Hanni El Khatib returns from a crazy NYE Vegas trip to fill you in on his top records of 2010. Want to learn what record will make girls’ panties melt off? Or what a real rap record should sound like? Read below!

Grinderman : “Grinderman 2″ – (man music)

Anika : “Anika” – (tripped out. half stoney / half reminiscent of another place and time)

Twin Shadow : “Forget” - (this record will make the panties melt right off anyones girlfriend)

Caribou : “Swim” – (the live show is insane)

Various Artists : “Forge Your Own Chains” – (the soundtrack to being lost in an Amazon rainforest in 1972)

Ariel Pink’s Haunted Graffiti : “Before Today” – (its like an acid laced scooby snack)

LCD Soundsystem : “This is Happening” – (always been a sucker for the lyrics on his records)

Dum Dum Girls : “I Will Be” – (can put me in a good mood anytime and anywhere)

Ghostface Killah : “Apollo Kids” - (This is what a real rap record should sound like)

The Filth Mongers : “The Filth Mongers” - (they play shows with paper bags over their heads and clearly don’t give a fuck what you think)

TOP 25 RELEASES OF 2010

Flying Lotus – Cosmogramma (Warp)

Four Tet – There is Love in You (Domino)

– Lainna Fader

Viewing from the bar, the frighteningly disturbing murals of Renaissance painter Hieronymus Bosch which covered the walls and the sanguine hued lights which engulfed the stage gave one the impression that they were at the gates of Hell rather than at the Henry Fonda Theatre in Hollywood.  Yet there was no thought of escaping. In the final show of their North American tour, Grinderman reminded Los Angeles how relevant and raw Nick Cave still is.  Throughout his set of strictly Grinderman material, Cave spat out his often dark and sexual lyrics while shifting between a black electric Telecaster, an electric piano, and even an acoustic guitar for one song.  The energy Cave forced upon the crowd caused those in the front to draw their arms toward the stage like lost souls reaching for one last morsel of salvation. And this was no average sized crowd. Grinderman sold out the show months ahead and every inch of dance floor, bar, and balcony was fought for and conquered by those with the deepest fanaticism. Throughout the set, Cave howled and thrusted like the rabid wolf on the cover of Grinderman 2.  Backing him up, Warren Ellis, Martyn P. Casey, and Jim Sclavunos resembled Greenwich Village bearded beatniks (say Ginsberg or the Fugs) and they were rhythmically the tightest backing band I have seen, which makes sense since they have all been with Nick Cave in the Bad Seeds since the mid-90s.  The multi-instrumentalist Ellis was a star of the show, switching between violin, electric guitar, maracas, and two electric Mandocasters (an electric mandolin which resembles a Fender Stratocaster). On one song, he would dance like a mad gypsy while wailing away at the violin, and the next, he would crash his maracas into a high-hat cymbal to provide some auxiliary percussion. On the song “Evil,” off of Grinderman 2, Ellis rolled on the floor and literally did crunches while belting out the chorus line.  The band preformed most of the songs from their two self-titled full-length albums and after an encore they departed the stage to let the damned return to their lives.

—Daniel Clodfelter

Grinderman is Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds in a new and naked form, and you can see a great deal of that nakedness in their very potent new video ‘Heathen Child.’ We conducted two separate interviews with two of the Grinders. Here drummer Jim Sclavunos speaks about his plan to buy a tank and become the last musician in the U.S.A. This interview by Chris Ziegler. Interview with Grinderman’s Warren Ellis here.

