"Squeeze" is a pasteurized rock album that was intended to be psychedelic. Instead, it's pop and r'n'r. And it tends toward accidentally comedic r'n'r, victim of its own mediocrity. Dough spoke, years later and rightly so, of his "great mistake." He admitted it, freeing himself from guilt. That's why we forgive and love him. At the time, he was neither prudent, nor foresighted, nor honest in using that name. But we always end up having to sink our hearts and imagination into afflictions and truth. If only he had put it under his name! Nobody would have given a damn, okay! But nobody would have been annoyed or indignant, nor would they have mocked him. At most, laughed at and that’s it. Done there. Why didn't he come up with a new moniker, like Who-I-Fan 'n' You-Low Undrground, that is, Vaffan' Youle Underground. Velvet Doug? V.U.D.Y.? Yes, it should have been credited to the VUDY! Or cynically to the Youle Undersesnik.

Youle was in the ranks from 1968. Guitarist, bassist, multi-instrumentalist. Roughly anonymous singer. He replaced Cale. He had the extraordinary ability not to piss Reed off, didn’t get in the way, didn't annoy the hell out of him. A placid type. But with "Squeeze" he made a leap into the dark. And the work fell rightly into the darkest obscurity. Into the bleakest oblivion. But are we sure that Youle, during the time of "Velvet Underground 3," didn’t count for anything? What does it really mean to become part of one of the two or three most influential bands in rock history?

In "3" he dutifully played bass and organ and was the lead voice in the opening ballad "Candy Says"! In "Loaded" he sang four tracks ("Who Loves The Sun", "New Age", "Lonesome Cowboy Bill", "Oh Sweet Nuthin'") and played six instruments (organ, piano, bass, drums, acoustic and electric guitar). He collaborated with Reed in writing lyrics and music. If he isn't the fifth Velvet by importance, he was at least the sixth. More than founding drummer Angus MacLise. Much more than his brother Billy Youle who replaced Tucker when she had to give birth.

As for "Squeeze," in itself and for itself, it's not horrible but it’s close. Very close. Almost nothing. It shares nothing with the legend of the Velvet Underground. Yes, legend. Born in New York, Lower East Side, Manhattan. 1964. Creators of murky, ulcerous, distorted, disordered, hyper-realistic rock. Experimental, alternative, proto-punk and decadent, while everything around them was completely different. Voice and paradigm of metropolitan decay, public and private, down to despondency and squalor. The VU produced two epic, incredible records. A third wonderful one. All three crucial in the evolution of rock.

Livid melodies, threatening noise, anguish, darkness, a certain panism in "Velvet Underground & Nico" (1967). In "White Light/White Heat" (1968) dissolution and murky poetry; Reed's black humor and Cale's experimentalism. In "3" (1969) more melody and less torment, a more accessible, softer rock, languid ballads, sinister yet clear songs. "Loaded" (1970) is awkward but contains some classics. Reedian in form, but finished actually by Youle, suddenly and – it seems – self-proclaimed leader. Maybe tired of being harassed by Reed (who would disown the work due to the mix). "Loaded" isn’t a mess. But "Squeeze" is crap! Crap first and foremost by the unscrupulous businessman Steve Sesnick. It is hard to tell which of the two collected the other's excretion in their hands. Sesnick provided the purge and then opened his hands. Youle swallowed.

Warhol, the Factory, the Exploding Plastic Inevitable Show, the avant-garde, Lewis Allen Reed (guitarist and poet), the Welsh John Davies Cale (passing through Bernstein, Fluxus, Dream Syndicate/Theater of Eternal Music), the aloof Christa Paffgen alias Nico (artistic icon – like no other), the rock'n'roll guitar of Holmes Sterling Morrison Junior and the primitivism of Maureen Ann Tucker. The mere names are evocative! If Morrison after the VU returned to his university studies and became a medieval literature lecturer in Austin (only to then abandon everything to become a "tug-boats" captain in the Houston channel), Maureen, for her part, mother of five, continued to make music producing unnoticed albums (under her own name and with the Kropotkins), also collaborating with Jad Fair of Half Japanese, with Jonathan Richman and with the Breeders. The others solo, of course, had stellar careers. But Doug? The non-evocative Youle. The human case of Doug? Doug who Reed and Cale did not want even in the lineup of the 1992-93 reunion, against the opinion of the less integralist Morrison?

Youle would form the American Flyer in the late '70s with Fuller, Kaz, and Katz. It’s true. The Americans, with their soft rock/country rock, represent a bit of Youle's redemption. Their debut is a nice, honest work. Later, he would also play with Elliott Murphy – and after a long break, no less than a woodworker! – he would join the Weisstronauts (to make "Instrumental twang surf psych spy rock") and collaborate again with Moe Tucker (for the live "Moe Rocks Terrastock"). Who knows what he thinks now about 1996, when the Velvet Underground was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame but he was excluded from the ceremony. Reed often behaved like an anesthetized jerk. But 1973 is distant. Lou could have forgiven. Forgiveness is something truly liberating. It also has enormous therapeutic potential for mental health. 1973 is far away. With its incidents. We can rejoice in that. Today Doug lives in Ballard, a neighborhood in Seattle, where he builds and plays violins with his son. Of everything else, he probably doesn't care anymore. Sometimes you eat the bear and sometimes the bear eats you. But whatever happened to Steve Sesnick?