Nick Cave, a unique musician and artist that our planet has ever seen, has a prolific career path that embodies multiple forms. He initially started off as the lead singer of The Birthday Party, infamously known as the world’s most aggressive band, before transitioning into a revered composer of passionate piano melodies, characterised by his distinct deep voice. A recent period in his life saw him navigate through intense grief and utilise his own personal sufferings to aid other individuals who are experiencing harsh situations, by helping them to connect with others and seek solace.
It’s important to note that Cave has experienced profound trauma in his personal life; his son Arthur fell to his death from a cliff at Ovingdean Gap in Brighton, near the family residence in 2015 when he was just 15 years old. Tragically, seven years later, Cave also lost his 31-year-old son, Jethro Lazenby, in Melbourne.
Death, love, and loss have always been key themes in Cave’s artistic output. Indeed, his most commercially successful track is a murder ballad performed with Kylie Minogue titled, ‘Where the Wild Roses Grow’. However, since 2018, Cave has started providing words of solace to his fans who are seeking comfort via his website, ‘The Red Hand Files’. This platform provides a safe, reflective space amidst the pervasive negativity on the internet in our current digital age. The forum gives an opportunity to his fans to ask him any questions openly.
Recently, a query was posted on the website by a Swedish fan named Karin. Karin requests Cave’s thoughts on loneliness, stating that, despite a prosperous life filled with the joy of children, a loving husband, an enjoyable career, and warm friendships, she often feels lonely. Despite her positive disposition and cheerfulness, she admits to an undercurrent of melancholy that fluctuates in intensity.
In responding to Karin, Cave proffers the depth of his life lessons, highlighting that loneliness isn’t necessarily dependent on our situations or on being loved by others. Cave cites the ideas of Iain McGilchrist, an eminent philosopher, neuroscientist and psychiatrist who posits that achieving a purposeful life hinges on three aspects. Firstly, being part of a larger community, inclusive of family, friends, and broader society. Secondly, comprehension of Mother Nature and her integral link to the cosmos, which McGilchrist opines has been significantly eroded. Lastly, the formation of a bond with the metaphysical or divine, which could be found in diverse forms such as art, music, poetry, and religious beliefs, where the ineffable enigma of an omnipotent force that keeps the universe in sync, is recognised.
In his characteristic style, Cave, an effortlessly dashing well-dressed 6ft 2in man who appears far younger than his nearing 67 years, carried our dialogue forward in a hotel situated off King’s Road in Chelsea, London. During our discourse, Cave eagerly recounted his adolescent thrill of uncovering the music of greats like Van Morrison and Bob Dylan. Adding an intriguing fact, Cave mentioned a recent study that suggested the brain’s impact by music is most profound during the ages of 16 to 23.
Despite his reverence for Dylan, “Van the Man”, Leonard Cohen, and other luminaries from his roll call of heroes, none of them embarked on anything comparable to The Red Hand Files. Indeed, it’s challenging to envision Dylan or Morrison interacting with the world with such unreserved honesty.
Cave, in 2022, also unveiled ‘Faith, Hope and Carnage,’ a book constituted as a conversation with journalist and writer Seán O’Hagan, centred around life’s poignant themes—death, grief, faith, and creativity. This endeavour, too, defied the established norms and assumptions of how present-day musicians or public personalities should conduct themselves. Cave’s concluding sentiment, although distilled from a much lengthier response, was a wish for his words to be helpful.
Tracing back to his formative years, there lies some explanation behind Nick Cave’s artistry and dedication toward his craft. Tragedy struck Cave at a young age when he lost his father, Colin, in a car accident. A rebellious teenager at the time, he channelled the enormity of his grief into his artistic pursuits, gaining a newfound seriousness towards music, art, and writing. During Dublin’s Gaiety Theatre in 1999 and Vienna Poetry Festival in the preceding year, Cave boldly shared in his essay ‘The Secret Life of the Love Song’ that he plugged the gaping void left by his father’s untimely demise with writing, a coping mechanism Colin Cave had taught him as though mentally preparing him for his own eventual departure.
With his narrative ‘Faith, Hope and Carnage’, Cave enters the distressing terrain of bereavement, a topic he terms as the “annihilation” of sorrow. He clarifies that he did not initially intend to discuss the painful loss of his son, Arthur, with journalist Seán O’Hagan. The outcome of their conversation, nonetheless, resulted in astonishing beauty, bringing Cave a sense of solace found nowhere else, not even in listening to his own albums.
Anticipation mounts as Cave readies himself for the launch of his 18th studio album with The Bad Seeds, titled ‘Wild God’ . This marks his inaugural album with the band following his poignant, ethereal sensation of 2019, ‘Ghosteen’. Discussing ‘Wild God’, Cave delves deeper than the typical musician interview, highlighting the formidable return of The Bad Seeds after the comparative simplicity of his collective work with Warren Ellis. The album also features guest artist Colin Greenwood from Radiohead on bass.
In a summation of the band’s return, Cave explains, “They were sidelined for a couple of albums, but they resurfaced with a fierce, gleeful, and defiant vitality.” Cave’s studio time with the band has always been filled with overwhelming joy.
Recently, Cave has significantly reduced the number of interviews he does, especially following his son Arthur’s death and while promoting his musical works – Skeleton Tree (2016), Ghosteen (2019) and Carnage (2021) with Warren Ellis. He innovatively transformed the traditional interview practice through The Red Hand Files, in conjunction with a public dialogue series titled So, What Do You Want to Know?, one of which was held at the Abbey Theatre in 2018. Cave shared his personal experiences of comfort as found in reading Faith, Hope and Carnage, following the tragic loss of my brother Séamus in a mountain accident two years ago.
