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Rating: The descent into the inferno of The Velvet Underground continues in the second work of the group, this time without Nico nor Warhol.
What emerges is an even murkier concoction of sex and death, a sharp hypnosis that expands ever more. The melodic music boxes of the debut are abandoned in favor of a greater uniformity of sound that harks back to tracks like “European Son,” “The Black Angel’s Death Song” and “I’m Waiting For The Man.” The band insists on the feverish psychedelia that until then had characterized only a part of their sound. It must be noted that this second album is not as broad as the previous one; if “The Velvet Underground & Nico” was an extreme synthesis of everything that rock had been and would be, “White Light/White Heat” is an equally terrible fresco of life and death. From this point of view, the consistency between music and themes is greater in this album; urban paranoia, corruption of the spirit, hedonism, and, more generally, 20th-century society are perfectly etched onto these massive distortions.
The work, although lesser in historical importance, has a "poetic" charge certainly equal to the previous one, if not greater. These six songs stem from the lethal encounter between wild distortions and an inhuman coldness, delving into as yet unknown territories. The title track opens the album, a frenzied and sick rock'n'roll. But there's nothing pleasant, for we soon find ourselves in a delirious whirl of voices and noises. Drugs give way to panic and remorse with “The Gift”; one of the group’s most original tracks. Cale’s monotonous and disorienting spoken word narrates the long story of a man who sends himself in a package to his girlfriend, who kills him while trying to open the gift with scissors. Lyrics and music have a formidable emotional power, creating an experiment that is undoubtedly successful. “Then she knelt down, took the shears in both hands, took a deep breath, and plunged the long blade into the center of the package, through the tape, through the cardboard, through the padding, and through the center of Waldo Jeffers' head, which split slightly amidst rhythmic arcs of red color which pulsed gently in the morning sun.” “Lady Godiva’s Operation” is another terrible vision of death. Cale’s soft voice and Reed’s acid tones intertwine in a superb dark poetry. The melody is carefully immediate, but the sensations are anything but positive. The death of the lady is announced by terrible sighs at the end.
“Here She Comes Now,” the only lull in tension, is an obsessive repetition of sexual urges and desire. The obsessiveness permeates every note of the album. “I Heard Her Call My Name,” another nightmare populated by specters, is a devastating electric discharge, characterized by a pressing rhythm and furious distortions. The 17 minutes of “Sister Ray” monstrously explode before our eyes. The initial sensation is disorientation. Drugs, sex, and death succeed each other in the unfolding of events. The terrible chaos erected by the wall of distortions is imposing, the constant rhythm accompanies a sort of black mass, in which noise becomes art. The confusing overlap of guitar and organ gives life to a bloodthirsty demon. We are the sacrificial victim, trapped in this orgiastic poetry. The track, one of the most extreme in rock history, is also one of the group's most complete and well-conceived. Reed will never be so incisive in singing again, the psychedelic plots of Cale are here at their peak splendor, The Velvet Underground’s sound has never been so violent and raw. The astonishment of the first listens later gives way to a true sadistic pleasure vehemently stimulated by “Sister Ray”; perfect, the absolute pinnacle of the group’s career and probably among those few tracks that encapsulate an entire philosophy of life and, more generally, a state of mind.
“White Light/White Heat” does not equal its predecessor, also because it is perhaps the most important album ever, but it is undoubtedly a fundamental album. The cover well expresses the dominant atmosphere in the six tracks. A swirling spiral of death that assaults the senses and leaves us with a huge sense of wonder. This is the album; a black painting, a harbinger of death. Metropolitan poetry.
Tracklist Lyrics and Videos
01 White Light/White Heat (02:47)
White light, go on messing up my mind
Don't you know it's gonna make me go blind?
White heat, it tickles me down to my toes
Have mercy, white light, have it, goodness knows
White light, go on messing up my brain
White light, it's gonna drive me insane
White heat, it tickles me down to my toes
White light I said now, goodness knows, do it
I surely do love to watch that stuff shooting itself in
Watch that side, watch that side, don't you know, gonna be dead and bright
Yeah, foxy mama, watch her walking down the street
Come upside, your head's gonna make a dead end on your street
White light, move in me and drain my brain
White light gonna make you go insane
White heat, it tickles me down to my toes
White light, I said now, goodness knows
White light is lighting up my eyes
Don't you know it fills me up with surprise?
White heat, tickle me down to my toes
White light, I tell you now, goodness knows
Oh, she surely do move, speed
Watch that speed freak, watch that speed freak,
everybody gonna make it every week
Sputter mutter, everbody's gonna kill their mother
Here she comes, here she comes, everybody get it, gonna make me run, do it
Higher
03 Lady Godiva's Operation (04:56)
Lady Godiva, dressed so demurely,
Pats the head of another curly-haired boy,
Just another toy.
Sick with silence, she weeps sincerely,
Saying words that have oh so clearly been said
So long ago.
