The Velvet Underground’s ‘Squeeze’: Not as bad as you’d think

Lou Reed – Interview
(from American Poet)

The Velvet Underground – “Crash”

The Velvet Underground – “Caroline”

The Velvet Underground – “Wordless”

The Velvet Underground – “Friends”
(all tracks from Squeeze, currently out of print)

Doug Yule has always had a bad rap. Despite being in the Velvet Underground longer than either John Cale or Nico, he’s permanently been relegated to second-rate band member status — the Sammy Hagar to Cale’s David Lee Roth. Decades of snobby fans and critics with a selective memory have envisioned the Velvet Underground as all noise and experimentation and “European Son” and Sister Ray,” while dismissing their forays into pop music as pleasant but not integral. But even in the official record, Yule’s consistently given the shaft. He’s the only member of the Velvet Underground not inducted into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame, and he wasn’t even asked to participate in their early ’90s reunion tour (where, despite the band’s iconic status, VU was still just opening support for U2). And to top it all off, the 1973 album Squeeze, recorded by Yule without any of the original line-up, has been swept under the rug and neatly disregarded as a non-existant part of the Velvet discography.

It’s rather unfortunate to look back on: the replacement bassist takes over the helm of the band after all the original members have left (Moe was the last to go), tours Europe under the assumed moniker, and records the legendary group’s final album with the help of Ian Paice, the drummer from Deep Purple. While recent interviews have shown that the group’s break-up was due more to malicious interference of the Velvet Underground’s manager Steve Sesnick, divisively playing against the egos of Cale and Reed, and then Reed and Yule, at the time people were not so kind to the 23-year-old, curly-haired bassist.

In an interview from 1972, when Reed was on a promotional tour in support of Transformer, the interviewer asks if he knows Doug Yule is. “Dead I hope,” Reed deadpans (Cue the sharp intake of breath and one voice exclaiming, “I went to high school with Doug Yule!”). He backtracks, and insists he was just joking, but the implication is there. Reed, the man who would go on to record Sally Can’t Dance, was in no position to throw stones. After all, his disappointing first solo album basically consisted of second-rate Velvets outtakes reworked with members from the band Yes (and the faberge egg on the cover can’t hold a handle to the phallic imagery displayed on Squeeze).

But what is there to hate about Squeeze? After all, Yule played a huge role in Loaded, which has a fantastic assortment of songs; his lead on “Who Loves the Sun?” and “Oh Sweet Nuthin” are two of the highlights of that particular album. And on the beautiful, sedated “Candy Says,” the opening track on the third album, Yule’s androgynous vocals help make it one of my favorite songs of all time. Not to mention the famous story of a young David Bowie being wowed by a Velvet Underground concert in the early ’70s, after which he spoke with Lou Reed for over an hour, only to learn after the fact that it wasn’t Lou Reed at all. Yule had to have been doing something right. Right?

Squeeze has its moments. On the whole, it’s a record chock full of songs on par with “Cool It Down” or “Lonesome Cowboy Bill”; nothing particular crafty or clever, but fun songs with passably upbeat hooks. There are even hints of other pop rock groups of the day, such as Badfinger or Wings or the Who’s less cock-rocky material (think “Happy Jack”), which are shocking comparisons to make to a band formerly known for writing atonal dirges about Sacher-Masoch’s leather fantasies.

“Crash” is a plucky piano jaunt, hampered only by an annoyingly “experimental” crossfade production and lyrics so cornball they’d make Paul McCartney blush. “Crash McBean, you shoulda seen poor old mommy’s face go green. Crash come flying ’round the bend, two wheels up and he’s down again.” Aside from the obvious nod to “Train ‘Round the Bend,” there are hints throughout this song, with its themes of competition and self-destructive behaviors, and throughout the album that Yule is writing about Reed. While I may have grimaced during a few of these Reed put-down songs (the one-two sucker punch of “Mean Old Man” and “Dopey Joe”), there are moments where Yule really shines as he makes a valid case for his place in the spotlight.

“Wordless” and “Send No Letter” are great kiss-off tracks. “Wordless” has a mean, slinky rhythm with a prowling piano and feisty licks from the guitar, made all the more biting by Yule’s best lyrical inventions. “Do it in pencil, so I can erase,” he sneers. “Send No Letter” tears a page out of the Loaded country songbook and even manages to sneak in some “ooh-wah ooh-wah chicky-chicky-chickys” and the heavy brass funk of the day. But none of the Lou Reed indictments are as thinly veiled and damning as the closing track “Louise”: “Louise, take it all back to town, ain’t it a shame you’re too old to get around. But everybody knows you used to dance the hoochie-coo, just can’t shake it like you used to do.” Ouch.

But it’s not all Lou bashing all the time. “Caroline” is great little rocker, which, despite its chorus of “Sweet, sweet Caroline,” sounds more like the Beach Boys than Neil Diamond. And “Friends” is a beautifully vulnerable ballad that’s almost (but not quite) as good as “Pale Blue Eyes.” In fact, it’s about the only indication that Reed’s departure from the Velvet Underground was a surprise to Yule, and one that he honestly regretted. Perhaps this little act of contrition explains why Reed reached out to Yule in 1974 to join him on the Sally Can’t Dance tour, marking the first occasion that two former Velvets worked together after the death of the band. (Although, most likely Lou never heard the album. Even Doug Yule won’t admit to owning a copy.)

Squeeze isn’t essential listening by any stretch, but for the curious fan it’s a real treat. And perhaps just maybe if it had a few more listeners it wouldn’t be as villified as it is today. Some people say that it would have had a better reception if it was marketed as a Doug Yule solo album, but I highly doubt that would have turned any of these tracks into hits. Besides, I’ve already pointed out that the Velvet Underground has had the urge to write upbeat pop songs throughout their career, and the results on Squeeze shouldn’t come as a surprise to anyone who owns Fully Loaded. Sure, this may not be the same band that wrote “Heroin,” but it’s a natural outgrowth from the band that wrote “Rock & Roll.”

I, for one, vote to welcome Squeeze back into the official Velvet Underground discography.

-Posted by Todd