1. The Cover.
Andy Warhol's banana print is an instantly recognisable badge of cred to anyone flicking through your stack of vinyl.
Should you own a first edition, with the peel-sticker revealing a flesh-coloured banana beneath, insure it for a minimum of $3000.
2. Subject Matter.
Remember, this is 1967. Songs about drug use, sadism and masochism, death, prostitution and literary mentors weren't the everyday phenomenon they are today.
3. Nico.
The striking blonde German chanteuse imbues Femme Fatale, All Tomorrow's Parties and I'll Be Your Mirror with an icy detachment that hints at a soul badly damaged yet capable of intimidation and retribution.
4. Lou Reed.
These are his songs, from the delicate, simple, radio-friendly single Sunday Morning to the cathartic album-closer European Son.
His laconic, hood-eyed, street-savvy New Yorkness is given its first chance to shine here.
5. John Cale.
The perfect foil for Reed, and the man who provides the centrifugal force within the Velvets' music that keeps it on the outer fringes of rock.
Whether making his electric viola drone or shriek, or hitting a stack of plates with a chair to launch European Son's lengthy improvisation, Cale is a dominant presence.
6. The Vibe.
When you spin this disc, you can easily picture the boho scene in Warhol's Factory studio or at an Exploding Plastic inevitable multimedia happening as the Velvets and Nico provided the soundtrack to all manner of eccentricities.
Shiny leather boots and all.
7. Inspiration.
There's a possibly apocryphal account of Brian Eno noting that hardly anyone bought a Velvet Underground album, but that everyone who did went on to start a band.
Who knows? Perhaps we should check the local collections of Messrs Downes, Phillipps and Kilgour?
