Knickers, Nick.

What a far cry it is from the early performing days of the revered Mr Nicholas Cave, (when his promoters pleaded unsuccessfully with the shocking but influential COUNTDOWN TV show, for a chart-enabling appearance)
that now he just seems to be everywhere.
At one stage, a Boys Next Door ligger had actually become the editor at the Australian Women’s Weekly, that bastion of median media-ness, and I truly expected to see a cover story on him.
I have been vindicated in my own opinion, by reading the brave James Valentine One-Trick Nick, which says
'Nick Worshippers grew up and became rock critics and festival directors and magazine people and anytime they could they got Nick a gig.
If Nick brought out a recording it was always five stars. If Nick wrote a film, it was incredible. Would Nick mind if we set a ballet to his music? Could Nick curate something for us, write a forward, could he sculpt something?
Then we can write about it, and put Nick on the cover of our magazine and show once again how cool we are, because we get Nick Cave'.
Overland magazine published The Monarch Of Middlebrow by Anwyn Crawford who says it all for me, better than I could myself:
'it is largely this ubiquity that makes me despise Cave and his work now with the passion that perhaps only a former fan can muster. I can still listen to The Birthday Party and find Cave’s sordid fantasies of woman-pie, kewpie dolls and six-inch gold blades stuck ‘in the head of a girl’ exhilarating and disturbing in equal measure. It hasn’t taken fifteen years for Cave’s misogyny to dawn on me, but at least in 1981 no-one was trying to cover over his sexual obsessions with the tasteful drapery of redeemed Christian, reformed addict, doting father and national icon'.
At Crikey.com's design blog the discussion was about clothes, one pair of very tight blood-red knickers you saw above. These were photographed by ex-Melbourne-Punk-Scenester, now as world famous as Annie Leibovitz - Polly Borland,
in tight close-up at the very seam of their reason for existing, and
as a result, censored by eebay (the hypocrites who bank secretively in Suisse).

Despite the eloquent opinion of Sophie Cunningham –
'The image takes the old adage that sex sells though that, in itself, isn’t the problem to my mind. What I’m not keen on is that it’s an incredibly passive and vulnerable image that invites imagined violation and is a bit of a ‘fuck you’ to women who want to buy the book. I’d also note that it gets tiresome that in the old ’sex sells’ line, it’s usually women’s body’s who do the selling, and disembodied bits of them at that' ...
being printed right there on Crikey for all commentors to read, my pal Bwca Brownie was flamed for daring to suggest Emperor Cave wears as little as the poor bloodied Bunny.

Recently at a bloggers house I saw his Leonard Cohen DVD documentary where N.E.Cave is asked for his opinion (see? he is everywhere) and mentions being impressed that a girl in his country home town had a Cohen album (this must have been prior to 1976 and she probably bought the LP mail-order from where I worked at Dr.Pepper's Records in Collins Street.) and that it had influenced him for life.
I thought at the time The Real Story is That Girl In Warracknabeal.

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Blogger sarah toa said...

Love that line "at the very seam of their reason for existing..."
Nice bit of myth busting too.

March 16, 2011  

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