I understand where Blixa’s coming from. I didn’t get into rock ‘n’ roll to play rock ‘n’ roll either. My earliest bands were kind of noise bands. You know, I’m ancient. And at that time in New York, there was a thriving art scene and we had all sorts of stuff like the early minimalist, structuralist avant-garde, we had Meredith Monk, we had the loft-jazz scene. We had just come off the back end of the whole free jazz explosion. There were lots of crazy art-rock bands in New York proliferating both as a part of the club scene but also drawn there by the spirit of the Factory, the whole kind of Max’s scene and stuff like that. I found that all very exciting. Those were the kinds of bands I was in. I played with art bands. Noisy, no-wave and art rock bands. So yes, I didn’t get into it to play rock ‘n’ roll, but I did discover rock ‘n’ roll belatedly—mainly courtesy of Alex Chilton. I got lured into his sort of Memphis nexus. My whole thing has been sort of reconciling those two branches of the rock ‘n’ roll experience, trying to integrate them.
What was the record Alex used to get you into the rock ‘n’ roll side?
There wasn’t a specific record. I had done a tour with him.  A promoter who was booking the tour … they needed a drummer so he said, ‘Oh, just get me a pick-up drummer in New York.’ And she suggested me because she knew me from various Lydia Lunch things and Sonic Youth and what-have-you. She said, ‘Oh, well, Jim’s a nice guy. He could probably put up with this crazy man.’
That’s how you get ahead in the world.
Well, yeah—because I do have a reputation for putting up with crazy people. And being somewhat accused of that myself. So at the end of the tour he said, ‘You know, I’ve got this band called the Panther Burns down in Memphis and I think you’d really be good in it.’ So he lured me down to Memphis, which is, you know, a place and a culture diffused with roots music. I got down there and the day I got there he announced, ‘Hey, I decided to retire from music. I’m moving down to New Orleans to wash dishes. You’re welcome to join the band anyway. There’s a bunch of strangers you can play with.’
What has been your most chillingly accurate experience with a fortune-teller?
I’ve never had anything like that. Sorry, that’s a very flat and disappointing answer.
What has been your most rewarding experience with human rationality?
That’s saying that I’ve had any rewarding experience. I don’t like the turn that this interview is taking. You’re actually asking me to evaluate aspects of my life and I find that highly objectionable. For my memoirs. And I’m not going to give anything away because of my potential to be a selling point for my memoirs so you’re barking up the wrong tree, buster.
Joe Strummer said the thing that kept him honest was the horror of becoming the new Rolling Stones. What horror keeps you honest?
The horror of reading my quotes in the press.
There’s no escaping that horror.
And honesty and the search for truth is a never-ending quest. It’s a zen thing. You only strive for perfection—you never achieve it. It’s from Zen and the Art of Archery. You know, high school required reading.
What internationally known criminal do you think would have made a genius musician?
There’s a long, glorious history of criminals being artistes, dating back to Francois Villon, the poet, up to Charles Manson. There’s a long, glorious history of most people involved in the music business being crooks. But I reckon Bonnie and Clyde, if their movie is to be believed—their rockumentary is to be believed?—they were pretty rock ‘n’ roll. They were good dressers, they understood publicity, Clyde wrote some great works.
They obviously had no problem touring.
Yeah—he was a good tour manager. Kept them going, kept them one step ahead for the most part. It ended pretty badly but you know—even the best tour manager makes a mistake. So I reckon they probably would have been an excellent band.
When I interviewed Lydia Lunch for the Teenage Jesus thing in L.A., I asked her: ‘Is there anything left that disgusts you?’ What’s left that disgusts you?
There’s not enough battery life on this phone to answer that. Even if this phone were fully charged there wouldn’t be enough battery life on it for me to enumerate the many, many things that disgust me.
How does it strengthen one’s character to be booed at Madison Square Garden?
It doesn’t, really. What strengthens your character is that you can come up with a preposterous rationale, saying, ‘Oh, it strengthened my character.’ It all didn’t go down quite the way I imagined the first time I went to Madison Square Garden, you know? I saw the Bee Gee’s during their ‘Tragedy’ tour—the aptly named ‘Tragedy’ tour—and it was fantastic. It was fantastic. If you like silver lamé pants and bare-chested Australians … Hey, wait a minute. That sounds like somebody I know.
Better talk quieter.
They had the fire pots and the explosives going off in the very first song. They didn’t even wait to build it up. Shirts were off in the second song of the set. It was incredible. And the next time I went there was for a bunch of other people with no shirts. I saw the first time the sumo wrestlers came to Madison Square Garden. So I always imagined my debut at Madison Square Garden was going to be something like that—me with my shirt off with everybody kind of oohing and ahhing and explosions going off.
Your video was almost there—it’s got just about all of that.
We’re getting older but we’re not dead yet. There’s still a chance. My dream could still come true.

GRINDERMAN WITH ARMEN RA AND L.A. RECORD AFTERPARTY ON TUES., NOV. 30 AT THE MUSIC BOX AT THE HENRY FONDA THEATER, 6126 HOLLYWOOD BLVD. 8 PM / SOLD OUT / ALL AGES. GOLDENVOICE.COM. GRINDERMAN’S GRINDERMAN 2 IS OUT NOW ON ANTI-. VISIT GRINDERMAN AT GRINDERMAN.COM.

And here is Grinderman’s Warren Ellis, who plays the most vicious violin on planet Earth and speaks now through both a beard and a cold. This interview by Chris Ziegler. Interview with Grinderman’s Jim Sclavunos here.

