Last week I met up with Nikolai at the Skillet of Fish, a small bar in Greenwich Village. When he walks in he is dressed in blue jeans, leather boots, and a dark blazer. His straight dark hair hangs down to about chin length and he has a European look about him. After some searching we find a seat on the purple velvet couch in the corner. Apparently no one is allowed to sit next to the dartboard because there’s a league going on (extra careful about deflections). He mentions how he won a bass guitar off of a friend in Japan after that friend taught him how to play darts for the first time.

When I bring up the new album and the striking differences between Nickel Eye and The Strokes, he replies in a voice that is low but passionate: “It’s not like I was just waiting to make this album the whole time I was in The Strokes. It’s just about personal things that don’t have a place there. If I didn’t do it, then I wouldn’t be happy.” And what about the inspiration for Time of the Assassins? “It goes back to that turning point in mine, and many people’s lives, where they have to decide to finish college or enter the work force.” And what did he choose? To drop out and go cross country.

On the road Nikolai started writing a lot about personal disillusionment and his experiences abroad. Upon reaching Colorado, he contracted “Rocky Mountain Fever,” a rare sickness which induces vivid hallucinations. “It was really intense,” he says without needing to go into specifics. It was after this trip that Nikolai really began to become serious about playing the bass. Surprisingly, he didn’t even start playing until he was 19 years old. “Buddy Booker was my bass teacher and mentor,” he says making sure I write that down.

As the night progresses, we cover a variety of topics. I ask about The Strokes and he explains how some of the guys are out in Los Angeles for the time being and that the time apart has been good for longevity and health. We get back into the album and the creation of the song “Dying Star,” one of the more rock oriented tracks on the album. He gives that classic simplistic, yet profound musician response: “Well I was playing something and my friend was like, “Hey man that sounds good.’”

We have a few more drinks and he muses on the comedian Bill Hicks, the “I’ve never had a bad time on drugs” guy, and then mentions it’s Hicks’ birthday. We veer to the marketing of Che Guevara t-shirts and the cheapness of advertising especially in relation to something as sacred as revolution. Lyrics come up along with the necessity of using new, yet familiar words. “I don’t like to use words I have to stop and look up in a dictionary,” he says matter of factly. Lastly, I inquire about the last track on the album, a Leonard Cohen cover: “Whose angelic voice is that harmonizing with you on “Hey, That’s No Way to Say Goodbye?” “My wife,” he replies with a smile. “It’s a nice benefit.”

-Seth Fraser

http://www.myspace.com/officialnickeleye