Post Script by James Young


I don’t know why Alan said that he helped with my book, though he did like to see himself as a literary figure. Usually when Songs They Never Play On The Radio came up as a topic he was immediately dismissive of it, recommending that people turn their attention instead to Dostoyevsky or Proust.

Alan and I were extremely close, which is why at times there was this adversarial stance, like brothers fighting. We knew each other from the age of twelve and were in the same class at school. I delivered one of the eulogies at his funeral. But sometimes he could be very controlling and when I told him I was thinking of writing a memoir of our time with Nico he said, “I’M the writer … you’re the piano player.” Everyone had very fixed roles in his world and he didn’t like anyone to change.

In interviews Alan often just said whatever came into his head, sometimes to be mischievous, sometimes to surprise himself. Usually, as I said, if the subject of Songs They Never Play On The Radio came up he would brush it imperiously aside. But latterly things did get very mixed up in his mind … dates, places, people. He was on massive medication and had been addicted to Valium for fifty years. Nonetheless, I do take my work seriously and someone else claiming they had a part in its creation when they absolutely did not has to be addressed … even if it does come from a beloved friend.




Nico & The last Testament of Doctor Demetrius

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(photograph by Danny Fields. Garden of the Portobello Hotel, London)

Monday’s full blue blood moon weaved its strange magic. Few rock tomes stand the test of time but James Young’s ‘Songs They Never Play on the Radio’ will always have a permanent place on the bookshelf. Some thirty years have slipped by since Young played keyboards for Nico, then penned a slender yet mischievous memoir of his adventures touring with the Moon Goddess. Nico always managed to escape the modish, even if she started her career as a model, before Andy Warhol inducted her into the Velvet Underground as their resident chanteuse. Her solitary aura and aloof stance separated her from her more frenetic band-mates. Reincarnating as a solo artist, she morphed into The Moon Goddess, composing haunting dreamscapes on a harmonium.  Art can only survive time’s relentless harvest if it touches upon eternal themes. Nico’s music, a silvered interior wilderness carved out of night and thronged by shadows can never date because it is unclassifiable whilst being Gothic in the manner of Pugin. Some years ago, I interviewed Alan Wise, who pivotal to Manchester’s post punk music resurgence, left his unique imprint on both the Hacienda and Factory Records. However, it was as a Nico aficionado that I sought Wise out. Featured as ‘Doctor Demetrius’ in Young’s tome, Wise managed Nico in the last years of her life, though he was clearly in the thrall of the Moon Goddess as this rare and insightful interview attests. Like Nico, Alan Wise has since gone over the frozen borderline, though I have no doubt he is still in the stately procession of the Moon Goddess.

 Alan Wise Interview

(with some words from Ari, at conclusion)

N: When you first met Nico what where you doing?

A: It was 1981, at the time I was running nights at a club called Rafters and she was booked to play there by Mike Hince who worked for Rough Trade.  He introduced a lot of interesting stuff to us. I didn’t really know who she was and when he made the booking I said, ‘Who is he?’  What happened was I saw her arriving with her boyfriend, Robert, from the Scars, a young Scottish guy. She was carrying her harmonium and I was just going out to get something to eat at the Italian restaurant next door. I liked the look of them, they looked interesting, bohemian. I said ‘Would you like something to eat? Are you hungry?’ Of course they were. We went next door for something to eat.

N: Where her circumstances quite precarious?

A: Yes, very, they were travelling on buses, doing gigs for money, there wasn’t that great a fee, she had a tour of the North to do so I went with her, to look after her. Both she and Robert were hopeless; they had no sense of organisation or the money side of it, and no access to legal supplies methadone.

N: There must have been something about Nico that made you want to be act like this … be valiant?

A: I liked her instantly I thought she was a very interesting character. I only got involved in entertainment to meet interesting characters. She was strong but vulnerable, bright, charming. I found her somewhere to live, she’d been touring but she liked Manchester because of the Victorian architecture. Initially she was staying in a Polish hotel in Whalley Range (what do you get for your trouble and pain?) the Polex owned by a war hero, it was very cheap, she didn’t have much money. After that, she came to live in Didsbury with me, only briefly, then she moved to the other side of Manchester, a beautiful area called Prestwich Park (house was called Moresby) it was Victorian.