Whose naked ass is in that video?
Warren Ellis (violin): That’s America’s finest—Big Jim Sclavunos.
Is that where the nickname Big Jim comes from—the ass?
He’s just a big bastard—a real tall fucker. But yeah—that’s his bum.
Was that a punishment or reward to flash that?
After years of playing in bands together, you just know that Jim just wears attire like that. That’s his kind of daily wear. When the moment was upon us to dress us as gladiators, that was of course what popped out underneath. It wasn’t staged—that guy’s got that under his trousers 24/7. I’m not joking.
You said once that when you have kids, you have to dress up in crazy stuff all the time and being a naked gladiator doesn’t seem to bother you. What’s the best thing your kids ever dressed you up as?
My kids don’t dress me up. You get arrested where I live for doing that! You’re in fucking jail if you do that—we have a hard line in my house. None of that! I do the Father Christmas though. I’ve got a beard and I stick a hat on, and I’ve been known to do a rather evil kind of Father Christmas. It just scares the kids at my children’s school—half think I look cool and the other half think I eat children.
Is this with school approval or do you just show up?
I just show up to pick my kids up! I’ll ask my kids—‘What do your friends make of me?’ ‘Half think you’re cool and the other half think you eat children.’ ‘What do you think of that?’ ‘Ah, it’s alright.’ I don’t eat children as a rule—I’m a vegetarian.
Is it true your wife would prefer you to have a crack habit instead of a beard?
She probably would if push comes to shove. She can’t stand it. But it’s the only vice I have these days.
Wouldn’t a crack habit be more expensive for a family?
It probably would. There’s no logic to my statement—it’s just the truth. Lou Reed said when they ask you a question and they want the truth or a lie, always give ’em the lie because no one wants to hear the truth. And Lou Reed’s right on—Lou Reed is more than right on! Have you heard Take No Prisoners—the double-live album? Listen to that if you wanna hear the truth, man. Some of the greatest dialogue ever committed live. Unbelievable.
The L.A. mayor used ‘Street Hassle’ for a promo film about how nice the new subway will be.
What an inspired decision! That’s one of my favorite albums of all time! I love that song! Particularly what that song’s about—‘Hey, that cunt’s not breathing! I think she’s had too much/Of something or other/Hey, man, you know what I mean?’ That’s just the greatest song. It’ll be great if people are like fucking dropping dead down in the subways. ‘By morning, she’s just another hit-and-run.’ Oh, man. The greatest song. ‘Sha na na na, babe—come on, let’s slip away.’ I hope he agreed to that—hope he gets paid a lot for it! They shoulda used ‘I Wanna Be Black.’
And shoot ten feet of jizm on the L.A. subway?
Exactly! What a great album! Fuck man! They don’t make records like that anymore.
I can’t remember the last time I heard a record that said ‘jizm.’
People used to make an effort back then. It was considered kinda high art and people were aiming for something and making records was important and there was a value to it. All those things have changed. I’d like to think our new record—I know we certainly put a lot of goodwill into it and a lot of effort. I think we certainly try and make records like the records that blew our minds when we were younger. But I don’t know. I must be honest—I have a hard time keeping up with new stuff. I love that Gil Scott Heron record that came out with that incredible cover of a Smog song. It’s fantastic. That Smog song is fucking amazing—it just takes a whole new meaning. But again, that’s kind of older—I’m more likely to go pick up the Neil Young thing. I have less time these days to listen to music and when I do, I want it to be something where I kind of know where I’m gonna stand with it. I’m still listening to Howlin’ Wolf and John Coltrane and Miles Davis and AC/DC. The Stooges. I unfortunately don’t have too many contemporary records.
What’s the difference between a freak from 1970 and a freak from 2010? Do they still make freaks like they used to?
I’m not seeing them! It was a different time—people had less to care about. It seemed like things were more playful—look at the way people dressed. I’m not someone who could make an intelligent comment based on casual observation.
You could speak on freaks. You’ve done field study.
I reckon there’s still freaks out there. It used to be something really celebrated. A lot of things people haul up as freaks these days are kind of manicured. It’s very hard to shock these days. When I was a kid, it was a very different world. You could make a film of a schoolgirl giving you a cigarette—in ‘It’s a Long Way to the Top,’ Bon Scott’s in the back of a truck and a schoolgirl hands a cigarette to him. You’d be put in jail if you did that nowadays. It was just different. Drugs were very different back then, too—that’s what they say!
They might legalize weed next month. California will be the American Pleasure State.
There’s other drugs I’d legalize before I’d legalize pot. I think pot’s much more insidious—it has more potential to blow people’s minds than other things.
What is your personal recommendation for a gateway drug?
I would say the thing that agrees with you. If it doesn’t, it probably isn’t worth pursuing because it probably isn’t gonna get any better. I wouldn’t say everything is for everybody. I’m not a big expert, but I know what pushes my buttons. It takes a while to work that out. These days it’s just a beard, really. Not fuckin’ beer! I never drink beer. Although it is good on a hot day. I’ll give it that much.
There’s a story about when Blixa Bargeld left the Bad Seeds, he said, ‘I didn’t get into rock ‘n’ roll to play rock ‘n’ roll!’
Yeah—he had a point!
What did you get into rock ‘n’ roll for?
