A piece of terrific music criticism encourages me to challenge my my notions of what I thought i knew. Just a day or so after posting the Nick Cave, PJ video I came across Anwyn Crawford's excellent essay on Cave, his misogynist tendencies and the Criterattie's acceptance of it, a sweeping under the blanket in the name of 'art'. I don't follow Anwyn one hundred percent of the time, for instance I think comparing Cave to Iggy Pop and lumping them together in the same category is a bit of a leap I'm not ready to take, however she makes thoughtful and well written arguments about what is considered 'art' and what is considered 'excessive violence.' As has been the conversation of the past week in papers and blogs in regards to the Casey Affleck, Jessica Alba film, The Killer Inside Me, based on the book of the same name. One could argue that Cave is story telling, crafting a persona from which to sing, but then, what exactly is a movie, if not a well crafted- hopefully- story? When does art cross the line?
The thing that struck me most about the essay was the simple fact that Crawford takes on such an iconic, beloved figure as Cave to begin with. An 'artist' I never thought to question. I too, have always grouped him together with Tom Waits and the like, an 'artist' for whom no bad is done. But why? Is it because he is 'strange'? It's a good read and I have to admit I felt accused at certain points, and that's great! Truly, wonderfully effective writing. It moved me, as they say. I won't say however I bought the cow completely and it's now gleefully grazing in my yard, but I tasted the cheese.
That's sort of gross, huh? Aw well, you get the point. Here's the link.
click meee!
