03.31.01
A Rainy Day In Seattle
That Morning, to get in the mood, I put on “Two Lectures” Nick’s spoken word release which is punctuated with solo versions of a wide range of his back catalogue. West Country Girl comes on first.
“With a crooked smile and a heart-shaped face
Comes from the West country where the birds sing bass
She’s got a house-big heart where we all live
And plead and council and forgive.”
It’s angry, ugly and worn down to the shaft. Nick says “I have seen it grow and mutate with time.” It’s evolved into something new.
By the time our drive from Portland to Seattle ended, it was 6:00pm, and Amy and I went off to forage for food in the rain. It was that light Seattle rain that mostly hangs in the air waiting for you to fall on the drops, not the other way around.
We returned to the theater area and tried to meet with Leslie and the Coil fans but the Cloud Room had been closed because of over-crowding. Having never been to the Paramount Theater, I had no idea that it would hold such a large crowd. For me, Nick Cave has been packaged up in little plastic discs, or presented as pixels. He’s never had a physical presence. 8 years of listening to a ghost. Ghosts are lonely. Listening to ghosts is a lonely experience.
“Who is this?” my co-workers ask. “Nick Cave.” “Who?”
Seeing the crowds in front of the theater spooked me. I figured that it would be me, Amy and Leslie and a few people she met. About a dozen of us in a small bar sitting around listening to Nick and a few people he met.
Scalpers. There were scalpers. Like a fun house mirror, my view was mutating, warping. I couldn’t believe that Nick Cave, a plastic pixel man was having his tickets scalped. That only happens to acts that have a large enough draw to be profitable.
Walking inside, I realized just how lucky I had been. 50 rows in the theater, another 30 in the balcony. 40 seats across. 3000 people? There must be some mistake. Amy and I find our seats at the front row.
After the opening act, Neco Case, the lights begin to dim. 8 years of listening to a ghost. And then the song became flesh. Nick stepped out on to the stage, winced from the spotlight and waved. He quickly sat down with his note-stuffed copy of King Ink II and launched into West Country Girl. Heavy chords began the concert.
Clearly I had missed the other dimensions of this man. I’ve read transcripts, heard bootlegs and retyped interviews till my fingers smoked. This was something far more interesting.
Moving on, Sad Waters and Henry Lee graced the ear, soft. Then… The Mercy Seat.
Shivering goosebumps.
God Is In The House gave a much lighter touch to the concert. Wild World was unrecognizable, but Warren playing Rowland playing lead guitar was perfect along with the aggressive lighting. Papa Won’t Leave You Henry, Do You Love Me Part II blew through too fast for my poor heart to take.
No More Shall We Part followed by Stagger Lee provided ample time to look at the ornate ceiling and walls of the theater.
But then it was back into the fray with Into My Arms and Love Letter. Melodic and hypnotic.
People Ain’t No Good and Ship Song were the first encore. Of course Amy and I had been waiting for the dogs and the moral grounds.
The second encore was a quick little spin through Empty Little Boat and Nick was gone.
—
Amy waited patiently with me at the back door of the theater. An hour later, Nick and Warren came through the door, waiting for the van to be ready. He took the time to sign everyone’s materials. I had brought nothing. I simply walked up to him to shake his hand. I looked at him, that one second magnified into hours, and stuttered a ‘Thank you.’ He nodded. Amy took a few pictures.
Thanks Nick.