By accident, really. I used to love listening to it, but I never played any particular rock ‘n’ roll instrument. That’s probably what got me into it. At the point when I was playing, everybody played the guitar and drums and bass. And I was playing electric violin through a messy amplifier and making one hell of a racket. And because what I was doing was so un-rock ‘n’ roll, I probably got into it. But Blixa was totally correct when he said that, as strange as it sounds. He’s always been about another pursuit. He’s totally correct—God bless him! Bless him! What he was saying—there was a certain tack being taken with the song they were trying to do and he’d never been about that thing so he stormed out.
Joe Strummer said the horror of becoming the new Rolling Stones kept him honest. What horror keeps you honest?
The thing that keeps me honest—hopefully I’ll know when I’m not honest. I’m in the Dirty Three and we were kinda amazed we even started playing shows. One day we were like, ‘How long do you think we’ll keep going?’ ‘Well, when we feel like what we’re saying isn’t true.’ I’ve always kind of had that with whatever I do. Hopefully I would know when it wasn’t the truth. You hope that you will have the sense to realize when it’s not meaning anything and get out.
Jim says one of the best things about Grinderman is you get the freedom to be ridiculous.
We sit down for like five days and bang on endlessly. Some of it’s really inspired and some of it’s the biggest pile of crap you’ve heard in your life.
Tell me more about the crap.
Ah, probably about as low as you can imagine and even beyond that! After like two or three days, you’ve tried everything and you’re totally empty of ideas, and then it becomes this thing of just trying anything. Sometimes for hours and hours it can just go on—this mind-numbingly horrendous stuff! But what’s really interesting—we’ve all played together so we cannot feel intimidated or bothered by it, you know? I know I can do something and people might laugh or something, but it’s OK. It’s alright to do it. It allows you to take risks, and that’s the great thing about Grinderman—to take risks! New risks! The thing with this record—the most successful thing about it—is we’ve tried to go into areas that weren’t immediately apparent to us. Before, it’d be like, ‘Well, I don’t know really about going down there.’ And now we’ve gone, ‘OK—let’s light it. Let’s see what happens.’
What was it like getting booed at Madison Square Garden?
There was a fair bit of that! And a lot of people looking in disbelief, too. It took people by surprise, you know?
You should be proud. The Beatles never got to get booed at Madison Square Garden.
Really? Wow. We’ll put that on our CV.
So you’re establishing a tradition of animals committing genital acts on your album covers—
What’s the wolf doing?
Didn’t he piss all over that bathroom?
That’s just a reaction to the bathroom.
Or the pressure of show biz?
I don’t know if it was his first shoot or not. Maybe he was making a comment on the proceedings. Certainly Mother Nature in all her glory was there.
What animal performing what genital act most reflects the philosophy of Grinderman?
I don’t really know! I’ve never really thought about it. I could get arrested! You shoulda asked me that question in the ’70s! People would have applauded it!
What’s the most chillingly accurate experience you’ve had with a fortune-teller?
When I was in my early twenties, I was in bed and I was listening to the radio. A bit of piano music was on—beautiful. Suddenly I couldn’t breathe or get up or get out of bed. It was like something was holding me down. I started panicking and I looked down at the end of my bed and there was a big shape of a person there. I could see the outline of his face. He was just looking at me. This was in the middle of the afternoon and I was straight. And when the music finished, the announcer said, ‘You’re listening to Burt Evans’ Piano Concerto of 1909’ or something like that, and I took that as a sign that it was time to get on with my life and I went out and started playing in bands. And that’s the truth.
That would have scared me off music.
It happened a few years before—the same form. Just sitting in the back of the room. I’d just discovered Beethoven—I’d never been into classical music before; I always liked contemporary music—and I was playing it and there was this form at the end of my bed. The same form. I’ve never questioned it. I just took it for what it was and moved on. It scared the shit out of me!
These kind of experiences tend to come in threes—ready for one more?
I hope it’s not tonight. I have a cold! There was one—another time I was playing my flute and I did have a weird sensation. The cupboard started glowing and this force passed through me and I could feel it in the back of my head and come out my stomach, and then I stopped and I threw up. I was in the dark and I threw up. I don’t know what that was. Then I found out the girl I was living with, her grandmother died in that room. So I said, ‘Fuck, man—I guess she don’t like the flute!’ Maybe that’s the third one.
I don’t know anyone who had to throw up because a ghost flew through them.
Is that right? Well, I’m telling you the truth, man.
Are these kinds of experiences just par for the Grinderman experience?
No, I never talk about it—you asked me the question. No one would ever know that. No—we just go in to make music.
What criminal would have made the best musician?
Charlie Manson had a shot on the guitar, didn’t he? He was alright. He had some cranky stuff going on.
What musician would have made the best criminal?
Most of them are, aren’t they? What musician hasn’t been a criminal would be more the question!
What’s the most perfect crime you ever committed?
I used to do some very slick shoplifting. Stuff like toys and things. And food. I was a kid. A young offender. I was spending my money on other stuff!
Did you ever shoplift hot food?
No! I’m talking produce.
Pineapples?
No! Where you gonna stick a pineapple? Fuck man! You think the world’s just one big bloody Jane’s Addiction film clip, don’t you? You think you can just stick it all up a fake stomach or something, don’t you? Fuck man—a pineapple? Where would you put a pineapple?
A top hat?
Well—there you could!

