John Cale

Albums Reviewed

Vintage Violence (1970)
Paris 1919 (1973)
Fear (1974)
Slow Dazzle (1975)
Helen Of Troy (1975)

Vintage Violence

(1970)
While his former Velvet Underground bandmate Lou Reed has enjoyed a far higher public profile, John Cale has always been like an invisible hand guiding the alternative music scene, producing crucial albums by The Modern Lovers, The Stooges, Patti Smith, and Nico, and appearing on albums by Nick Drake, Eno and Super Furry Animals. Even further under the radar is his lengthy and artistically successful solo career, which despite covering territory from punk to classical, is far more accessible than his reputation as a chicken-decapitating avant-gardist would suggest. In particular, his debut is downright pleasant in places, owing far more to the down-home pastoral feel on The Band's first records than the primitive garage rock of White Light, White Heat. Even if this album feels less purposeful than Cale's best work, with little venom or significance in the lyrics, there's plenty of musical content, effortlessly melodic and more formally composed than much of his other work; Cale states that he was following the lead of pop acts like The Bee Gees. Vintage Violence was recorded with the band Grinderswitch, and rehearsed and recorded within three days, a speed that's not betrayed in the album's tasteful and tight veneer.

The most memorable songs are the atmospheric pieces that close the album - 'Ghost Story' is driven by an eerie organ part, while 'Amsterdam' is pared down almost to an acoustic guitar strum and evocative lyrics ("She's back from Amsterdam/And I think the journey did her well"). The pretty 'Big White Cloud' is arranged and conducted by Cale himself, while the opening 'Hello There' shows off Cale's piano fluency. Some of the materials veers surprisingly close to country-rock, several years before the Eagles, with pedal steel adorning 'Bring It On Up'. Songs like 'Cleo' are surprisingly light-weight and romantically focused, and seem almost disposable by Cale's standards. The only piece that's remotely avant-garde is the bonus track 'Wall', six awesome minutes of electric viola scraping. In contrast, a lot of Vintage Violence is plain gorgeous and inherently musical; it just doesn't feel as significant as Cale's best work, even if it's surprisingly hooky and accessible. It showcases a light and playful side of Cale that would become more and more submerged as his recorded oeuvre became darker and more demanding.


Paris 1919

(1973)
If Vintage Violence was a surprisingly mild debut for the edgiest member of the Velvet Underground, Paris 1919 is even more genteel, musically sophisticated and literate. It's a step forward from the uncertain, if musically intuitive, Vintage Violence, its themes of twentieth century history, culture and nostalgia giving it a more unified feel than its predecessor. Surprisingly, some of the musical backing comes from Little Feat members Lowell George and Richie Hayward; while their influence is obvious in the mid-record rocker 'Macbeth', they're delicate and restrained elsewhere. The UCLA Symphony Orchestra also features on the record, giving tracks like 'The Endless Plain Of Fortune' a sophisticated veneer with their rich orchestration, and the orchestration and Cale's piano are the dominant textures on the record.

The only tracks that deviate from the sophisticated, orchestrated sound are the rocker 'Macbeth', which is miles out of place on the otherwise subdued record, and the creepy, half-whispered closer 'Antarctica Starts Here'. The title track is perhaps Cale's finest recorded song, with its elegant melody and its instrumentation almost entirely comprised of orchestration. 'Hanky Panky Nohow' is less controversial than its name would imply, while 'Graham Greene' almost feels like a Ray Davies composition. It's difficult to discuss Paris 1919 in too much depth - it's just full of elegant melodies and arrangements, that never veer close to cheap sentimentality or saccharine, and any fan of literate pop would be well advised to grab this.


Fear

(1974)
The rough edges that were almost entirely absent from Vintage Violence and Paris 1919 start to surface here. This is largely a result of collaborating with Roxy Music alumni Eno, Phil Manzanera and Andy Mackay, who help Cale to add the abrasiveness and the musical experimentation that was largely absent from his earlier solo records. In retrospect, the Eno and Cale liaison seems almost inevitable; both were the sonic innovators in their respective bands, before they were squeezed out by their band's leaders after two albums. Cale writes that "the main point was to keep on doing the stuff that Lou had refused to keep doing in the Velvet Underground", and far more than his first two records, this is the grownup successor to the experiments on White Light/White Heat. It's also a logical successor to his first two solo records, as half the tracks here are still pretty ballads that would have fitted fine onto either of those albums. With this divergent mix of styles, Fear stands as Cale's quintessential work, showing his ability to write a melodic piano song 'Ship Of Fools' and follow it up with the abrasive, experimental 'Gun' with its conceptual "joint solo" from Manzanera and Eno.

