Andrew Horn’s film looks at Klaus Sperber’s mutation into the otherworldly character of Nomi – an act of not so much gender bending as bending the entire concept of a human being. He became a piece of performance art which obliterated the character of Sperber and created a futuristic, opera singing Japanese robot who ‘came from outer space to save the human race’. He also produced some of the most fascinating and moving music to emerge from the whole New York /no wave scene. Switching styles frequently between bizarre synthesized covers of pop standards (an unhinged take on Chubby Checker’s The Twist has to be heard to be believed), and straight interpretations of opera standards, he rose above his peers simply by virtue of that incredible voice.

The first half of the film consists mainly of some excellent (though fairly poor quality) live footage and interviews with friends, collaborators and contemporaries from the early 80’s cabaret scene. Nomi and musical collaborator Kristian Hoffmann easily shine amongst a bunch of vaguely engaging misfits who’s talents are largely outdone by their self belief (post punk and anything seemed possible).

Sadly, what limited footage there is of Nomi himself being interviewed doesn’t give much insight into his character, other than the belief that he was operating completely outside the normal rules of pop and opera. With Sperber no longer in existence, there only occasional hints at Nomi’s isolation and the man himself doesn’t give much away.

The latter part of the film is inevitably more sombre as Nomi was one of the early victims of the HIV virus. Abandoned by friends terrified of catching ‘the gay cancer’, he died of AIDS related illness soon after. There are touching eulogies (especially from his aunt) and typical rockumentry recollections of betrayals and deception - Hoffmann is particularly bitter about his treatment in the wake of Nomi’s success. It’s disappointing, though, that there is no input from Bowie, who gave him his first big break as a backing singer. And Horn’s decision to illustrate Trude Sperber’s recollections of her nephew with camp cut out figures kind of cheapens her reminiscences and should have been left out at the editing stage.

As for DVD extras, the inclusion of Scissor Sisters/Manny Parrish remixes in an attempt to reach a wider audience is fair enough, but in truth Nomi’s art has more in common with the post punk Cabaret of The Dresden Dolls or The Associates than the ‘laugh at us’ kitsch of the Sisters. The DVD does, though, include some magnificent footage of the Cold song performed with a full orchestra. However, why this wasn’t fully included in the original film - given the poor quality of much of the live footage - is a mystery.

He died just as, predictably, he was on the verge of real success in Japan (why do the Japanese take to this kind of stuff so much more readily than us?). And there really isn’t a happy ending to be found here. There is, though, plenty to celebrate in the brief but bright period covered and Horn’s film serves as an uplifting look at the kind of fuck-you iconoclasm which is sadly missing in mainstream pop.

And the punks loved him – which is good enough for me.

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Stuart Blackwood is 30 (odd), was born in Newarthill and lives in Glasgow. He supports Motherwell FC, has an MA in Economics and Philosophy and likes William Bell (the singer), Bukowski & Fante, Eric Arthur Blair, Negativeland, Eric Hobsbawm, politics, philosophy and ambiguity. He dislikes Alan Bloom and Francis Fukuyama, U2, categorization and Violence.

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© 2005 Laura Hird All rights reserved.

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