GRINDERMAN WITH ARMEN RA AND L.A. RECORD AFTERPARTY ON TUES., NOV. 30 AT THE MUSIC BOX AT THE HENRY FONDA THEATER, 6126 HOLLYWOOD BLVD. 8 PM / SOLD OUT / ALL AGES. GOLDENVOICE.COM. GRINDERMAN’S GRINDERMAN 2 IS OUT NOW ON ANTI-. VISIT GRINDERMAN AT GRINDERMAN.COM.

(from Nocturama on Anti)

Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds delivered a sermon of gospel-drenched crunch-boogid and electrified power to a suddenly saved crowd of Angelenos. From the opening notes of “Night Of The Lotus Eaters,” it was clear that the electric-mandolin-wielding Rasputin doppelganger usually known as Warren Ellis was given free range to unleash feedback freakouts, scratchy blues riffs, and demonic-sounding samples of reconstructed chaos. Ellis has actually developed into a compelling second front man, and though his gyrations seem out of control, they’re actually quite purposefully and beautifully chaotic. During “We Call Upon The Author,” he got on the ground and frantically pawed at all of his effects pedals, unleashing a sleazy porno-funk breakdown. However, the real showman last night was Cave, with his slicked-back hair that made even baldness look bad-ass and a mustache that puts Will Ferrell’s Anchorman ‘stache to shame, and of course that dapper suit. As he prowled the stage, his arms moved like two cobras flailing to find a victim and his fiery eyes searched for hungry souls. During “Deanna” he touched the audience’s hands like an evangelical healer. The rest of the Bad Seeds held their own, too, and seemed intent on adding raw power to every song played. It’s clear that Cave and Ellis did not exorcise all of their demons during 2007′s Grinderman disc—instead, they amplified them, and recruited the rest of the Bad Seeds to spread their message. For having so many instruments and musicians on stage—most of the songs had two drummers—the sound was amazingly clear and balanced. The setlist ran the spectrum from old songs like “Tupelo” and “The Mercy Seat” to a majority of tracks from the recent Dig Lazarus Dig!!! Only a few ballad-like songs were played and even they had added power. They ended with “Stagger Lee” and when the lights faded, sinners and saints alike left with looks of satisfied pleasure on their faces.

—Eric Claesson

(from Nocturama on Anti)

