My recent posts on Duran Duran have prompted me to mine the past a bit, trying to trace a path backwards to a suitable origin. I ended up at the Velvet Underground, which is typical, for nearly every pop-art musical road ultimately leads either to or from the Velvet Underground. They are the crossroads.

I dare say that few bloggers, if any, are currently ruminating on the connection between the Velvet Underground and Duran Duran, but that, after all, is why God gave the world Catbirdman, I suppose (hopefully that’s not the only reason). I shall, then, humbly take up the role and fill the void. In the words of Adrian Monk, you’ll thank me later.

And so begins yet another continuing series of posts here on Subanimal Sounds (I seem to keep starting these things and never finish them…). This one will last 22 posts, will weave its way through the 1970s, and will culminate in Duran Duran’s first single. Every entry will have two things in common: 1. the artist will be one cited by a member or members of Duran Duran as a formative influence; and 2. the song will be, by Catbirdman standards, absolutely fabulous.

And so we begin, as have so many would-be musos, with the Velvet Underground. If any group has been more pivotal than this, I challenge anyone to name them/him/her. We’ve heard it all a hundred times or more: the band hand-picked (more or less) by Andy Warhol, coupled with Nico, ignored commercially, embraced critically forever after. Not many people listened to the Velvets at the time, but those who did formed a band, talked about forming a band, bla bla bla.

One of those people was the young Nick Rhodes, née Bates, the future stylist par excellence of each individual (and every one was different, which remains a true feat of genius) Duran Duran offering, be it a bum-pumping single or a cerebrum-thumping album cut, of the 1980s. Nick was a late convert to the Velvets, having had to overcome an early prejudice against the lo-fi, deceptively off-key scrapings of the primitive sound. He learned quickly, as did all of those artistically inclined, that the primal was subtle, dressed in unconscious sophistication, and ultimately essential.

The Velvet Underground is essential for any musical education. As countless others have testified, here is a seminal track that lies at the root of countless other seminal tracks… from the Velvet Underground’s third album, I give you, “What Goes On”…

The Velvet Underground: What Goes On

Stereolab taps into the Pulse

Tonight’s post is for an old friend of mine named Thad. He used to play guitar on stage with me back in ye olde salad days. We influenced each other quite a lot musically. From him, I got a general openness to musical delight. I credit mainly him and Kurt Lightner for that. They showed me that you can be a sponge, sucking up any old muck, and at the same time you can have standards. I was so stuck on a twisted definition of what was “cool” and what wasn’t.

What did Thad get from me? Ultimately you’d have to ask him, but I will relate one thing he once said in mixed company. He credited me for being the conduit to the appreciation of the Sacred Eighth Note. I suppose it really took off with the Velvet Underground (and someone – Crozier? – please chime in with a half-remembered quotation … was it Lou Reed who first spoke of this?), but it’s a hallmark of the post-punk era, it has resurfaced like clockwork every ten years or so, and it has remained my heartbeat ever since the teenage years. It’s a monotony, it’s a haze, it’s the sound of getting lost in music. It’s the Eighth Note Pulse. All hail.

I asked Thad what he remembered most about our shared musical experiences, and he mentioned some of the music posted below. So to Thad, then…

Thad, I had great, formative times with you. Thanks for helping me embrace my cool and for sharing in it. Tonight, I’ll post some songs that conjure up that aesthetic, and later, anytime after tonight in fact, you can check in on this blog, and chances are I will be posting some marvellous shapes and colors that I might have remained closed to had it not been for your generous spirit.

I’ve attempted to trace this religious rhythm at various touchpoints through recent years, starting with the Velvet Underground (the original?), and on to Joy Division (perfectors of the post-punk signature, and suitably, they carry the Pulse on the bass), Echo & The Bunnymen (close echoes and a seminal example in “Back Of Love”), the Cocteau Twins (progenitors of the ’90s shoegaze swell), the Boo Radleys (the most inventive of the shoegazers), and ending with Interpol (the original resuscitators of the ‘Aughts). From Interpol onwards, it just gets crazy, as do many things, with the profileration of ideas brought on by the Information Age. Further below, I’ve posted a fine example of the mantra in the Soft Pack’s double-sided package of bliss. And anyone who has ever namechecked the Arcade Fire will testify that the Eighth Note beats on. Much to our delight.

And please, let us all know what I have overlooked.

Velvet Underground: I’m Waiting For The Man
Joy Division: Transmission
Echo & The Bunnymen: The Back Of Love
Cocteau Twins: Cherry-Coloured Funk
Boo Radleys: Skyscraper
Interpol: Obstacle 2