Written by Dimitra Didangelou, Psychologist, MSc
Published on The Brussels Review
So keep your candles burning
And make her journey bright and pure
That she will keep returning
Always and forever
Nick Cave, Into my Arms
When a man who has lost his two sons speaks openly about the deep pain of loss but also the rebirth through it, faith and trust in the course of life, and when that man is Nick Cave, his words can only sound consoling, soothing our existential anxieties – which is what his music and lyrics have been doing for thousands of people for decades.
Cave, in his familiar black suit and tie, sunk into the armchair on the stage of the Bozar cultural space in Brussels opposite Seán O’Hagan. This time, he doesn’t sing as we are accustomed. He answers the questions addressed to him by the journalist with his special Irish accent – which Cave did not leave untouched – and they discuss the topics contained in the autobiographical book they co-authored entitled Faith, Hope and Carnage*.
The book comes alive through his living, kind, spoken word. His presence exudes respect and quiet strength as he openly shares such serious topics without dampening the atmosphere. Humor often presents itself as a defense and counterweight.
Although this time Cave can’t fill the stage with his usual eerie movements while holding his microphone, his melancholic musicality permeates the high-ceilinged hall. At the back of the stage, an oversized church organ dominates, and one imagines that at any moment it will start to accompany his solid thoughts that reach melodically the ears of the fans.
I’ll start with the end of the evening, with his last sentence which encapsulates his whole mood: “If you want to say something to someone you love, say it now.” This was his answer to the final question asked by a young girl in the audience, which caught everyone off guard except for Cave himself: “Mr. Cave, is there something that you regret you never told your sons, something that could have changed their lives?“ Someone else in his position might have chosen not to answer, but he responded with the same candidness with which he also answered whether Belgian beers are the best in the world (he didn’t dare say no, of course).
I wonder what the girl’s motivation was for this awkward question. Does her young age justify her lack of empathy towards such a sensitive issue? Or did Cave’s demeanor give her a signal that he could handle this kind of question?
Indeed, it was with this impression that I left that evening, feeling that Cave now speaks from a position of acceptance of what has happened in his life, from the most sublime to the most tragic events. According to him, “in mourning, we lose ourselves but we also find ourselves. We are transformed. It’s an extraordinary journey.” As he has undertaken this journey more than once, he seems to be speaking from the perspective of someone who has managed to learn from it.
What is it that makes us want to know his views on life, death, pain, faith, and to rush to see him at a two-hour event (the tickets sold out in the first eight minutes) and read the voluminous book of his confessions?
Nick Cave’s life is characterized by great contrasts and exaggerated elements, which always attract the interest of the average person. But what I believe holds special value is his openness about the losses he experienced in recent years, having lost two sons within a span of seven years. It’s about the pain of losing a loved one, and there is no person who cannot relate to that.
According to psychologist Elisabeth Kübler-Ross, there are five stages one goes through when facing grief. The first is denial, the second is anger, the third is bargaining, the fourth is sadness or depression, and in the fifth stage comes acceptance. It is not always clear which stage a person is in at any given time, and often they overlap.
Cave gives the impression of a man who is in the stage of acceptance, at least in terms of his public image, because no one can truly know what goes on inside him once he steps off the stage.
In any case, it is only when a person reaches this stage that they can talk about their lost loved ones without sobbing; recollections are made with calmness and perhaps peace. This, of course, doesn’t mean that they don’t miss the departed, just that the pain isn’t overwhelming; it is closer to nostalgia.
For Cave, mourning coexists with love. Love is so beautiful, and that’s why loss hurts. He stated that night: “In the end, mourning is mourning, it hurts, but I felt like I was part of humanity, like any person who has lost a loved one. Death is an everyday thing, it happens all the time, we have to be able to move on. I wanted to discuss it, talk about it. To be vulnerable is to be open to the world, it’s a position of strength.”
And it aligns exactly with what we psychologists suggest in the case of loss and mourning, that the point isn’t to forget what you are mourning or to erase the pain – unfortunately, that isn’t possible. The point is to be able to move forward with your life despite the loss.
This can be achieved in different ways for everyone. Cave often shares that he found refuge in faith and religion, stating that night that “people who are grieving feel that there is something else beyond life. Until then, I did not imagine that there was anything more important than art.”
When asked if there are things he regrets, he responded: “If you had asked me before, I would have said I don’t have any. But as you grow older, you do. I regret the time I wasted injecting heroin. It’s a moral matter, how we use our lives.”
Regarding art and the myth that you need to suffer to create, he disagreed. “You can also create out of joy. I don’t like the notion that you have to suffer to create. This perception is wrong.”
He also spoke about the role of anger that is evident in his music, saying that it is something that drives him.
A young man in the audience asked him if he had any advice for anyone trying to find their identity through social media. Cave replied that when he was young, he was alone like all the other kids his age; they lived in their homes, in their rooms, without the connection that young people have today, who can contact anyone anywhere in the world. His advice for today’s youth was to explore this connection but not to conform to the mold that social media push for a certain way of life. “Because in the end, you only have yourself,” he concluded.
Cave also expressed concerns about whether progress is only good. “It is necessary, but we must bear in mind that in itself it is not a virtue.” For him, conservatism is an inspiration, as he said.
And if art is one of the ways to transform pain into creation, Cave proves it once again by revealing that he is currently working on his new album with the Bad Seeds.
In the end, he stayed to sign the open books, which were almost held aloft by his fans, reminiscent of birds flying under the stage. As is his style, he swayed from right to left as he signed. “Getting on stage is something extraordinary, I always take it very seriously. It’s a transcendent experience,” he shared.
He treats his audience with equal seriousness, expressing his honor each time they rush to see him. Even in these closing moments, he remains interactive, unafraid to connect with the people in front of him — his companions on this journey we call life.
First publication of the article: Huffington Post Greece
*The book Faith, Hope and Carnage is published by Canongate Books (2022)
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