Shortly before launching
the Velvet Underground, a young
Lou Reed worked as a staff songwriter for
Pickwick Records, a record label and music distribution company known for their tendency to chase trends and push out sound-alike versions of other popular hits.
Reed worked there between 1964 and 1965, writing dozens of commercially aimed songs while the foundations were forming for what would be his most lasting contribution to music history.
Why Don't You Smile Now: Lou Reed at Pickwick Records 1964-65 is a delightful compilation of over 20 of the songs
Reed penned for the label that made it to the recording studio in some form. In the Brill Building-like setting of the
Pickwick offices,
Reed approached whatever was making waves on the charts at the time. This included girl group/R&B fare like the songs "Oh No Don't Do It" and "Love Can Make You Cry," which were recorded by soul singer
Ronnie Dickerson and evoke the same sweet melodrama as popularized by the
Red Bird Records roster around the same time.
Reed also approached beachy surf rock with the
Jan & Dean knockoff "Teardrop in the Sand" by
the Hollywoods, "I've Got a Tiger in My Tank" (very much in the early style of
the Beach Boys) by
the Beachnuts, and the slightly absurd girl group tragedy ballad "Johnny Won't Surf No More" by
Jeannie Larimore.
Reed wearing his
Phil Spector/
Joe Meek hat makes for some fun and entertaining tunes, but
Why Don't You Smile Now also succeeds at exposing some of the formative elements of
the Velvet Underground that
Reed was developing during this phase. The title track, cut by a band called
the All Night Workers, was co-written by soon-to-be-
Velvet John Cale, and the shimmering drone of the guitars forecasts the clouded sunrays of psychedelia that
Reed and
Cale would take to far uglier places on
the Velvet Underground's 1966 debut. Tunes by
Reed's pre-
VU band
the Primitives tap into some of the proto-punk angst that he'd later perfect on
the Velvets' most sardonic work, with "Sneaky Pete" and "The Ostrich" reimagining teenage dance craze tunes in a nihilistic and overdriven way that only
Reed could. This collection is at its most intriguing in the brief moments where listeners can hear
Reed experimenting with these ideas, ones he'd fully realize a little further down the road with
the Velvet Underground. These moments show up fairly unambiguously in the sadistic sneering of
the Primitives, but they're also there to be found just a little bit deeper below the surface of songs where
Reed was trying his best to emulate simplistic pop music but couldn't keep his inherent darkness from showing. ~ Fred Thomas