Since this is your first Bowl show do you feel at all like Frank Sinatra?
Well, he played there, did he? I wish I had a toupee like him. I wouldn’t mind a silver toupee like that.
Do you remember what you did on the second to last day you lived in L.A.?
No. Am I supposed to?
Depends what you were doing.
I would have gone down to 6th and Union and scored some drugs.
Is Snoop Dogg still going to cover ‘No Pussy Blues’?
Nick Launay our producer allegedly played it to Snoop, and he really dug it, and made some kind of noises about wanting to rap on it, but it never happened. We sent the stems and stuff of the music but it didn’t happen. These things either happen or they don’t, really. For me I couldn’t think of anyone I’d rather have sing on that particular song. But it’s a different kind of world, I guess.
How serious were the deliberations when you were a judge the World Beard And Mustache Championships?
To be completely honest I was at sea—completely at sea. I wouldn’t know one fucking mustache from another one.
How did you decide?
I just said what the guy next to me said. All I know is I felt humbled because I had this kind of pathetic sort of thing growing on my face, and I know there were some extraordinary mustaches and partial beards, particularly. You know—‘A man without a mustache is like woman with one.’
How did you first hear Karen Dalton?
A very good friend of mine Mick Geyer who died four or five years ago—he turned me on to her. He was an Australian DJ and a very good friend and kind of an excavator of music. He turned me on to a lot of stuff, actually. But Karen Dalton was a huge favorite among all of us Bad Seeds boys. You know—beautiful. They’ve released the second album which I particularly love. With ‘When A Man Loves A Woman,’ and I think it’s got ‘Katie Cruel’ on it, and—fuck, I can’t remember the name of it but it’s one of the most beautiful songs I ever heard.
What kind of things do you write in your office that will never see the light of day?
Oh, the hardcore porn that I get into?
Would you be opposed to a posthumous collection of all your pornography?
Not at all. I’m just saving it for a rainy day.
What book have you given away the most copies of?
One book I tended to give away quite a lot which I think is extraordinary is The Informers by Bret Easton Ellis. I think it’s great book. I’m actually a huge fan of his. That particular book—The Informers—line for line is just extraordinary. It has this effect—you feel you like you need to read him fast, and if you don’t and you just check out one line followed by the next line, what he’s writing to me is just extraordinary. He’s definitely a contemporary writer that I’ve sort of turned people on to—that particular book of his.
What kind of reactions do you get back from people?
I don’t know.
They just never bring it up again?
I remember giving it to Mick Harvey my guitarist, and I think he found it a little—disturbing. He found it disturbing. But he’s got kind of a weak stomach when it comes to things like that. Go gentle on Mick.
What was the last time you held a pistol in your hand?
A pistol or a rifle? A rifle about a week ago. I was in Italy, and they have rather relaxed gun laws over there. It was like a .22—it wasn’t high-powered.
Was this a formal occasion?
It was at a villa I was holidaying at. I don’t know what they shot with that. Mussolini used to holiday there. His bed was still there. The bottom of his shower stall hung on the wall as kind of a piece of art.
What kinds of dreams does one have in the Mussolini suite?
Well, it wasn’t the Mussolini suite. It sounds a lot more luxurious than it actually was. It was a room but it has Mussolini’s bed in it. I don’t sleep much anyway.
So you’re immune to his power?
Exactly. But I didn’t put the kids in there. Though they bounced up and down on it.
All you need now is a vacation at the Fuhrerbunker.
I slept in Charlie Chaplin’s bed. There’s a studio on a boat owned by Dave Gilmour from Pink Floyd, and he has a little bed that Charlie Chaplin slept on when he was over in England at some period in one of the back rooms. It was rather nice to go and lie there. We were mixing Abbatoir Blues—I’d kind of lie there and feel he was sort of… you know. I’m a Charlie Chaplin fan. I’m a Buster Keaton fan even more.
Harold Lloyd?
Fatty Arbuckle. Have you read I, Fatty? You should, man. It’s poignant.
Something you said in the Guardian—who seems to cover you fairly often—
Yes, they just sort of camp on my doorstep.
Have you ever camped out on someone’s doorstep? Charlie Feathers’ doorstep?
No.
Has anyone done that to you?
I don’t know. I don’t answer the door.
You just stay quiet upstairs?
They don’t get past the fucking security. They don’t get past the razor wire.
In your lecture on the love song, you talk a bit about how this quality of sadness—duende—is disappearing from modern music. Do you still feel that way?
Well, it’s in literature, isn’t it? Literature is amazing actually—music would seem to be—or film, I’m not sure—but music is one of the more conservative fields of art. It’s supposed to not be, but you’re actually extremely limited where you can go with music. Lyrically, I’m talking about. But with literature you can go anywhere, and people do go anywhere—no one expects a happy ending from a book. You can write about anything. In music you’re very limited in what people will accept that you can write about. I’m writing a novel at the moment and the kind of freedom I’m feeling with this is sort of magnificent. That’s always been to me the difficult part of songwriting—the actual lack of freedom. If I wanna write a really depressing song—in a song format, it doesn’t actually work very well. Who wants to hear a really depressing song? I don’t. I don’t think anybody really does. But with literature you can go places you can’t go with music. Music has a lot of kind of swagger to it—like we’re on the cutting edge. But I’m not actually sure that it is. Film is a million times worse, of course. We’re working on a movie now—
