Customer Reviews
It reminds me of a love for Germany
Nico is the real angel of death moaning out of some archaic beach and time. A convoluted mess of darkness and sequence, arbitrary singing of the Devil's upbringing, in-and-out frequence of vynil from the thirteenth-century.
When I speak of lost gems, I find the two great examples every time: Van Morrison's Astral Weeks and Nico's Desertshore. They are both the yin and the yang to each other; absolute, beautiful light, and the real danger of evil caught on tape, from someone who knew what evil was in heroin.
Both are masterworks of the entire 60's idiom, relating a strength in music that is the work and inspiration, or should be, for writing songs today. Sinnead O' Connor once said that Van Morrison should be "Friggin' Canonized", well the same goes for the queen to his kingship. Although they are in opposite moods of each other, both evolute into an effortless beauty, one that transcends the tired tradition of singing, into something that man cannot grasp, like some holy scepter or a church-goer with real faith and tears. Even if you're an aetheist to the "church" of either of these albums, you must at least notice their pure conviction, and respect that. You may be extremely religious, or extremely scientific, but if you do not respect man at his greatest, or at least try to understand him, you're not worth your salt. Give this album a chance and you will be rewarded beyond your wildest dreams.
Nico obviously retains an airiness of timelessness about her. Whether that is because she uses a voice so natural, organic, and deeply german, or because of the music sounding like something of BACH or Beethoven, I don't know. However, I can feel deep down in my soul a place of peace where I could be sitting on a stone in dreary scotland, or sunny Gothic Germany, or old Rome, and still enjoy what some would call modernist-wreck. Just think if people could access Nico like the who?
This album may never find the viewer it deserves because of its thick beauty. It's so good that some who may listen to stuff like 50 cent, or Conor Oberst, would get chills from something real. It's like if you don't eat Burger King, or McDonalds for awhile, and then you eat it again, you notice just how bad those burgers were. Try, for Godsakes, just once, not listening to something easy. Try to have some patience is this nightmare world of instant connection. If you can listen to Radiohead without vomiting, then you ought to be able to listen this.
For the reason of knowing Genius, disregard magazines like spin, or blender, or even Rolling Stone. They made an entire list of the best hundred, or even 500, and this album did not appear on either of any. This album deserves to be right alongside any of the top 20 every time, yet people ignore it. Screw magazines.
I refuse to describe the songs, because each does not deserve to be brought down by such frugal description. All I will say, is that they should remaster this and find outtakes, just like they should Astral Weeks.
A Life Changing Album
" It didn't even occur to me to submit an entry. A local newspaper recently ran a poll (and published a follow-up article) on the albums that readers found had "changed their lives. I have many albums that changed my life in some sense, just as there have been a number of books and movies that I could also describe in such terms. But for the most part, I find that if they really did change me, it probably has to do more with the cumulative effect of exposing myself to a variety of musical (or literary, or cinematic) works over the course of my life.
In other words, to put it bluntly, my first reaction was that the entire poll was pretty stupid. But then, well after the results had been tallied and the article had appeared, it occurred to me that there really was at least ONE album that had a direct bearing on my life choices, and in effect, literally changed the course of my life.
I was a Freshman in college and already a serious Nico fan when DESERTSHORE was released. I had been kind of shopping around for a major--although it appeared that I would probably end up yielding to pretty much the prediction that everyone I knew seemed to hold regarding my academic career. They all had me pegged as a typical English lit major. Out of sheer contrariness, I felt I had to find something else to specialize in.
Then I heard Nico singing in German--two tracks from DESERTSHORE that apparently came from the soundtrack of a French avant-garde film (by Philippe Garrel) called LA CICATRICE INTERIEURE (the inner scar). Of course, I had heard pop songs and folk songs sung in German before, and there was always something I liked about the sound and the feel of the language, but hearing Nico sing "Abschied" and "Muetterlein" for the first time was just one of those moments. I decided then and there that I MUST learn the German language. Even though, I had already completed my language requirements with French, I signed up for a German course as soon as I possibly could, was completely taken by its sound and structure, went to Germany to study and ultimately got a Masters degree in German language and literature.
