Nick Cave’s opening words set the tone: Faith, hope and massacre. The foreword to a book that feels like a long interview is blunt: interviews in general are exhausting. They demand time and energy. They can feel invasive. Still, the release of this 300 page conversation, in 2020 during a quiet stretch at home, brought a surprising amount of candor from the singer. The conversation was between Cave and Sean O’Hagan, a Northern Irish journalist and friend who guided the series.
The central thread of these conversations is a heart wrenching reckoning with the death of Cave’s son Arthur. The boy fell from a cliff after taking LSD in Brighton in 2015, at only fifteen. In the foreword, O’Hagan notes Cave’s unflinching honesty about the tragedy and the raw, unguarded reactions that follow. At one point Cave remarks that loss has left an imprint on his life that is impossible to erase.
Several passages come from moments of near unbearable weight. The recollection of Arthur’s death drew wide attention and closed a chapter in Cave’s creative life. It became a path toward forgiveness, a chance to speak to his son through the work he left behind. Cave insists that the catastrophe not only changed him personally but also redirected his art, imbuing it with a deeper purpose. He says that since Arthur died he has found a way to move beyond the grip of pain and discover a kind of happiness that felt completely new. He asserts that even the deepest loss carried a potential spark of joy, a gift Arthur left behind.
come out of the dark
In the wake of profound grief, Cave and his wife Susie found light in the kindness of others. Their faith that the world is not driven by malice, but by care and love, became a guide back toward life. They acknowledge that they are not the same people they were before, yet they chose to live with openness about their mourning. Cave reflects on a common question for those who grieve: does the sadness ever lift? The answer he gives is hopeful you can reach a different place, where life gains a fresh clarity and purpose.
The exploration of this journey does more than map personal healing. It also marks a deliberate look at religious belief and its role in art. The singer notes that interest in religious themes is ancient, tracing back to humanity’s earliest rituals. In his younger years, churchgoing was a rarity, even as church visits appeared in his work as inspiration. In recent times Cave has become more willing to accept what he calls the poetic truth of a divine presence. He even contends that atheism can hinder the art of songwriting because it denies a fundamental sacred dimension in music.
Drugs and rock and roll
Even with serious topics at the fore, the pages also offer lighter, vivid scenes of sex, drugs and the rock scene. Cave speaks candidly about his experiences with heroin and alcohol, even as he acknowledges a fatigue with the topic. He recounts delusional episodes from his earlier years and recalls a moment after leaving his first rehab when a provocative idea circulated in the press. The music press at the time suggested a meeting that brought together prominent figures who in their own lives had faced substance struggles. Cave notes that those encounters did not truly understand his situation.
The book also delves into the craft of making music. It offers a candid look at how songs come together and the inner dynamics of the bands Cave leads. The Bad Seeds are highlighted for their collaborative spirit and the challenges of recording with multi instrument players. The dynamics in the studio are described with a mix of humor and honesty, including a notorious moment when a collaborator left the band mid session and delivered a memorable line about not entering rock and roll simply to perform rock and roll.
Even in moments of levity, Cave carries a deep sense of melancholy. O’Hagan describes an acute awareness of life’s fragility that threads through the entire work. Over the twelve months of conversation, the singer faced further losses, including his mother, a close music producer friend, and a trusted collaborator. Not long after, his eldest son Jethro passed away at thirty. The sequence of hard blows leaves a trace that shapes the brightest passages as well. Cave captures the feeling in a stark line about hope: hope is optimism with a broken heart.