More about: John Cale

The following admission might forever cost me my In The Know credentials: I didn’t realise that John Cale (of course the driving force behind The Velvet Underground’s (VU) most leftfield works on their first two records) was still making music. After listening to his latest album, MERCY, though, a quick peruse of Spotify puts me to shame. His output has been quite consistent.

Tickets to see the man himself are quite expensive, and this is reflected in the audience demographic. As I stood at the back of the Palladium before taking my seat, the crowd’s crowns formed a magnificent grey carpet leading to Cale and his band on stage. At this moment I realised that I didn’t really know what to expect. Cale is an octogenarian now, but the mythology of The Velvet Underground is so pervasive. Could they even play their instruments? Were they visionaries or just amphetamine-addled thrill seekers who got lucky because they happened to be in the arty circles?

Cale played a long and varied setlist – the groundwork was laid with MERCY, and it was decorated by some of his other solo material. But it was not all equal. As the set went on, he shed pop convention, and I became more engrossed. To misuse a quote from one of Cale’s austere peers, Lou Reed, ‘One chord is fine. Two chords is pushing it. Three chords and you’re into jazz.’ When Cale pushes the sonic boat out and does this version of jazz, it is better than ‘fine’, and that’s kind of what I came for.

At any rate, Cale and his current band can definitely play their instruments (he has had several decades to practice). Perhaps – they can play them too well. At the beginning of the set they were giving something between session musicians and secondary school battle of the bands (the drummer looked like 2023 Skrillex). The lukewarm visuals beamed up behind them felt like an admission of tiredness, as if good musicians playing good music wasn’t enough. I guess there’s no winning when your reputation precedes you.

The problem really is that everyone in the room is reaching for something we can’t actually have. Cale and co. can only invent the wheel once, and thanks to iPhones (*shakes fist*) the myth and mystique that surrounded early VU performances can never be recreated. But once we accept that he’s not even trying to do that, a keen eye might detect that he retains much of his peculiarity, especially for a legacy act. He was draped in all black and big hi-tops: a quick Google search of ‘Rick Owens John Cale’ confirms that he is a devotee of the umm… unconventional high-end fashion designer. He also spoke fewer words on the Palladium stage than even Bob Dylan when I saw him, who is infamous for his chat-less shows.

Cale finished his set with ‘Half Past France’, an old song, and the song which closes MERCY, ‘OUT YOUR WINDOW’, during which the thought came to mind that Cale did for pianos and guitars what J Dilla did for rhythm, whatever that means. Then he played a cover for an unpompous encore: ‘Heartbreak Hotel’. It felt intentional, tightly balanced and deftly executed. For a brilliant but ultimately primitive track from the rock-pop canon, Cale hollowed it out and mummified it. Echoey, rhythmless, haunting – the opposite of rock n’ roll. Pretty smart of him: the last intention is always most lasting. It may not be early VU, but Cale is still steering his own ship.

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More about: John Cale