'Fear Is A Man's Best Friend' sets the tone of the record nicely, kicking off as accessible piano pop before disintegrating into diving basslines, chaotic guitar and Cale's screaming (apparently inspired by a college performance art piece entitled "Scream At A Potted Plant Until It Dies"). Out of the other rock-oriented material, folk-rocker Richard Thompson guests alongside Manzanera and Bryn Haworth on the awesome triple slide guitar attack of 'Momamma Scuba', another sonic innovation. The centre-piece though, is the eight minutes of 'Gun', based around a hypnotic guitar riff, then unleashing an outlandish joint solo between Manzanera and Eno, with Eno treating Manzanera's guitar solo through his synthesiser. On the quieter half of the record, a pretty baroque piano figure underpins the gorgeous 'Ship Of Fools', 'Buffalo Ballet' presents a romanticised take on the colonisation of America, while 'Emily' is delicate and graceful. The strongest album from Cale's early solo career, Fear does a great job of showcasing both his tender side, and his abrasive, experimental side, so it's also an excellent place to get a feel for his solo career. Try and grab The Island Years which features Fear and his two subsequent Island albums in their entirety, as well as some bonus tracks.


Slow Dazzle

(1975)
Cale's fourth pop album is his least coherent yet, following the template of Fear but with far more scattershot results, veering from mid-seventies mainstream to cathartic rockers and experimental pieces that would fit comfortably onto the first Velvet Underground records. Cale was bursting with creative melodies and chord sequences at this time, but there's virtually nothing linking these tracks together - it's just a compendium of ten random Cale tracks, and the mainstream piano pop of songs like 'Rollaroll' and 'Ski Patrol' is melodic but loses significance next to intense material like 'Guts' and a psychotic cover of 'Heartbreak Hotel'.

There's at least one classic here, the opening 'Mr Wilson', a tribute to the architect of the Beach Boys albums that Cale kept on high rotation, featuring an athletic vocal and the geographically pertinent lyric "Wales is not like Cali-forni-ay in any way." 'Guts', a reaction to Cale's wife's affair with Kevin Ayers on the eve of the Eno/Nico/Cale/Ayers June 1 1974 live album, is full of chunky guitar riffs and psychotic lyrics, while 'Darling I Need You' bounces along on a bright country beat . More abstractly, 'The Jeweller' recalls the Velvet Underground with its drone and bizarre monologue, while on the other extreme, the crisp lead guitar and the female backing vocals on 'I'm Not The Loving Kind' could have come from a Wings album. There's some really strong Cale music on Slow Dazzle, and it's surprisingly listenable given its apparently aimless diversity, but Cale's capable of far better.


Helen Of Troy

(1975)
Another mid seventies vein, very much in the vein of his previous record, but a bit stronger and a bit nastier. Working with a primary core of musicians of guitarist Chris Spedding, bassist Pat Donaldson, and drummer Timmi Donald, Cale's approach to songcraft was becoming more improvisational and immediate. Instead of bringing carefully crafted songs into the studio, as with the genteel Paris 1919, some of these songs were relatively spontaneous. For instance, 'Engine' starts as a gentle piano ballad, before losing shape and collapsing into cathartic screaming and piano thumping. At the same time, there's more noticeable orchestration than the previous albums, with Robert Kirby, who also worked on Nick Drake's Five Leaves Left, adding strings and choir. The choir adds drama to 'My Maria', while the orchestra punctuates the title track and adds depth to the torch song 'I Keep A Close Watch'. Like Slow Dazzle, Helen Of Troy is eclectic in mood, possibly a fair reflection of Cale's mental state at the time, although the liner notes point out that the studio renditions were merely working sketches of the "full blown psychodramas" that the songs became on tour.

On the gentle side, the most notable song is 'I Keep A Close Watch', which Cale unsuccessfully wished Sinatra to cover; as much as it's difficult to see Sinatra tackle any other song on this record, 'I Keep A Close Watch' is surprisingly universal, and it's not hard to imagine it becoming a standard if it wasn't buried in the middle of a semi-obscure mid-seventies album by a weird arty psychotic dude who used to be in the Velvet Underground. Cale also has a crack at the Modern Lovers' 'Pablo Picasso', from their debut album which he had assisted with production for, and his take is much more venomous than Richman's wide eyed naivety. Even nastier is 'Leaving It Up To You', which was removed from later versions of the album for its Charles Manson references ("I know we could all feel safe/Like Sharon Tait"). 'Baby, What You Want Me To Do?' is a surprisingly effective blues rocker, while 'Sudden Death' is a dramatic closer with its foreboding piano runs and organ swells. The five songs cited above make up the second side, and it's one of Cale's finest moments, but the first half isn't as strong: the jaunty 'China Sea' is irritating, while 'Cable Hogue' sounds much better in its acoustic reading on Fragments Of A Rainy Season. Helen Of Troy was Cale's last studio album for Island Records, and his next album wouldn't be released until 1979, an album of new material recorded live in concert.


The Island Years

(1996)
Compilation which includes Fear, Slow Dazzle and Helen Of Troy in their entireties, as well as a few extra tracks and some nice liner notes. It was my introduction to Cale and it worked for me, and it's generally reasonably priced as well.

Sabotage/Live

(1979)

Honi Soit

(1981)

Music For A New Society

(1982)

Caribbean Sunset

(1983)

Artificial Intelligence

(1985)
I've never really seen any of these; I hear that Music For A New Society is one of Cale's best records, while Sabotage/Live also sounds intriguing.

Random Album Pick: Hüsker Dü - Zen Arcade

1984's double album Zen Arcade, their artistic breakthrough and their most challenging and significant album, was recorded and mixed in an astounding 85 hours straight.



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Written 2001-2007, Graham Fyfe