Well, that's how Nick Cave saw it, in the days of The Birthday Party. In the days when I was, oh, about 12.
I'm not sure if Sonny is burning right now, and if he is, what his burning is like, but I am sure that Nick Cave is smoking hot, cooking with gas, and totally on fire – after all these years of performing!
Who would have thought that messy, loud bloke, with his cacophony of jazzed-punk, and a band full of heroin habits would still be strutting and gyrating around a stage almost 30 years on? Still just as physical, just as passionate, with biting, witty lyrics, and now so much class. He is a man of style and he just keeps getting better!
I was first introduced to the marvel of Cave by my dear friend Patti. I was new to the school, and she took pity on my hair flicks and love of Meat Loaf, befriending me and gently steering me towards the likes of Boys Next Door. The first song I heard was Shivers and I was hooked. How a 12 year old girl at a Catholic girls' school, with no older siblings, knew about these bands I still don't know, but she was musically wise beyond her years. Too young for the heyday of the Trade Union Club, we made do with Rock Around The World, Continental Drift, and shops like The Record Plant, and Red Eye for our music fix.
Growing up, living with flatmates, I gradually lost all my albums, but I still have a little folder of singles. I had a look tonight. In it, I found Mr Clarinet, by the Birthday Party, and Tupelo, by the Bad Seeds. Can't wait to play them when the kids wake up in the morning.
On Friday night I headed to the Enmore to see Grinderman again. Running late to meet Patti and Sverker, I saw Nick in the back of the car that was rounding the corner I was about to cross. Sunglasses on, he watched as I smiled the vague smile of someone who doesn't want to be seen as a fan, but who is.
The band is touring hot on the heels of the release of their second album – the not so creatively titled Grinderman 2. While I prefer the first album, the storyteller has still got it. The guy is a genius at weaving a tale, painting the picture. I envy over and over his ability.
Nick's drawn out, angsty deliverance of 'Kitchenette', spitting "Relax!" in to front row faces, was brilliant. Like his novel, 'The Death of Bunny Munro', he gets into the psyche of the everyman – the seedy everyman – and his story of cheating conjures the mental images of fibro housing and an unmade chenille-covered bed.
'No Pussy Blues' is a personal favourite, and as he strutted the stage like an untamed animal, all sex-appeal, and with a confidence that comes with being (legend has it) seriously well-endowed, you wonder how he could have ever found the inspiration for such lyrics.
At the age of 53, he growls that he is the 'Grinderman' – the driving rhythmic intensity of that song is so much better live – and we believe him. On stage, Nick Cave is captivating, but he shares his spotlight. Warren Ellis must be noted as the very talented, multi-instrumentalist who fleshes out every song with his bare-footed jigging and writhing. Beard and violin strings flying, he adds wildness to the beast that is Grinderman, and I always enjoy watching him play.
As far as singles from the new album, I prefer 'Palaces of Montezuma' to 'Heathen Child' (though I love the kids t-shirts from the latter), but that's nit-picking. With any Nick Cave performance it's all killer no filler.
I was camera-free on the night, but I did have a press ticket when I saw him with The Bad Seeds at All Tomorrow's Parties on Cockatoo Island two years ago, and I never got around to putting those pics on here, so I'm going to cheat a little and use them now.
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