The sex comedy with no sex?
The Road—we’re creating some incredibly beautiful and brutal kind of music, which if we were making a Bad Seeds record or a Grinderman record, we’d just stick on the record and go, ‘Hey, that’s cool. Put it out.’ But here—everything you do, you always kind of know there’s somebody out there that’s going to say, ‘No. We don’t want that sort of music in this particular film.’ And it’s not going to be anybody who’s involved in the creative process of making the film. It’s gonna be some—
Accountant?
Exactly. And there’s an aspect to that that is kind of heartbreaking. I’m very very good friends and in constant contact with John Hillcoat, who made The Proposition and who is making The Road, and it’s fucking heartbreaking. The amount of work that goes into getting a fucking film off the ground, and the amount of kind of—this sort of perpetual chipping away that goes on of your idea by people who… it’s kind of heartbreaking.
What’s the healthiest way to deal with those limitations?
On the good side—there seems to be some truly challenging films coming out of Hollywood these days. Not a lot, but there seems to be a resurgence. I don’t know the word, but people are allowed to be a little bit more challenging recently, which is good news.
What films? The Dark Knight?
I saw that—fucking wild! I saw that with my kids. They’re like eight and it blew their fucking heads off. They kind of walked out with the blood drained from their faces.
Sounds like they’re having an interesting childhood.
Well, I’m not trying to write the book on bringing up on children.
Do you have to ration yourself out when you’re working on music and a novel and a film? How do you know your own limits?
It’s totally instinctual. At the moment it’s gone haywire. I don’t how to say this in other way than sounding really kind of stupid, but it just seems to work. If I say ‘I’ll hand this in within a month or three weeks,’ it seems so far at least I can just do that. It’s an extremely productive kind of period. Or at least I’ve worked out how to be efficient. It’s not the office hours—it’s way more than that these days! It’s like that Steinbeck thing. He said he used to write six days a week and he just couldn’t take it anymore, so now he writes seven days a week. It’s a bit like that. I just enjoy it—love it—and that’s why I do it. Simple as that.
Is it fair to describe you as ‘writhing with unease’?
It depends on the situation. When I’m working, I’m really really happy—I’m not doing anything I don’t wanna do. For me, the whole creative thing—in a way, it always has been, even when it wasn’t—has been a cheerful thing. Even when it wasn’t joyful, it was joyful.
Do you feel your greatest work is ahead of you?
I don’t judge things in that way, but there’s a lot of stuff ahead for sure. I’ve always felt while I’m doing something that it’s the greatest thing that’s ever been done, and very soon after it’s finished, I realize it’s just a record or just a book, and I start the next thing. And then that’s the greatest thing that’s ever been done. I’ve always looked at Dylan, for example—he was an exciting artist. Every record he put out whether you liked it or not challenged you—you had to work out whether you liked Bob Dylan or not. You could never take it for granted that he was gonna put out a record you were gonna dig. It might be a reggae record or who knows? And I think we’ve tried to do that as well.
Do you find things you like instantly doesn’t last as long as stuff you had to study?
Sometimes there’s stuff you don’t like and you can return to it til the cows come home… but there is great music that takes a few plays to get under your skin.
What did you have to study hardest?
Classical music. Bach. Stuff like that. Which I could never really get my head around. And then it clicks and you go, ‘Oh dear.’
Do you remember the last love letter you ever wrote?
Yeah, I do. I’m not gonna fucking quote it to you!
Did you send it or keep it?
Well, look—all my songs are love letters. They’re love letters to the world. Love letters sent out to the world.
Like in your lecture.
Exactly. I think there’s a lot of good stuff in there actually. I don’t know where that came from!
Do you agree with the reviewer who said you’d rather be reviled than lauded?
To be reviled—it gives me an enormous amount of energy. For a long time I operated on a kind of fuck-you! basis. The last time I felt that for example was when we played with Grinderman with the White Stripes at Madison Square Garden. We played two—maybe three shows ever with Grinderman. The first was in some tiny little barn somewhere, and the next was at Madison Square Garden. It was a kind of great leap. And we played for an audience that was there—quite rightly—to see the White Stripes. And we played our set and you could feel this tension mounting from one song to another—of a lot of people who actually dug us and a lot of people who wanted us to fucking get off so they could see the White Stripes. I haven’t felt that in a while but I know that feeling really well. I just know that feeling of suddenly looking at the rest of the band and it’s like, ‘Fuck you.’ And you really go for it. You’re not trying to please anyone. You want to alienate people as much as possible. And there’s an enormous power behind that. That’s how we were raised. In Australia, you had your band and you played and everyone hated you, and that’s the end of it.
Do you only get to that feeling in music?
