Chapter 37 - You Are Beautiful and You Are Alone: The Biography of Nico

David John Haskins, better known as David J, became aware of Nico through listening to the ‘banana’ album. ‘The first time I heard the Velvet Underground would have been in 1973. David Bowie was talking about them being an influence. Then I went out and got the first Velvets album and just loved it to bits. It’s a desert island disc for me. Top 5. It’s timeless. I love the flavour that Nico brought to it, both musically and visually.’

J’s personal memories of Nico dovetail with her often-discussed combination of beauty and sadness. However, he also brings a humanity, a levity to the singer that has been ignored and over­looked. ‘I thought she was stunningly beautiful,’ he tells me during our chat. ‘I saw her in La Dolce Vita, the Fellini film. She looks very mysterious and very enigmatic to me. I was fascinated with her right from the start. Then, when she started to make her own solo albums, I was really into that. I loved the fact that she adopted the harmonium as her instrument of choice, because I think that was a perfect accompaniment. I saw her live in the late ’70s. She was just solo with the harmonium. She ended the set with her version of the Doors’ “The End”, which was just so deep and beautiful. It was packed! Everyone was very respectful; it was a real listening audience. It needed to be because what she was doing was quietly intense.

‘She was melancholic and wallowed in sadness. She once said [does impression of Nico], “I am only happy when I am sad.” That’s true, because she saw the beauty in melancholia. It’s the Portuguese word saudade, which is this … there’s no translation in English, but it means longing for that which is lost. It can be a person or a place or just a feeling. She’s very much like that. I think that is very evi­dent in her music and her persona. She has that feeling, that bitter­sweet … it’s a nostalgia that’s beyond nostalgia. It’s a longing and a yearning, and it’s sort of like a sweet ache. That sweet ache is in her music. It’s something that I very much related to, and still do. There is a darkness to it, but there is light in there as well. I think she was a hyper-sensitive person. She was truly gothic in her presentation – beyond the obvious outer trappings of wearing black. It’s a deeper sense, an old sense. Beyond fashion. The gravitas of the gothic is there. It’s far too simplistic and reductive to simply say she was the “Garbo of goth”.’

J went on to found one of the most influential post-punk bands, Bauhaus. The group is hailed as being one of the pioneers of gothic rock music, a genre rife with dark imagery and melancholic lyrics. The band’s lead singer, Peter Murphy, had already met Nico, when she showed up during a recording session for their 1981 LP Mask. J recalls, ‘She’d previously met Peter; they exchanged numbers and he invited her to the session. He told her to come by any time as we were in London for two weeks of studio work. We [the rest of the band] weren’t in on this. I think Peter was out of the room when the intercom buzzer buzzed. I’d just finished playing my bass part. The intercom comes on and went through into the studios on a speaker. We hear [makes buzzing sound], “Hello, who is it?” [does impression of Nico] “It is me, Nico.” We thought somebody was having a laugh. “What? Who?” “Nico. It is me.” Then Daniel [Ash, Bauhaus guitar­ist] goes, “Yeah, and I’m fucking Lou Reed!” “No, it is really me!” Pete came in then and said, “Oh, it’s Nico! Let her in.” We were like, “What? It really is Nico?”

‘She comes in with her black robes, clutching a bottle of mezcal, some limes and salt. She taught me how to drink mezcal; it was the first time I’d tasted it. I sat in the corner with her because I’d done my bit and the others were doing their overdubs. We were kind of snuggled up. I just got whisper-chatting with her. I loved this little smile that would play around her features; it was this sad, soft smile. We were just talking, and I thought I’d just float this boat out there, thinking she’ll probably set it ablaze, this little paper boat, which was to ask her about the Velvet Underground. But she didn’t; she engaged. I said, “What was your favourite Velvet Underground song that you sang?” And she said, “‘I’ll Be Your Mirror’.” She said she always loved that song, and she told me she didn’t like “Femme Fatale”, and I expressed my surprise. I said, “Really? I love that song! You didn’t like that?” [does impression of Nico] “Well, I like the song but I don’t like the way that Lou sings ‘femme’. He sings ‘fem’, ‘fem’. I tell him, ‘Lou, no. It is [pronouncing it correctly] “femme”.’” Then she says, “But of course, he is stubborn and belligerent so he speaks still ‘fem’. Ruined it for me.”’