I remember when Gregory Corso was staying with her, it was funny, they had this banter, they’d watch old films, ‘King Solomon’s Mines’ and Nico would say ‘I wish I had a mine’ and Gregory would respond ‘Sorry Nico, I can’t help you, I haven’t got a mind’ ‘I didn’t say ‘Mind’ Gregory, I said ‘Mine’…’Gregory was with us for about a year, he was sending letters home  to his wife telling her that he ‘Staying with a lovely couple in the Lake District. I said to him ‘You’re hardly staying with a lovely couple in the Lake District’ He said ‘Alan a gentleman doesn’t read someone else’s mail.

N: Did she talk much about the past?

A: All the time, Nico’s life was the past. Berlin, the war, what she’d done, modelling, why she didn’t like it. I spoke to Andrew Loog Oldham about her; he said that when he’d met, she’d been very ‘Harvey Nichol’s’ meaning nice clothes, bright attire, fairly upbeat, what you might consider a ‘Lightweight’ but her personality changed because of her opiate use. She got into that culture.  Had she not got into opiates she may simply have been a light hearted German Folk Singer, as ‘I’m Not Sayin’ suggests. The heavy Marlene Dietrich stance came later. Oldham said her character wasn’t like that at all. She could be moody, but I’d have said it was because of all the drugs she took over the years. Her mood altered every few seconds but she could talk and be charming and witty. She said what she did and got on with it. She was one of the last Left Bank Bohemians. She read good books, although she hadn’t had a formal education in the sense that she hadn’t gone to university, which she regretted and said was because of the war, she always read good books. Dostoyevsky, Solzyenitschen? (Gulag Archipelago) quality English writers. She liked being solitary but she’d also socialise but she wasn’t a snob, she’d hang out at the local pool hall, strike up a conversation with a bum.

N: What happened to her harmonium?

A: Ari, (Nico’s son) took it back to Paris but his girlfriend sold it; it was here for a long time.

N: Ari is staying with you? What kind of a relationship is it?

A: Depressing (laughs) It’s not a permanent thing, he was poorly in France so I’m looking after him. Ari’s memoirs were very well received in France. He’s decided he’d like to get it released in England if he can get a translator. He’d love a deal for it in the UK. He can’t remember what he signed for with the French publisher, in that respect he’s just like his mother. We’re not friends, were family, I’ve known him for so long. His mum was family to me, and so is Ari, it’s a family affair. I remember some Dutch promoters came to see us, they said ‘Not only do you work together, you live in the same house.’ Our working relationship wasn’t business, it was family, we didn’t have a proper contract, we fought and made up like family.

N: Is James Young’s book a true reflection?

A: No but it’s comical, I helped him write it. We decided to write a funny book that was a bit like our experiences, but the publisher didn’t want it done like that and the only way they were going to pay an advance was to finish the book as a biography but it’s not an accurate account. Life was much more comical than that and she did very nice venues, you can’t tell me that the Palais De Beaux Arts and some of the Italian theatres we played were dumps. James portrayed the down side of pop life because it was attractive, of course it was representative of certain aspects, but it ignored an awful lot of other things.

N: Any truth to the story that Nico wanted to be a florist?

A: That was towards the end, she wanted to work in a flower shop until she found out the wages. She went to a florists to ask how much they paid. They told her £150, she said ‘I can’t live on a £150 a day’. They said no, it’s £150 a week. It was a local place, she’d worked in a florists before and she liked flowers.

N: Marriage proposal from a Hassidic admirer?

A: That was really comical, he was about a 110. He owned the house she lived in. What she used to do was the light the fires for him on a Saturday. Jewish law states that one shouldn’t do any work on a Saturday, so they invite non-Jewish people in. Incredible as it sounds she volunteered to light the fires for him and put the oven on. She’d done this as a child. But he asked her to marry him. She seemed to think it was serious.