It’s a bit lonely to sit and write a book and put it out and everyone says it’s shit. But there is an energy that you can get—there’s a fuck-you kind of thing, and I’ve always responded to that.
Are you going to be thinking like this onstage at the Bowl? I don’t know if anyone has ever said ‘fuck you’ up there.
Wait for it. It’ll be after the fifth song.
Are we any closer now to a Nick Cave Vegas comeback special?
I don’t know—I’ll do anything that I have to do! To me one of the most honorable things are people who are working, and making life-and-death decisions around their work. And if that means you have to kind of whore yourself in Las Vegas to feed the kids, so be it. I don’t have—to me, going out and making a buck is actually a very honorable thing to do. That’s what everyone’s doing.
When the NME got you and Mark E. Smith and Shane McGowan in a roundtable, Mark said Australians won’t do hard work. Was he incorrect?
Mark… Mark is Mark. What more can be said? I’m friends with Mark.
What do you guys do when you’re together? Sit around on the couch and watch soccer?
No, we don’t. I don’t know what to say about Mark. To me, he is one of the greatest writers of his generation—absolutely. And one of the most original writers. I love his music. And he was always the one for me at that time back then—the one to watch. The one that was doing stuff nobody else was coming anywhere near.
What are some albums you once loved and lost and have now come back to again?
There’s a lot of music I listened to as a kid—fourteen or fifteen or like that—that I was very much into. Then I started listening to the punk rock stuff, and part of that was to disregard that music. There’s a wonderful feeling over the last ten years where you pick up Lark’s Tongue in Aspic—the King Crimson album—and you hear this extraordinary stuff. Because everything was thrown out—talk about throwing out the baby with the bathwater. And it kind of needed to happen. But there was some—in a rather lovely way, the young kids these days don’t have that. There’s no embarrassment to them for ripping a guitar lick off a Pink Floyd record or something like that. It’s all up for grabs.
Who has been the biggest musical constant in your own life?
Year after year after year after year? I’m not saying I’m rushing out to buy his records, but if I hear a Van Morrison song or hear his voice, I still go kind of weak at the knees.
When you do these interviews, what philosophical truths do people seek from you?
I don’t know what they want to know! They assume that I have a certain wisdom about things, which has something to do with my age or something. I think they pretty soon realize I don’t. Then they get down to asking me the standard line of questions.
What’s your best standard answer?
To what question? What astounds me is people are in some way interested in my work habits like its some kind of fucking story. I can’t understand that at all. If anything, it isn’t a story. It’s someone who does the same thing day after day after day.
What is your story? What are you most proud of?
I’m proud of everything! I don’t look back at stuff. I have a basic—a basic good feeling about what’s my life, and the trajectory of my life personally and creatively. I don’t look back and sort of wince. I have a very selective memory and I’m an optimist. I have a huge amount of faith of people and in the individual and I don’t have a lot of faith in governments and decisions that are made in that way. But to the individual—I feel we’re basically a decent kind of species.
Would 18-year-old Nick Cave be proud of you saying that?
I would have felt the same thing then. My basic opinions about things and the way I operate about things have always been that way, or at least they were formed when I was 16 or 17. And they’re pretty much the same. And I think it’s the same with everybody. I don’t know why but certain things are imprinted in your psyche that you love and you’re attracted to, and that never changes. There’s a certain ideal—there’s a feminine ideal that I had as a child and as a teenager that operates today. I don’t know why that is. That certain particular female aesthetic turns me on, but it does. And it’s the same for everything in life.
How does it feel watching this happen in your own children?
It’s vertiginous. I feel dizzy watching my kids. The little ones especially. The capacity they have to absorb information. And you see that’s what’s going on—that’s exactly what I’m talking about. And I have 17 and 18 year olds and there’s nothing—there’s nothing that will change the course of their lives. They might choose whatever jobs they wanna do and whatever, but they are a certain type of people and they’re always gonna be that way, whatever that happens to be.
Did you have to learn how to be a father?
I don’t say that I’m any better with the twins that are seven then I was with the other ones. It’s a whole new set. You wing it, don’t you? And that’s what you learn about your own parents. They were just winging it, too.
What’s something practical you can tell people to help them make daily life a little bit better for themselves?
Right now I’m hearing the most beautiful violin I’ve ever heard in my life being played by Warren Ellis.
You’re breaking my heart by proxy.
He’s unbelievable. I don’t know. Who wants to hear what I got to say? You have to try a bit harder than that to wrap up the interview. You want me to do all the fucking work.

—Chris Ziegler

NICK CAVE WITH SPIRITUALIZED AND CAT POWER ON WED., SEPT. 17, AT THE HOLLYWOOD BOWL, 2301 N. HIGHLAND AVE., HOLLYWOOD. 7:30 PM / $25-$55 / ALL AGES. LAPHIL.COM. NICK CAVE AND THE BAD SEEDS’ DIG LAZARUS DIG!!! IS OUT NOW ON ANTI. VISIT NICK CAVE AT NICKCAVEANDTHEBADSEEDS.COM OR MYSPACE.COM/NICKCAVEANDTHEBADSEEDS.