Since the late 70s, Nick Cave has had a lengthy career as a respected musician and writer. He explores themes of death, religion, anger, mercy, and suspicion of the world and all its inhabitants. In one of his most famous songs, “The Mercy Seat,” he wrote:
“And the mercy seat is waiting
And I think my head is burning
And in a way I’m yearning
To be done with all this measuring of truth.
And an eye for an eye
And a tooth for a tooth
And anyway I told the truth
And I’m not afraid to die.”
This is a man, who alongside his bandmates, has not been afraid to go into the darkest corners of thought and question everything. Even his gentler ballad-type songs have tinges of goth, drama, and intensity.
– YouTubewww.youtube.com
In 2018 (and to this day), he began operating a newsletter called The Red Hand Files, wherein fans can send in questions about whatever they’d please: music, philosophy, love, etc.
He writes on the site how and why it all started: “The Red Hand Files began in September of 2018 as a simple idea – a place where I would answer questions from my fans. Over the years, The Red Hand Files has burst the boundaries of its original concept to become a strange exercise in communal vulnerability and transparency. Hundreds of letters come in each week, asking an extraordinarily diverse array of questions, from the playful to the profound, the deeply personal to the flat-out nutty.”
He takes these letters very seriously:
“I read them all and try my best to answer a question each week. The Red Hand Files has no moderator, and it is not monetized, and I am the only one who has access to the questions that sit patiently waiting to be answered.”
In his latest issue, Amy from Los Angeles asks Cave, “My dad died suddenly and unexpectedly. We moved and only saw him for two weeks of what turned out to be his last year on earth. Now I feel like I have failed him so terribly. How do you apologize to someone who is gone? How do you say I love you and I’m so sorry when their ears and their heart don’t exist anymore?”
Cave writes back with clarity and grace. In part, “Find a quiet spot where you can be alone and away from distractions, close your eyes, and picture your father. Then say these words, quietly or in your head –
You are my father
I am your daughter
I love you
I am sorry
You may feel uncomfortable or embarrassed when you do this because it seems from your question that you fundamentally believe that your father is gone, that his “ears and heart don’t exist anymore,” and that you are speaking to no one, nothing, a void.”
He later writes, “I suspect your father will hear your words, but I do not know. At the very least, by acknowledging the sacred and mysterious nature of things, these words will impact the general condition of the world, not to mention your own injured heart. I believe we must take our subtle spiritual intuitions seriously and view them as the quintessence that underlies the ordinary world. The rejection of the sacred is the fundamental reason for our existential discontent. “I love you” and “I am sorry” spoken into the universe are two sentiments forever worth declaring.”
In a recent appearance on The Late Show with Stephen Colbert, Cave shares one of the letters from a man in Stockholm named Valerio. He first reads the question:
“Following the last few years, I’m feeling empty and more cynical than ever. I’m losing faith in other people and I’m scared to pass these feelings onto my little son. Do you still believe in us, human beings?”
Cave then reads his response:
“Much of my early life was spent holding the world and the people in it in contempt. It was a position both seductive and indulgent. The truth is, I was young and had no idea what was coming down the line. It took a devastation to teach me the preciousness of life and the essential goodness of people. It took a devastation to reveal the precariousness of the world—of its very soul—and to understand the world was crying out for help. It took a devastation to find the idea of mortal value. And it took a devastation to find hope.”
The studio audience listens silently. Cave continues:
“Unlike cynicism, hopefulness is hard-earned. It makes demands upon us, and can also feel like the most indefensible and lonely place on earth. Hopefulness is not a neutral position. It is adversarial. It is the warrior emotion that can lay waste to cynicism. Each redemptive or loving act, as small as you like—such as reading to your little boy, or showing him a thing you love, or singing him a song, or putting on his shoes—keeps the devil down in the hole.
It says the world and its inhabitants have value and are worth defending. It says the world is worth believing in. In time, we can come to find that this is so. Love, Nick.”
This is met with a huge round of applause, as if the audience really simply needed to hear it.
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