One time she was in hospital, she had septicaemia, it was 1983. The hospital was in Crumsall. She would dominate the ward by turning the television over when ‘Coronation Street’ came on. She put on intellectual, educational programmes that no one else wanted to see. When I went to see her, she gave me the run down on the ward ‘That women there, she is such a moron she watches rubbish on TV’ ‘This one reads a terrible paper’ ‘That one over there, her husband is always very noisy’ but then she pointed to the women in the bed next to her ‘And this one sleeps with a tiger’ ‘You what’? ‘Or maybe I’m imagining it’ She didn’t know but the fact that this woman was sleeping with a tiger seemed perfectly acceptable to Nico. I remember when she used to do TV interviews, she’d be asked a question, like ‘Would you like a car?’ then they’d go on to another subject, say for instance ‘Rome’ but she’d still be responding to the car question, while they were on to ‘Rome being an ancient civilisation’ She’d say ‘About 2000 years’ and of course it would sound like she’d asked for a 2000 year old car. The conversation she was carrying on in her head was 15 minutes behind everyone else. Looking back, I think she has more talent now that I did then. She wasn’t a rock singer, her strongest work was her own, ‘The End’ ‘Marble Index’’ she was really an avant -garde torch singer in the Dietrich tradition. Her songs were sort of folky, fairy tale, following a Germanic tradition. At the time she wasn’t liked in Germany but now she’s considered a star there. She didn’t like playing Germany, she found it boring and the promoters always wanted to stick to time, they were always so dramatic. She wasn’t rock n’ roll. She did one programme and she said, ‘I don’t know anything about rock and roll; I don’t know why you are asking me.” She was more interested in classical music. She liked modern classical composers, she like Max Bruch, but the greatest one for her was Mahler, the greatest piece of music for her was Mahler’s 5th symphony. She liked the Velvet Underground, Lou Reed and The Doors. One time we were travelling across the Alps and she took over from me, then after a little while she said, ‘I can see Jim’s face in the road’ The rest of us said’ what about the fucking road Nico, we’re getting out’ the whole group got out and waited by the side of the mountain rather than travel with her. She carried on with Barbara, her faithful companion, driving.

N: The way you describe Nico it’s almost as if she lived in a hallucinogenic fairy story

A: She lived like her act, there was no separate persona to the person you saw on stage to the one at home except she wanted to change her name back to Christa Paffgen, she said I’m not Nico, I’m Christa, Nico was a photographer who gave me that name. She was getting a bit tired of the Nico persona.

N: Do you think Manchester afforded her some shelter from that?

A: We lived in Manchester and in London, 29 Effra Road; it was me, Nico and John Cooper Clarke.

N: Did you set up the Martin Hannet sessions?

A: Yes, he was a friend of mine, it was called ‘Procession’ it was a long time since then, we only made one studio album and one live album, which sold a lot. One was ‘Camera Obscura’ which came out on Beggars Banquet, produced by John Cale with the Faction which was James Young, Graham Dowdall & Mike Hinc.

N: You helped her get a script that must have made things easier for her?

A: Yes, she had a doctor who prescribed her methadone

N: The letter?

A: That was a weird occurrence, we went back to her hold out with a BBC camera crew, this was a few months ago, we returned to the house on Prestwich Park South,’ Moresby’ it’s called. It’s a big Victorian house; Nico lived in the upper part of the house, the new owner restored into one about 20 years ago. When she saw the BBC crew, the owner came down. She said, ‘You must have come about Nico; she left her room in a mess’. I said to her ‘Do you mean to tell me you haven’t tidied it up in all that time?’ ‘No, I left it the same but I found a letter’. Unfortunately, the BBC crew nicked it but it was written by Nico to Alain Delon asking him to look after Ari. It was never sent.

N: She must have had some sort of premonition. Ibiza was just meant to be a holiday?

A: Yes, she did her last show in Berlin, they always say that where you do your last show is your hometown and then she went to Ibiza. Ari was with her. She went cycling on a hot day and had a stroke; it wasn’t the fall off the bicycle that killed her. It was the stroke. The last person to see her, by a strange twist, was Peter Hook from New Order. New Order where on their way to the airport and they saw her at a café and waved and she waved back. Very strange.

