What is the fascination that we have with seductive avatars of oblivion? Carolyn Jones as Morticia Addams indoctrinated the adolescent me to the possibilities of the Succubus, and became my tween age, gothic sex symbol; the painting by Pre-Raphaeite John Millet: Ophelia (who floats beautifully in the river) hung on my dorm wall for years. Today, Double Trouble features a couple of ice queens who inspire detached sexual delirium, one contemporary, and one long gone, but still as magnetic as when she walked the earth: the enigmatic Lana Del Rey and Andy Warhol’s muse - Nico (nee Christa Paffgen).

LANA DEL REY

When Lana Del Rey sings “We were born to die,” you know she’s not fooling around. Her voice might be studiously without affect, but you can sense some psychic turmoil underneath. And when she purrs, “you like your girls insane,” she is obviously speaking from experience. Her Greta Garbo air of mystery smolders like an ember that could reignite and singe you at any moment.

Of course, LDR is vastly more multi-dimensional as an artist than simply existing as a blank canvas on which to project our emo fantasies. Her later work, such as her fifth album, the widely acclaimed “Norman Fucking Rockwell” has generous reserves of humor, complexity, and intelligence to ponder and appreciate. And, her recent marriage hints at even further explorations of domestic bliss. So maybe our gothic goddess will be embracing life going forward.

NICO

Speaking of blank canvasses on which we can project our fantasies - Nico, the fashion model, turned Chanteuse, was the ultimate receptive surface. She wasn’t even a singer at first, veering off key as she often did, but her voice with its hypnotic, Germanic drone had its undeniable charms. And, Andy Warhol knew the socko glamor that he was wielding when he saddled the Velvet Underground with her, making her their front person. Who knows if the group, as brilliant as they were, would have garnered any attention initially if it wasn't for Warhol’s 1960s answer to Marlene Dietrich.

Nico struggled with heroin addiction and died tragically young in a senseless bicycle accident, but before she left us she created, (with the help of Velvet’s veteran John Cale as producer) some unforgettable mantras. Frozen Warnings is one of the most compelling - It’s harmonium and droning viola conjure the sense of tip-toeing across a frozen lake and feeling the ice cracking under your feet as you try to reach the glaciated siren.

At risk of seeming sexist, it must be noted that the two prodigies of the bass featured here are female, and perhaps that, in some sense, informs their approach to their artistry. Listening to BC by Tal Wilkenfeld, and Esparanza Spalding’s Vague Suspicions, one cannot help but appreciate both the technical precision, and the soulfulness of their musical expression.

The bass rarely takes the lead in an ensemble - they are usually responsible for holding down the bottom with the drums. However, occasionally, the bassist will step forward into the limelight - Charlie Mingus and Jaco Pastorius come to mind - and, this inversion can lead to some amazing revelations.

ESPERANZA SPALDING

I was inspired to read that Esperanza Spalding had been afflicted with Juvenile idiopathic Arthritis as a child. That this was to be the launching pad for a career as master of one of the most physically demanding instruments imaginable - the upright bass -, puts me in awe. (She also plays the violin, guitar, piano and the oboe). Having the ears and instincts of a prodigy, she was given a full scholarship to the Berkelee School of Music, where she was also granted an honorary doctorate and professorship at age 20.

By the way: let’s not neglect to mention her singing, which is miraculous, lifting easily from conversational mode to a soaring airiness, there are unmistakeable echoes of Billie and Ella. Besides all this, she’s on a mission to make jazz more mainstream - attested by the title of the album Radio Music Society, from which this track derives. If anyone can accomplish this feat, it’s this Grammy Award winner.

TAL WILKENFELD

I first became aware of Tal Wilkenfeld when I saw Jeff Beck play A Day in the Life at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame ceremonies. There was Beck, looking relaxed and dashing - delicately maneuvering his whammy bar… and to his left stood what looked like a street urchin with wild ringlets, following his every nuance, note for note, wielding a massive Fender bass, which was as big as she was. It was alchemy. Later, I watched the Live at Ronnie Scott’s video where you could really see the two magicians extended celebration.

She was around 20 at the time, possessed of a preternatural talent, and sidekick to one of the greatest guitarists who ever lived. Since then, the master has left this realm, and the apprentice has stepped forward to become her own front person - living in Nashville, playing with her band, and her calendar is filled with multiple special appearances and collaborations. And, to top it all, she’s jolly. Her sense of humor is obvious, partnering with comedians, Marc Maron, Spinal Tap, and Jeff Ross on their projects.

DT: STRING THEORY / TELEVISION AND KALEIDOSCOPE

The guitar as we know it has had an illustrious evolution, starting its journey in ancient Mesopotamia, then finding its earliest recognizable incarnation 5 centuries ago in Spain, and continuing to move through various cultures until blossoming into its electric manifestation in the modern era. It was the magic wand to the baby boom generation - suddenly, everybody had to have one to express themselves, along with a garage band with whom to practice their 3 chord fantasies.

Then, there were the transcendental wizards who blazed trails of such sonic originality that the instrument’s sound never got boring. Jimi Hendrix and Jeff Beck, to name a couple. Most of them were firmly rooted in the blues form. Today we feature two bands (Television and Kaleidoscope) whose unique recorded output, though small, blew minds with their sublime, far-reaching soundscapes - reaching deeply into themselves, and searching widely for other cultural inspirations to make original music no 60s/70s rocker teens had even heard before.

KALEIDOSCOPE

David Lindley merged his folk cred with Solomon Feldhouse who brought a middle eastern sensibility to the mix, and they struck world-fusion-rock gold. Lindley started off as a banjo picker, but could play anything with strings, and Feldhouse, a Flamenco artist who had grown up in Turkey, was giggling as an accompanist for belly dancers. Theirs was an unlikely, but unimpeachable partnership.

In this cut from their 1967 debut album, Side Trips, the boys take us on a magical mystery tour through the sanctum of the Egyptian Gardens, where Oud riffs twirl madly through the perfumed air, and scantily clad dancers hypnotize us with their charms.

TELEVISION

Punk music was completely democratic. It was said that you didn’t have to have chops to play; all you needed was passion. Not so with Tom Verlaine and Richard Lloyd’s band Television. Their debut album, 1977’s Marquee Moon immediately splintered that myth. The two virtuoso guitarist’s method of meshing their sound together threw down the gauntlet to any aspiring duelists, and their achievement remains unparalleled, and unchallenged.

It was an intellectual approach heretofore unseen in CBGBs, and the other dives of the lower east side. There was a jazz-like, improvisational element at work, and in the record’s eponymous cut, Marquee Moon, you can hear Verlaine and Lloyd spur each other on to increasingly ecstatic heights.