Twenty years since her lonely death in Ibiza, Nico remains a shadowy presence in the popular imagination. The beautiful German chanteuse from New York, who sang, briefly, with the Velvet Underground in the 1960s, produced a body of work notable for its mood of brooding, Teutonic gloom. Few musicians got closer to her than John Cale (pictured below), her bandmate in the Velvet Underground, who subsequently produced and/or played on all her solo albums of significance. But even he felt rebuffed by her inscrutable personality and the show that he organised in her honour on Saturday reflected her aloof sense of emotional detachment - perhaps a little too well.

Featuring a succession of artists who have been captivated by the music of Nico, the event unfolded without a word of introduction or explanation from start to finish. Some of the participants were instantly familiar. James Dean Bradfield, of Manic Street Preachers, made a workmanlike job of Janitor of Lunacy and the American singer Mark Lanegan applied his dark baritone to the undulating melodic contours of Roses in the Snow. But other participants were hardly household names or faces. “Who are you?” yelled a voice from the audience when Mark Linkous, of Sparklehorse, arrived for the second time. Linkous was, naturally, far too cool to let on.

Posed with the same question, Fyfe Dangerfield, of Guillemots, claimed that he didn't know. It must be tough with a name like that, but even so, such a disdainful approach to the presentation of the event did none of the performers any favours.

Nor were there any sacrifices to popular sentiment in the selection of songs. None of the numbers which Nico performed with the Velvet Underground was included, nor those from her most successful solo album Chelsea Girls. Instead, the programme focused on the most demanding area of her repertoire, in particular the albums The Marble Index and Desertshore. Peter Murphy, of Bauhaus, gave a robust theatrical account of the German- language songs Mutterlein and Abschied while the Manchester-based singer Liz Green gave a plaintive reading of Ari's Song, and Cale brought his considerable authority to bear on the gothic rumblings of Frozen Warnings and Facing the Wind. But it was Lisa Gerrard (formerly of Dead Can Dance) who brought some much-needed warmth to the show with her regal yet emotionally charged renditions of Falconer and No One Is There. The ensemble joined together for a genial encore of All that Is My Own, but by then it was a bit late to start acting all matey and relaxed.

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