Meeting Nick Cave

Posted: December 20, 2014 in poetry
Tags: , , , , , , , , ,

nick-cave-04

Metropolis, Fremantle, 1990s.
Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds and the Cruel Sea are playing
My legendary brother Nick, passed on now, possessed the gift of extravagant bullshitting and gets us in back stage
Nick Cave and Tex Perkins are playing pool
We are in rock and roll paradise, and the deepest vaults of hell at the same time
The Bad Seeds are there looking like the ‘before’ ad for a drug rehab, but elegant in suits
You’ve got to do it with style
My brother and my mate play them at pool, but instead of shaking hands at the end they brush their hair back- too cool for school
Nick Cave asks me: ‘Hey man, have you got any speed?’
Captain junkie darkness, Mr Black Trousers who towers over Rock and Roll like a dark brooding demon wants to score drugs from me
I curse myself for not having the drugs and apologize
Imagine what it would be like shooting up with Nick Cave
They find some somewhere else and have a dang in the toilet
Then the gig, which was awesome like a threesome with cocaine-basted Swedish identical twins both called Helga
We watched from the side
Afterwards, the bands had a rider of at least twenty cartons of Heineken and we all get into it
I approach the Master.
He looks like a particularly cool vampire-devil with unearthly pale skin and an explosion of night-black hair
Piercing dark blue eyes with massive pupils
Thin, spectral, gangly yet more real than any person I have ever seen
Nick Cave
Who once wrote his twisted nightmare lyrics of death, perversion, murder and retribution in blood with a syringe
Who is an Antarctica-cool gentleman-junkie, living embodiment of the blackest rock and roll mythology
Who wrote a brilliant, dense novel about death and deformity in the deep south on blitzkrieg Berlin speed and smack
Who inspired a thousand crappy Goth bands but never sold out
Who has did a shit-load of drugs and produced great art by always following the muse

And that is the trick, that’s the gimmick
To turn the fractures in your consciousness into mountains and valleys of creativity
To mutate into a seer and visionary prophet by putting your senses in a blender
To transform your worst faults, fears and nightmares into art
To create from primal sex, death, addiction and hallucination with the aim of visionary transcendence and transformation.
To birth a comprehensive universe of pain and perversity which pulverizes the powerful forces of conformity and destroys monolithic totalitarian mind-fuckers
To embody new creation, revolution, rebellion and subversion
Not just be a stupid junkie nodding off in a corner doing fuck all, more conformist than a yuppie.

I ask him about what drugs he was on when he did the ‘Nick the Stripper’ video
‘Speed and Heroin’ he replies
Said he doesn’t like pot much
Likes drugs you stick in your arm

We talk about a song on the Tender Prey album that I like but they have never performed live
We talk about art, literature, music and the shadows of religion
I sing him a song I wrote about trying to score ganja from Syd Barret and smoking the corpse of Jimmy Hendrix
He says ‘You’re a pretty funny cunt.’
I take it as a compliment.
Afterwards we steal his empty packet of Marlboro Lights, and we stick it to the wall with a sign saying ‘Nick Cave’s Cigarettes’

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