N: How best would you guide me to write about Nico?

A: You have to go back to her origins, Germany, the war, Berlin.

N: Dick Witts claimed she had a tortured relationship with her mother.

A: She loved her mother very much, sometimes she was unwell but she loved her. Dick Witts claimed to have known Nico well, but he only met her once, she went to his flat but she was uncertain as to whether she wanted him as a biographer.

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Ari: ‘I have only good memories of my mother. She was a very funny character she had a great sense of humour. She loved me very much, we had a special relationship. It was unique, almost like man and wife, although nothing incestuous, although people sometimes thought we were married. We had an artistic relationship, she was a great lady and I miss her very much. I was with her when she died. To me she was just my mother, a great woman who always tried to protect me.’

‘To a Skylark’ – ‘We look before and after. And Pine For What Is Not’ – Shelley

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When I was 6 years old, I modelled clothes for a local boutique but that doesn’t make me a ‘former model’.

When I was 11 years old, I ran a race at the school sports day but that doesn’t make me a ‘former athlete’.

When I was 20 years old, I contributed squeaky vocals to a 45 by a band called The Mogodons. It was a one-off and doesn’t make me a ‘former singer’.

It is quite sinister that someone appears intent on making the case of a career that never was from a sole single and to this end has posted personal information on my wiki page about a marriage that was dissolved over 30 years ago. Sure, if they’d been able to put up information about gigs, albums, etc., but they are unable to do so and instead grub around in the dust of old relationships as none-proof. This disclosure also affects my daughter who I raised alone. A career tends to be a long term investment in one particular area, as in my writing, which is fairly substantial. It is really peculiar unless this person hopes to gain in some way from the single’s history? I’m not ashamed of the past but making that record was a distraction on a rainy afternoon. It shouldn’t be allowed to amount to anything more, especially not by an anonymous stranger.

Further adventures from The Greenwood: Including an interview and guest appearances from Johnny Thunders, Marc Bolan and Prince !!!

Thank you to Mark Andresen from ‘The Pan Review’, which is a treasure trove of supernatural & esoteric subjects that covers both literature and music. Mark asked some great questions, marrying the past with the present to enquire ‘of all the rock stars you’ve met and written about, who strikes you as the closest to the Victorian decadent’ ? It was also interesting to explore how Glastonbury, once a humble free-festival in one of the most mystical locations in the UK is now a corporate juggernaut.

I’d also like to thank my friend, Caroline Coon for her appraisal of ‘The Greenwood Faun’ which is now up on her website: The Greenwood Faun by Nina Antonia at Caroline looks at the book from both a creative and academic standpoint to deliver an incredibly perceptive overview. It’s the first time I’ve been mentioned in the same breath as Joe Orton, whose work I’ve always revered since seeing ‘Entertaining Mr Sloane’ in the playwright’s home town of Leicester as a teenager. Like Pan, Mr Sloane cannot help but create chaos and on that note…………


2017: From The Greenwood to Wormwood

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‘At the Pillars of Hercules’ Photo by Severina

‘Hope is a dream with its eyes open’ and so begins ‘The Greenwood Faun’, which was written in 6 months but took nearly three years to percolate, before it was published via, in December. It was a pleasure to work with a publisher of such high aesthetic standards. I’m also indebted to David Tibet and Mark Valentine who have been so generous in their support. The lure of Pan, the irresistible lilt, has the same pull as rock ‘n’ roll. The leap into the ‘Greenwood’ was not quite as great as one might initially imagine. Rock ‘n’ Roll before it became an industry promised freedom & as a girl growing up in a stifling household, that was the promise. Writers shouldn’t be confined, besides I was dreamy enough to visualise Johnny Thunders as a kindred spirit to Rimbaud & to see Baudelaire’s poetic cynicism in Peter Perrett. ‘Insiders’ have never appealed, only those outside, dissident voices and themes. As we devastate nature, Pan remains in exile.

