Tom Dunne's Music & Me: Nick Cave is the Sinatra of Darkness
Mark Mordue's account of Nick Cave's early years is a must-read for fans of the singer.
Nick Cave's mum, Dawn, once used to field frequent calls from her son’s fans as to the “exact time, for astrological reasons” of his birth. They suspected his arrival on Earth corresponded with strange signs in the sky, portents, omens, meteorites. She denied there was anything unusual.
I don’t believe her. Looking down on his works, non-mortal fingerprints are visible everywhere. I believe Cave was passed to his parents by a couple in white robes with the words: “Look after this child, Earthlings.” I believe the evidence is overwhelming.
Cave and my generation both heard the ‘shot that was heard around the world’ (punk rock... for God’s sake, keep up!) at pretty much the same time. Yet, by the time most of my lads had advertised to meet ‘like-minded people’, Cave had lapped us twice. Was he tipped off? Was he expecting the shot? I think so.
To date, and he hasn’t stopped yet, the Sinatra of Darkness has, deep breath now: recorded 17 albums with the Bad Seeds, worked on several side projects like Grinderman that are better than most people’s main projects, created numerous film soundtracks and written screenplays, novels and books of poetry.
This level of output is not human. That his childhood hero, Johnny Cash, covered one of his songs and the fact that Kylie, the most desirable woman on Earth to men of a certain generation (mine) has duetted with him is further proof of powerful, otherworldly forces at play.
With this in mind, I set about Mark Mordue’s excellent new biography, Boy on Fire, The Young Nick Cave, with a magnifying glass. How did Cave get so good? How did he do it? What would Malcolm Gladwell make of him? Is he an outlier? A one-off?
The answer, although anything but mundane, is a bit more normal. He is the sum of some very remarkable parts. Talent, opportunity, good timing, and luck all play a part. But so too, and very significantly, does the fact that he is blessed with a solid loving family and a wonderful work ethic. Put them all together and magic does indeed ensue.
His family was astounding. His dad’s father once presented a radio show that he would end each night with a ghost story! It was he who changed the family name to Cave from Langvoight to disguise their Prussian roots. The story of his mum’s parents – with its awful tragedy and unlikely romance - is worthy of Emily Bronte.
But it’s his dad, Colin, that shines brightest. Evangelical about teaching, and a legend himself in those circles, it was he who ignited in Nick a love of the written word. Amazingly he gifted Nick a copy of Lolita when Nick was only 12. It became one of Nick’s favourite ever books. I put it to you that no dad would gift such a book to a ‘human’ child.
Colin’s teaching job led them to live in Wangaratta. There is no describing how central this “sacred place of my childhood” becomes to Nick. The first verse of Red Right Hand is an almost street-by-street reconstruction of it.
After that luck and timing are significant. He meets Mick Harvey in school and their band is soon playing competent versions of Bowie and Bryan Ferry songs. Hence, when Iggy Pop and local band The Saints light the punk fuse, Cave is well-positioned to take flight.
And take flight they do. When punk sparks a signing rush for similar bands, an offshoot of local label Mushroom Records signs his band The Boys Next Door. They are soon regulars at a venue called the Crystal Ballroom where even at this early stage Nick is described as “god under a follow spot”.
All of this puts Cave at the centre of what Mordue calls an incredible generation of talent. People like Rowland S Howard, his strong rival in Boys Next Door, and his initial first love and muse, the brilliant but sadly recently deceased Anita Lane.
A contemporary described Cave as basically having everything; charisma, a good head, family support, a work ethic, a personal creative vision, a sense of being chosen, and also being in the right place at the right time. Most people, she would argue, are missing at least two of these.
She omits “shooting stars at time of birth”, but I remain deeply suspicious.
The book ends as Nick prepares to travel to London. I can’t wait for volume two.