Cave signifies, as a distressing honour, his listeners’ personal experiences and emotional struggles shared during his interviews. While he admits to having no solution for such grief, he expresses a deep sense of connection to human experiences, especially the feeling of brokenness.
Cave’s personal journey through grief was not confined to the loss of Arthur but also includes his mother, Dawn, whom he could not bid final goodbye in person due to the rise of the Covid pandemic. Thus, his actor son Earl (Arthur’s twin), decided to host a virtual funeral that was uniquely termed as a ‘Zoomeral’.
Another prominent thread of Cave’s personal life gets revealed through the song rel=”nofollow”>O Wow O Wow (How Beautiful She Is) from the album Wild God. This song is his heartfelt tribute to the late musician Anita Lane, who was not only his girlfriend but also the co-founder of The Bad Seeds forty years back.
Cave fondly recalls Anita being an unstoppable force with an infectious laughter, who illuminated the male-dominated Melbourne punk music scene with her brightly radiant spirit, despite its inherent darkness resulting from drug addiction. Her lively innocence and creative profusion, captured in the song, evokes her vivid memory. Cave reminisces a particular incident where Anita’s naivety got highlighted during a telephone call with a bank official.
Cave recounts his grappling with grief and loss, and his perspectives on the process. “I’ve delved into a considerable amount of literature on mourning, particularly during the early times, but it never truly resonated with me,” he admits. Cave discards the notion of the seven stages of grief that, in his belief, had long since been discredited. He also questions the concept of acceptance. According to Cave, people often try to return to their former selves, which he feels is futile. He believes that enduring life’s significant events fundamentally alters a person’s essence. This is evident, he says, in situations like a divorce, wherein one does not simply revert to their pre-marriage state but becomes greatly impacted and permanently changed.
Cave also recounts his prominently online-participated performance at Shane MacGowan’s funeral in Nenagh in early December, where he paid his tribute through the song ‘A Rainy Night in Soho’. He recalls feeling extremely unwell the night prior to the service, suspecting it was either Covid or flu. Despite his condition and the doubts settling on him about his attendance, he determinedly made his way to the airport and managed to board a flight.
His performance, which saw over 1.4 million online views, was on-the-spot, without any rehearsal. Arriving midway through the ceremony, he was abruptly ushered onto the stage. Confronted by a band on stage asking about the key of the song he was about to perform, he instructed them not to accompany, though they finessed the song in the end. It turned into a deeply emotional experience for Cave, thanks to the band’s skilled and mesmerising performance.
In the 1980s, in London, Nick Cave and Shane MacGowan first crossed paths. Recalling an initial encounter at an NME journalism event that didn’t go smoothly, Cave mentions his meeting with MacGowan and the legendary Mark E Smith, lead singer of The Fall who passed away in 2018. The session was moderated by a yet-to-become ally and co-author of Cave’s, Seán O’Hagan. Cave chuckles as he recounts the utter chaos of the interview, featuring an exaggeratedly high MacGowan and an overly antagonistic Smith, powered by amphetamines. Cave, freshly out of rehab, describes the situation as horrid, yet it facilitated his meeting with two individuals he regarded as heroes. He revered them as two of the finest songwriters of their time and subsequently forged friendships with both.
Cave depicts MacGowan as an extraordinary and cherished acquaintance. Cave states that whilst collaborations happened sporadically between them, at their core, they were friends. Their pastimes included socialising, substance usage and attending gatherings, indicative of a genuine connection, which Cave admits lacking in his usual professional associations. Cave rarely mixed friendship with business, and such was the case with MacGowan.
As MacGowan’s health deteriorated, their companionship waned, and he found solace in conversations with Victoria. Cave acknowledges the melancholy of witnessing MacGowan recede from life. He recollects how Sinéad O’Connor classified MacGowan as an angel, a sentiment Cave echoes, affirming that if angels exist, MacGowan undoubtedly was one.
Cave’s spouse, ex-model and fashion designer, Susie Cave, converted her sorrow over the loss of Arthur into a creative force for her esteemed label, The Vampire’s Wife, which stopped operations earlier this year.
Nick concedes that Susie’s grief mirrored his. He recalls how she channelled her pain into designing dresses, which to him and many others resembled tangible manifestations of her anguish. He credits the ghostly allure of the dresses to her intense mourning. Nick believes that their popularity was a testament to the empathic response of the public towards her palpable bereavement.
In a world as relentless as the fashion industry, Susie was constantly on the go. One collection ended, and she immediately started on the next. After a decade in the game, the company folded. She might grieve for the fallen business and those who lost their jobs, but now she’s truly free. The liberation even adds a sparkle to her presence.
My significant other, Ali, was a devotee of her brand, to which laudable support Cave responded, “We’re heartened by Ali’s favour, but Susie is content as it is”. She always wanted to design clothes accessible to everyone, but failed to balance affordability with her desired quality. Susie held her standards high and refused to let her garments be made cheaply. One collaboration with H&M saw their creation mass-produced to sell at a lower price. Strangely enough, if Susie spotted a young lady in Brighton flaunting her metallic-laced cape, it would secretly make her day.
In their book, ‘Faith, Love, and Carnage’, Cave reveals their shared grief bonded them even more. “Our unity was our survival gear”, he admits, “Grief isn’t as daunting now.”
As our exhaustive discussion comes to an end, since Cave is due at the BBC, he shares parting words. The Red Hand Files, he states, have curiously found their way to the heart of everything, even shaping his music records. This has unexpectedly turned into a lifestyle. He concedes that his life holds more profound meaning following the loss of his children. His perspective has altered; life’s nuisances bother him less, and he is deeply touched by the world’s inherent beauty.
Watch out for Wild God, hitting the shelves of Mute Records on August 30th. Nick Cave and The Bad Seeds will also be in 3Arena, Dublin, performing on November 12th and 13th.