Photo by Sabina Stent

Sadly, this year saw Sheffield Council continue to decimate thousands of healthy, mature trees. Not only are they pulling out the lungs of the city & destroying the habitat of urban wildlife but they are eradicating centuries old and much loved landmarks in an unparalleled campaign of eco-vandalism. Thankfully Sheffield’s dedicated tree-guardians have ensured daily reportage and peaceful protest whilst Bianca Jagger, Vernon Kay and Ken Loach are also adding their support. My contribution, ‘Sheff,’ was illustrated by Sheffield tree activist and artist, ‘The Sad Squirrel.’  Pan is there in spirit or in the words of a branch of the same tree, Puck: ‘I came into England with Oak, Ash and Thorn, and when Oak, Ash and Thorn are gone I shall go too.’

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I was delighted to have a two part essay featured in Wormwood, ‘Incurable –Lionel Johnson – The Disconsolate Decadent’. Mass culture ensures only a handful of names & products are recycled like a banquet heaving with plates but only two choices on which to dine. Wormwood  ( however, keeps the torches burning for obscure but deserving authors of the decadent, esoteric & outré, making it a perfect home for the ‘lost’ Victorian poet, Lionel Johnson, who slipped into the literary wilderness, despite having introduced Lord Alfred Douglas to Oscar Wilde and being an influence upon W.B Yeats. It was because of Lionel that I was fortunate enough to make the cover story of ‘Fortean Times’ earlier in the year, when relaying the story of the poet’s haunted chambers, one of London’s less well known avian mysteries, that owes more than a little to Poe.

No year could be complete without a project dedicated to Johnny Thunders. I was more than happy to write liner notes & interview Michael Monroe, for a remastered edition of ‘Que Sera, Sera’, due for release via Jungle Records, ( early in the New Year. Featuring two previously ‘lost’ tracks that are prime JT, it’s a gem.


The Greenwood Faun review by Louder Than War

Thank you so much to Gus Ironside for his lovely ‘Louder Than War’ review of ‘The Greenwood Faun.’

Click the link below to read it:

Nina Antonia at Putney Library Dec. 13.


Live at Putney Library: Free event: Reading, Q&A & Mulled Wine. December 13th, 6.45…….

Be there or be square……..

The Greenwood Faun review in Faunus

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Delighted that the first review of ‘The Greenwood Faun’ is featured in the Autumn edition of ‘Faunus’, the journal of the friends of Arthur Machen.

Author Timothy J Jarvis has warmly embraced ‘The Faun’, noting the guest appearances of Rimbaud, Wilde & Austin Osman Spare, without giving too much of the plot away.

‘The Greenwood Faun’ is inspired by Arthur Machen’s ‘The Hill of Dreams’, a decadent masterpiece about an aspiring writer who gets lost on Laudanum in a labyrinthine London. Prepare to be seduced……I hope, or at least swoon….

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Pre-Order The Greenwood Faun

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Ladies & Gentlemen,

After much anticipation, we are pleased to announce that The Greenwood Faun by Nina Antonia is available to pre-order.

“A strange and curious novel, steeped in the lingering incense and paganism of the fin-de-siècle.” – Phil Baker

“Nina Antonia’s The Greenwood Faun is a haunted, haunting work. Summoning up Lucian Taylor, the hallucinated hero of Arthur Machen’s The Hill of Dreams, Nina channels the curious, captivating story of what happened to Lucian’s literary masterpiece after his death, and how it both saves and destroys those who come across it after it is posthumously published. Shot through with decadence, poetry, opium, and incense, with the ghost of Lionel Johnson as psychopomp and the Great God Pan heavy in the fields, this is a beautifully written proem: witty, crepuscular, enchanting, surprising.” – David Tibet

“Decadent in style and, more importantly, in spirit, The Greenwood Faun captures the lush sentiment as well as the mordant irony of the fin-de-siècle, and contrives a delicate balance between them. I loved it.” – Brian Stableford

Scheduled for official publication on December the 5th, 2017 – Faunalia of the ancient Roman calendar – the book has 192 pages; is a lithographically printed, sewn hardback with colour endpapers. It is limited to just 420 copies. ISBN 978-0-993527876.

For more information and to order please click HERE.