Nick Cave part 2

The other day I was rattling on about our old mustached friend Nick Cave, well I had no idea we had an artist talk at uni today.
Iain Forsyth and Jane Pollard do what they call "live art" which I guess is performance or video art with a leaning towards a live music feel. Amongst other things they got a Smiths tribute band to play in the Institute of Contemporary art.

At the end of the talk they mentioned that they made all the videos for Dig, Lazarus, Dig!!. What a coincidence! I was a bit in awe, I'm kinda glad I was sat on my own.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7kV5XkBQsKU
They're also producing documentaries to coincide with the re-release of a lot of the Bad Seeds back catalouge.
It's always kinda weird to see other people doing things you wish you were doing. Oh well!

They also did something on the Jesus and Mary Chain. Excellent!

Nick Cave

Lest this turn into another music blog, I shall only write about (musical)artists who inspire my art, or general outlook on life.

 

I remember Cave from being quite young, especially red right hand but it's only since I saw the Bad Seeds last year that I actually listened to him in my own time (rather than on my parents' stereo, or in the car). 

It seems the older I get, the more morbid my outlook gets, as a Smiths fan from a young age that's a given, but Cave has somthing much darker and more fascinating than Morrissey's love life...

 

Weirdly though, listening to Dig, Lazarus, Dig!! now, in my university bedroom, it sounds totally different from how I remember it in my mum's car on all those car journeys, and also different from the way I remember him performing it live. I guess this is all linked back to memory and how we choose to remember things in a certain way.

Well this relates back to my practice (that's the poncey way we're supposed to talk about our art). The fact that certain songs remind you of a point in your life is pretty obvious.
Klaxons remind me of being 17 and thinking MDMA is probably really cool- but they also remind me of the old Manchester Academy, where I lost my pink shoes at their gig.
Place seems much more interesting than people's own memories which are always rather self absorbed, but place is all-encompassing. Millions of people can inhabit the same place yet have completely different experiences of it.
I've lost what I was trying to say. But in a year or three, I wonder if the Boatman's Call will remind me of this perennially smelly bedroom, or simply evoke memories of being a miserable 20-year old...