J is on the whole very respectful of Nico, yet even he makes a point about her appearance. ‘She looked somewhat haggard, but she still had a beauty. It was poignant because she was so stunning, but obviously needle-damaged. I remember when I was sitting next to her in the studio, I smelled this aroma. She wore this very heavy, heady, pungent perfume that was intoxicating, but underneath that was this weird chemical smell that comes from the drugs. That was disturbing.’

Nico joined Bauhaus to perform a version of ‘Waiting for the Man’ several times during the following months. One of these performances, at Fagin’s in Manchester on 23 October 1981, was recorded. J remembers the first time this collaboration happened was at none other than Rafters in Manchester. ‘When we did that first gig in Manchester, she was there because Alan Wise was her manager. He was also the promoter for our show, and she was with him, just watching us soundcheck. She approached us when we finished and requested that we do a song with her. She said we could do a Velvet Underground song. “What do you think, boys?” We said, “Yeah, great!” She went into our dressing room on her own. The security guy said, “That woman’s in there. I think she’s doing some drugs or something, sticking a needle in her bum.” Apparently, she was shooting up in there. She came out, and he was laughing. He didn’t know who she was. He was this big black guy with a thick Mancunian accent. I felt sad for her that she still was an addict to that degree. I felt sad that this guy was laughing at her and there was no appreciation of the artist that she was.

‘Daniel and I went back to the hotel. I remember we worked out “Waiting for the Man” by sticking our guitars into the sink to amplify them in the hotel room. We just worked it out there and then. We didn’t rehearse it with her at all; we just did it. They did it as a duet, Peter and Nico. She loved it, and then she wanted us to be her permanent live band afterwards and go on tour. She said [does impression of Nico], “Can you boys be my band? Play live all over Europe? Be great.” We actually considered it for about twenty minutes and then decided no, this is crazy. We’d got our own thing going on, so, “We can’t do that, Nico. Sorry. Sorry, love.” But then she turned up again and we did another show. That was in Salford, just outside of Manchester. That was a better version of “Waiting for the Man”, but it wasn’t the one that was recorded and released on a record. That was the first time [in Manchester]. Somebody just recorded it on a cassette player in the audience.’

Nico also regaled the young bassist with stories of paramours past. ‘She once gave me a list of her ex-lovers; it was very funny. We were in a hotel bar after we played with her the first time in Manchester. I was sitting with her having a drink. She had a crush on Peter Murphy. He was over on the other side of the room, and she was looking at him adoringly. She said [does impression of Nico], “Peter is a very beautiful boy.” I said, “Yeah, yeah.” She then said [does impression of Nico], “I have known many beautiful men. I’ve had many lovers.” She started to go through this list [does impression of Nico]: “Bob Dylan, Lou Reed, Jim Morrison.” It went on and on. [does impression of Nico] “I have loved and lost. Peter, he is very beautiful boy.”’2

J argues that Nico’s artistry has often been overshadowed by the men in her life and her problems with drugs. ‘The lasting legacy is her music. It’s stripped down to the essence of the emotion that she is conveying. It’s bare bones, and it’s so minimalist and immedi­ate. She’s totally unique. What is really key as well is when she was born and the shadow of World War II that loomed over her, and she was very aware of that. The Nazis and all of that. Berlin. She’s a product of her time, but a very singular personality who is being influenced by that time in history and commentating on it in her own creative way. She’s seeing it through a very singular lens. It’s a very acute observation. We are precariously seeing that world, and I feel privileged to have seen that, and we can still do it by listening to her music.’