Seemed like a pretty good deal at the time. . . I mean, I got to read books. . . and learned another language in the process. What could be better? (The fact that I feel like I've been spending the greater part of my adult life trying to play catch-up on English language literature nothwithstanding).
I can't really explain the pull that the entire album (and those two songs in particular) had over me. Nico's English language compositions and vocals had always held a certain allure. They were still fundamentally "foreign" even when sung in my mother tongue. Those mournful vocals with their stretched out vowels, the jagged and sometimes bizarre imagery. No native English speaker would sing like that--or WRITE like that. Cynics--and there were many--might point out that some of the images were almost comically off (e. g. "janitor of lunacy") and there were a number out-and-out mispronuniciations rather than intentional distortions "fal-con-eer" for "falconer. " Such things were part of the package--you either bought 'em or you didn't. The self-appointed "dean" of rock critics (you know the guy) once wrote that while he had first thought Nico had charisma, her own compositions convinced him that she was "a fool. "
I could go on and on about, say, the cultural difference between a German "Hausmeister" and the faintly comic American figure of the "janitor. " But that would be pointless. You either love "Janitor of Lunacy" for what it is and is not, or it means nothing to you. You either allow for the "falconeer" pronunciation and then immerse yourself in the song--or you find it ridiculous and pass it by.
The inclusion of the sweet French children's song "Le Petit Chevalier" sung by her son, Ari, and the two German language tracks should have at least humbled the wiseacre American naysayers a little bit. John Cale has long argued that Nico (and to a large degree, Cale himself) came from a completely different tradition, a European high art tradition, that was in many ways the antithesis of American rock 'n'roll. Hooking up with Lou Reed, changed all that for both Cale and--to a lesser extent--Nico, but once they embarked on establishing Nico's trademark sound for her post-Reed solo albums, they instinctively went back to their avant-garde/medieval European roots. Lou who? Andy who?
And it worked brilliantly on its own terms. THE MARBLE INDEX and DESERTSHORE remain utterly unique in the history of, uh, rock'n'roll. It took a Germanic warrior princess to put the Goth in Gothic. Which is what made INDEX so monumental. It was imperious. Someone below pointed out that DESERTSHORE is a bit warmer than its predecessor, and there's some truth in that. Both albums contain songs dedicated to her son, but DESERTSHORE actually follows "My Only Child" with the chanson actually sung by the young Christian Aaron Paeffgen Delon. But then the mood shifts dramatically from French airiness to Teutonic austerity with "Abschied. " Of course, once you know that "Muetterlein" is translated as "Dear Little Mother," you get a hint of the Schmaltz behind the Weltschmerz. But that's part of Nico's appeal. Just when you're sure that she was a ghostly apparition, it turns out that she was someone's mother--and someone's daughter. And an eternal enigma.
Capable of changing someone's life--a little anyway.
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Everyone needs to hear this
Her voice, her lyrics. Among the travesties of popular culture that sicken me most, is the effortless, almost immediate dismissal of Nico's musical brilliance. . . anything to do with her so as to fail to admit to one's self, the true curiosity she evokes.
This album blows away any cares I could have about that, or so many other things, as her resonating emotions carry me away with her every phrasing. The sounds evoke the highest of superlatives with inexpressible passion kindled in my brain. Each song is a powerful testament to the ominous wonder that ebbs and flows throughout this life we live in, with heavenly melodies that leave me aghast, and attain ageless prescience within my inquiring soul.
Think what you like of my glowing compliments, but the mideval, and worldly-lyrics-by-way-of-the-otherworldly-sounds, will never cease to amaze me. Nor will any other voice chill me to a glorious rapture as does hers. This album is perfect.
. You can see a complete list of all Nico discography, or go back to the Nico tabs
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