Transformer kicks off with the aptly titled "Vicious", a stiff, snot-nosed Godzilla of a rock song, decked out in leather and eye shadow, and drenched in the kind of punchy power chords intimately familiar to anyone owning VU's odds-and-sods compilations. Lou himself, by contrast, sounds as intimate as ever on the record's more sedate tracks, crooning in a sensitive lilt that maintains his blissful, effortless cool. But with a solid base, the ornate arrangements help bring these songs to life, lending Reed's music a broader palette. Their production work was so loaded that, were it not for the incredibly focused songs beneath, it might have been overbearing. It's still fascinating to hear Reed outside the messy underproduction of the Velvets, yet even with Bowie and Ronson broadening the arrangements, Transformer feels remarkably natural. It also works as an interesting diversion from most of VU's work: where they clearly had a full-band aesthetic, and often leaned toward the avant-garde, Transformer took the strong pop undercurrent that ran throughout their records and indulged. Thirty years on, Transformer still sounds startlingly fresh, free from many of the clichés that taint other similarly minded records of the period. When given the chance, Bowie and guitarist Mick Ronson offered to produce Reed's solo follow-up: what followed was undeniably one of both glam rock's and Reed's finest moments, one that gave him a left-field radio hit and a blueprint for much of his solo work to follow. One of his progeny, a young David Bowie, was hot off the success of his chart-topping The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust, and was perhaps the most vociferous in his love of the Velvets and the incalculable influence they'd had on his music. It was the first mainstream rock movement to openly acknowledge the Velvets' influence, and in Marc Bolan, Ian Hunter and Bryan Ferry, Reed began to see his protégés: the coarse, primal rock 'n' roll he pioneered had found its audience. Glam rock began to flower in 1971, and by the following year had swept up countless British kids, turning them from restless, discontended youths to consummate, androgynous hipsters decked out in platforms, sequins and imposing hair. At the same time, a new trend was emerging across the pond.
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