Draperies wrapped gently around her shoulder,
Life has made her that much bolder now
That she [has] found out how.
Dressed in silk, latin lace and envy,
Pride and joy of the latest penny-fare,
Pretty passing care.
Hair today now dipped in the water,
Making love to every poor daughter's son,
Isn't it fun?
Now today, propping grace with envy,
Lady Godiva peers to see if anyone's there
And hasn't a care.
"Doctor is coming," the nurse thinks SWEETLY,
Turning on the machines that NEATLY PUMP AIR.
The body lies bare.
Shaved and hairless, what once was SCREAMING,
Now lies silent and ALMOST SLEEPING.
The rain must have gone away.
STRAPPED SECURELY TO THE WHITE TABLE,
ETHER CAUSES THE BODY TO WITHER AND WRITHE,
Underneath the white light.
THE DOCTOR ARRIVES WITH A KNIFE AND BAGGAGE
SEES THE GROWTH, JUST SO MUCH CABBAGE
That must now be cut away.
NOW COMES THE MOMENT OF GREAT, GREAT DECISION.
THE DOCTOR IS MAKING HIS FIRST INCISION.
One goes here,
AND ONE GOES THERE.
"The ether tube's leaking," says someone who's sloppy.
THE PATIENT, IT SEEMS, IS NOT SO WELL SLEEPING.
The screams echo off the walls.
Don't panic -- someone give him pentathol instantly.
The doctor removes his blade cagily slow from the brain.
BY MY COUNT OF TEN.
THE HEAD WON'T MOVE!
[N.B. Normal text is sung by John Cale; UPPER-CASE TEXT
IS SUNG/SPOKEN/SHOUTED BY LOU REED.]
05 I Heard Her Call My Name (04:38)
Here she comes now, now
Gone, gone, gone
Ready, ready, ready, ready, ready
Got my eyes wide open
Ever since I was on cripples Monday
Got my eyeballs on my knees, Aww my baby walkin'
After hours with Mad Mary Williams
Said she never understood a word from me, because...
I know that she cares about me
I heard her call my name
And I know that she's long dead and gone
Still she ain't the same
When I wake up in the morning
I heard her call my name
I know that she's gone, gone, gone
I heard her call my name
And then my mind split open...
06 Sister Ray (17:27)
Doug and Sally inside
They're busy cooking for the down five
Who're staring at Miss Rayon
Who's busy licking up her big man
I'm searching for my mainline
I said I couldn't hit it sideways
I said I couldn't hit it sideways
Ah, it's just like Sister Ray said
Rosy and Miss Rayon
They're busy waiting for her booster
Who just got back from Carolina
She said she didn't like the weather
They're busy waiting for her Sailor
Who said he's just as big as ever
He's just here from Alabama
He wants to know a way to earn a dollar
I'm searching for my mainline
I couldn't hit it sideways
Ah, just like Sister Ray said
Cecil's got his new piece
He cocks and shoots between three and four
He aims it at the Sailor
Shoots him down dead on the floor
Oh, you shouldn't do that
Don't you know you'll stain the carpet
Don't you know you'll stain the carpet
And by the way man, have you got a dollar
Oh no man, I haven't got the time time
Too busy sucking on a ding dong
She's busy sucking on my ding dong
Oh, she does it just like Sister Ray said
I'm searching for my mainline
I said I couldn't hit it sideways
I couldn't hit it sideways
Oh, just like, just like Sister Ray said
Now, who's that knocking
Who's that knocking on my chamber door
Now could it be the police
They've come to take me for a ride ride
Oh, but I haven't got the time time
Too busy sucking on my ding dong
She's busy sucking on my ding dong
Oh, now, just like Sister Ray said
I'm searching for my mainline
I couldn't hit it sideways
I couldn't hit it sideways
Oh now, just like, just like, just like.....
Sister Ray says.
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Other reviews
By easycure
Never has a band had such enormous influence and never has a band been so unique, essential, outside any genre yet incredibly important.
'Sister Ray'... is the pinnacle of the album and perhaps the entire career of the VU: 17 minutes of hypnotic ride, with a shamanic crescendo and a climax of noise.
By Antonino91
The sound quality of the album is terrible... but this gives the album a special character that distinguishes it from any other album.
'Sister Ray' is truly devastating, aggressive, raw, beautiful, and spiced with a funny text... an absolute masterpiece.
By Fast&Bulbous
'White Light/White Heat' is dirty. It’s hard. It’s punk before punk, metal before metal, new wave before new wave.
'Sister Ray' is the most shocking track ever created by a musical group... 17 minutes of madness, 17 minutes of musical libido.
By Neu!_Cannas
This black record is that indelible black of anger and aggression from first to last groove.
'Sister Ray' is a single burning mass of lava that will never solidify, rewriting the musical path up to today.
By Luca Ventura
Thanks to their negligence we now have this colossal ancestor of lo-fi.
I recommend this album to anyone wanting to have fun at the cost of scorching their ears.
