Nico
Camera Obscura

Nico is a legend; she was born as a seductive and graceful top-model and movie star - her imposing presence in her body and the powerful pride in her gait were incredible, her stony gaze chilling - and then, poisoned by the genius that had always been innate in her, she grew and died as a sad and sculptural muse of sepulchral music. And her impeccable and statuesque figure rests unchanged and ever-glowing, and her voice still echoes, similar to that of a boy, capable of being firm and inexorable, yet also sweet - in its marble hardness - tender, weak, almost innocent; and her songs echo too - apocalyptic and wonderful - true funeral marches capable of touching the human soul in its deepest and most hidden side for new and more intense explorations of that dark tangle of questions, hypotheses, and existential doubts that have tormented the mind of humankind from the first day of Life.

Released in '85, "Camera Obscura" is the most mysterious and fascinating - and in my opinion the most beautiful - work of her entire extraordinary musical career in which she created some of the most ingenious works of Art in all of Contemporary Music: from "Desertshore", produced by her friend and lover John Cale, (in which even places for a tender yet chilling French nursery rhyme, "Le Petit Chevalier", performed by her son Ari - fathered by the famous actor and director Alain Delon - who was then no more than four years old) to "The End", (in which Our Lady reinterprets the Doors' Masterpiece in a slower and darker key - but this does not hold up against her other live version, magical and hypnotic, contained in the highly recommended "June 1st 1974"). And I do not mention the chilling "The Marble Index" or the softer and livelier "Chelsea Girl", her debut solo album, nor her famous and epochal "The Velvet Underground & Nico", which was never dear to her and her fans because in the Velvet cult she would always play the untruthful role of the passing pretty-girl-without-talent jammed among a group of very talented individuals because she had sometimes gone to bed with the producer and financier - I humbly ask for their forgiveness, oh great Andy, they know not what they do. But let's not digress; let's instead talk about the situation Christa was in at the time: a recognized and honored chanteuse, she had managed to become a symbol, an icon for entire generations, an exquisite summary of all those beautiful girls who, in past decades, had become the lovers of famous and powerful men through their allure and intellect, and who ultimately managed to accomplish things of their own, sometimes even quite well (of which our own Amanda Lear is another perfect example). She had conquered, our Lady, the maximum limit of popularity which also allowed for extreme devotion from the small and exclusive niche of underground music enthusiasts; her unforgettable "Live In Tokyo" was not far off, just one of many dates of a tour that now reached places all over the world, both as a glorious support act to giants like Siouxsie, Joy Division, and David Bowie, and as the sole protagonist surrounded by cheering fans. She was undoubtedly at the pinnacle of her career.

The situation was not as happy in her private life, tormented by personal pains (the loss of her mother and her separation from Delon) which she vainly tried to lighten with heroin, alcohol, and cigarettes; from those years came a sad statement: "A true artist must self-destruct, it seems I'm succeeding". All this testifies to - and justifies - the particularly dark nature of "Camera Obscura". The sound is black, dark, enriched by electronic parts and a complex of few instruments (keyboards, percussion, and harmonium) where hypnotically, repeatedly in some songs, including the beautiful title track, abrupt metallic sounds appear, while Our Lady's voice, hoarser than usual due to cigarettes and her no longer youthful age, appears lost and restless: however, not so lost, abstract, and independent of the melodic structure (see "The Marble Index") but seems more orderly, more schematized and conforming to the 'song form' norms. However, this does not exclude a range of vocal nuances: the characteristic sound is poor and the rhythm is incessantly repeated, entirely supported by Nico's imperious voice, sometimes lively - see the splendid "Tananore", Arabesque tones, where the beginning of the verse is so whispered that it's hard to recognize Paffgen's voice, which then unleashes in the finale - or ethereal - "Into The Arena" will be the soundtrack of your greatest fears - or, finally, impassive - "Fearfully in Danger" the Masterpiece of the album in which Nico implacably repeats the words, pronouncing them with a grotesque tone and interpreting them at the limit of comprehension. An honorary place is clearly reserved for the magnificent and moving "My Funny Valentine" (adopted as a title - but with a modification that gives it a decidedly more macabre meaning - by a famous group as the founder of "shoegazing"; you know who they are, don't you?) in which, accompanied by sweet keyboard notes, Nico's voice, hoarser and more masculine than ever, at the peak of sexual ambiguity, shows us her sweet and tender side, her love and sadness poem, the last song of a swan that would have little left to suffer for a life full of pain and desolation. Indeed, only a few more years of suffering would have separated her from a death that remains mysterious even today.

Christa Paffgen dies at 8:00 p.m. on July 18, 1988, at Cannes Nisto Hospital, where they unsuccessfully tried to revive her. The diagnosis is: death due to internal bleeding caused by a trivial fall from a bicycle, at her villa in Ibiza, where she used to spend her summer holidays. The accident was also caused by the massive dose of narcotics and antidepressants she had taken a little earlier that had left her very weak, languishing. A cruel and fascinating death, an important and final, ultimate piece of the life of a still immortal woman.

Years later, in the now distant 1998, the talented Susanne Ofteringer made a well-crafted documentary that narrates her biography with exceptional mastery and gathers her famous songs.
The title of this documentary? NICO-ICON!

My funny valentine Sweet comic valentine You make me smile with my heart. [. . . ]But don't change your hair for me, Not if you care for me. Stay little valentine, stay! Each day is Valentine's Day.