Nico was one of the most mysterious and fascinating figures in the history of rock.
After the successful adventure with the Velvet Underground in the eponymous '67 album, she embarked on a solo career, bestowing two albums upon history: "Marble Index" and this immense "Desertshore", accompanied in both cases by the great John Cale on arrangements.
Describing this monument is not simple, it is indeed impossible. We are faced with one of those things that render language powerless, gestures useless, words superfluous.
We are projected into the abyss of the human soul.
This term is too often abused, in reality, it is always reassuring to believe that there is something "finite", something beyond which one cannot go.
"Desertshore" cruelly reveals to you that this is not true, it is your tenuous construction., "Desertshore" is a journey toward negative infinity. Negative because the human condition painfully oscillates between ambition and finiteness, between instinct and reason, wandering in its ancestral error.
"Desertshore" strips you of the smile you wear for good occasions, whispers to you in a glacial tone your uselessness, rendered vulgar by your obtuse pursuit of affirmation, by your short-sighted ideal of a better life.
The point is here: What is the best way to exist?
It is to become aware of one's own existence. And it is here that Nico, despite her austere and icy voice, helps you, extends a charitable hand.
Now it is you, a wonderfully alone man.
Desertshore is one of those milestones that makes its gloominess and spectral theatricality its strong point.
Dark and new wave enthusiasts cannot afford to have Desertshore absent from their discography.
Apathetic and calm, this cry gently cradles itself amidst a swirling and gloomy orchestral ensemble dominated by the harmonium and an imperious organ.
In the immobile and icy panorama of infinity, Desertshore is a mere, superb instrument in which Nico... seeks successfully in the impossible endeavor to untangle that very intricate knot that prevents Man from glimpsing the Truth.
A divine and human voice (all too human).
Desertshore is a perfect title, but The Inner Scar would have been perfect too.
The temple of Pöffgen is a psychic construction; the brazier burns eternally.
The High Priestess is surrounded by nothing, the noise of nothingness is deafening.