Nick Cave’s lengthy conversation with Sean O’Hagan reveals the artist’s radical transformation after the loss of his son Arthur.

I discovered Nick Cave when I was 16, listening to Tender Prey and The Good Son vinyl records over and over on a turntable. Very soon I had the opportunity to see him live in concert, and since then several more followed, until I distanced myself for several years and finally returned, enjoying one of his last and most idiosyncratic albums, Ghosteen, on repeat. My teenage self was mesmerized by the dynamism, lyricism and intimidating energy of the singer. At some stages on stage, the Australian looked like some kind of soapy preacher. From heart-rending melodies, he jumped like a demon to frantic repetitive rhythms and chilling drawings. Cave knew how to play with the emotions of his listeners. His music invited you to experience a wild and strange universe. I didn’t always agree with all of his choices. It was impossible for me, for example, to listen to his first band Birthday Party, just as it was impossible to listen to a duet with Kylie Minogue. But even his conversation with the Old Testament cannot say that he always worried me.

Without a doubt, the turning point in Nick Cave’s life was the death of his 15-year-old son Arthur.

Nick Cave is a living legend, but also a very special artist of his time. He created an interesting personality and served her faithfully for decades. He became an alternative rock star, much loved in our country. In the book “Faith, Hope and Pain” (translated by Vasya Tsanakari, published by Keidarit), we hear about the transformation of the Cave. The image of the rebellious dandy, the doomed poet fades, and in its place there is a portrait of a 65-year-old man who constantly jokes about his dyed hair and speaks wisely about life, God and death. Without a doubt, the turning point in Cave’s life was the death of his 15-year-old son Arthur. The man who was once viciously beaten on stage finds refuge in God today. He visits churches, prays, meditates, reads the Bible over and over again. This is his purgatory, along with hard work. At the same time, he discovers pottery and dabbles in public confessions on his blog, The Red Hand Files.

His long interview with the Hagan speaks eloquently of this transformation. Narcissus turns into a humble servant and asks for forgiveness of sins. The text of the confession is especially touching even for those who have never heard his music. There are times when you just want to stop and hug a friend in misfortune. The pages exude pain and sincere regret. Those of us who have grown up listening to his songs find here a strong ally to continue on the path to coming to terms with the suffering and paradoxes of this world. The songwriter went to hell and back. The news it brings is harsh, but not unprecedented. There is still a lot of beauty ahead for us to discover. Now Cave does not need drugs and debauchery. He’s peeled an onion and knows what’s behind every attempt to control the world. He obeys his instinct and writes lyrics that speak to the horse. He speaks excitedly because he realized that many of the great mysteries of being are hidden there: in his work. Where nothing helps, science, technology, organized religion, the path of art shines. An artist is like a priest, except that he does not convert. He prays to save himself, as we all do, and along the way, those who identify with him sympathize with him, giving him strength. The artist is not a messiah to be followed.

When Cave was twelve years old, his father asked him what contribution he had made to the world. What should a twelve-year-old child answer this question? So he asked his father what he had done for the world, and he proudly showed him a short story he had published in a magazine when he was young. “It’s just a weird selfishness of a creative person,” says Cave, adding, “If my twelve-year-old son asked me what I did to give something to the world, I hope I would ruffle his hair and say: I made you, little “”. To an outside observer it is obvious what is going on here. The son desperately tries to get his father’s attention, but is very frustrated and cannot give it to him. The son undertakes to maximally and in every possible way creatively realize the unfulfilled dream of his father, while attracting his attention. Bingo! One move achieves two goals. The son grows up and becomes a father himself. His path is not clear. He resisted heroin with all his might, he is already an established rock star. When he loses his child, he understands the trauma and doesn’t want to perpetuate it, so he tries to overthrow. From a message, art becomes a medium, a means of self-healing. And the prodigal son returns – always transformed – with wonderful news in his luggage.