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Talk about one of the most depressing and underated artists of all time,she was goth before there was such a term...that voice, like Marlene Deitrich on heroin, heh. After a recent tragedy I pulled out "The Marble Index" which I always considerd music to slash one's wrist by, love it but only when in the mood, then I dusted off "Desert Shore". Equally amazing and disturbing. Next I'll be pulling out the Sylvia Plath! (no, it ain't that bad).
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I will never forget her impromptu solo touring during the mid-to-late 1980's. She would hop a plane from wherever she was living at the time-- usually the south of France-- with only her harmonium, and show up on the East or West coast to do a small bunch of performances in the smaller, more intimate venues. Always stellar and amazing, she made quite a few audiences weep... and frequently burst into tears herself. I saw her once in L.A. and many times in NYC, including booking her at the Pyramid, when she got into my apartment, climbed into bed with me, and shook me awake. But that's another story... Eek

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I remember seeing Nico on that hamonium tour! She played this lil hole in the wall club in Liverpool (UK) called The Warehouse. There was only about 30 people there a small group of us which btw inc. Holly from Frankie Goes to Hollywood, and Wayne Hussey (Sisters of Mercy / Mission UK).... There was a dialogue from her on the stage to us at her feet throughout the whole 'gig' very funny. She then stepped off the stage and sat drinking pints with us and we were just kids in Liverpool in awe to meet someone from the "warhol set" LOL LOL
Nico died of an apparent cerebral hemorrhage following a fall in much the same way as Sandy Denny. And yes it was in Ibiza, AN.

As far as Nico and I, AB, she once "broke into" my apartment somehow, climbed into my bed and shook me awake-- scared the shit outta me too-- for an "advance" on her show.

And yes Daddy, she had a son named Ari who was totally gorge-- after all, Alain Delain was his father. I think he lives on the Costa Brava now
(sigh.)
That must have been after she sprayed her blood from a syringe on the wall of my bathroom upstairs, horrifying my then-roommate, Layle. But I truly thought sangre real!

That apartment above the Pyramid later did a stint as a poetry/performance space in the 1990's, run by the poet Larry Jones, who, when he heard my story, named it "Cafe Nico."
Last edited by hatches
That's right he was Delon... and yes he was hot!

And speaking of French New Wave cinema hotties, I once witnessed Jean-Paul Belmondo Senior and Jean-Paul Junior (who was about 21 and as hot as his Daddy) having a fist fight on a sidestreet in Paris-- it was a dispute about a car and a woman, words were exchanged and fists flew. I was in awe. Daddy won, BTW.

Here's Mr. Delon...

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