When did you first realise you might be becoming a bit famous?
Fame is a weird one because it happens in so many stages. I remember I used to busk in Bondi Junction when I was probably nine years old, and my grandmother angrily called me one night, and said, “Mrs Trachtenberg saw you begging in Bondi Junction!” That was my first taste of fame – realising how your reputation precedes you, and that there’s accountability and misunderstanding and incomprehensible sort of stuff.
But I have to say my first proper show aged 14, when we were Noise Addict, opening for Sonic Youth at Selina’s. We weren’t announced, and we came out on stage and burst into this intro: “This is the real Sonic Youth!”
People looked at us with bewilderment. My whole career is chasing the dragon of that moment, because I grasped something about the power of being a public figure, that you were able to confuse people in such a sublime way.
Have you ever had a cringeworthy celebrity run-in?
Oh yeah, tonnes. Everyone knows Seinfeld is sort of a jerk now, but I met him when I was 18. I’d been obsessed with Seinfeld and I was completely shocked at the stone-faced, judgmental vibe that was coming from him. Now he’s famous for that, but I was just young and drunk in New York.
Also Jarvis Cocker, who is a musical hero of mine. Jake Fogelnest, Natasha Lyonne and I were watching REM from the side of the stage at the Tibetan music festival. Jarvis was there and we were obsessed with him. We were like, “Jarvis, Jarvis, come over here, come over here!” No one in America knew him then and we were all such mega fans. I couldn’t think of anything to say, so I said: “Jarvis 14-inch Cocker!” As if he never heard that before. He just looked at me like, “As if.” I was humiliated. But I think the ability to take a swing in life and fall flat on your face and embarrass yourself is a positive quality. So even those experiences, I look at them in myself as kind of endearing now.
What is the wildest thing you have ever done for love?
I remember when I was younger and on tour, me and my girlfriend had had a fight and I thought it was really heroic to cancel the next show to fly home and make it right. Now I think that’s actually demonstrating so many red flags … as if I couldn’t wait a few days for it to be resolved in person.
I also used to lie about writing a song about a crush, and then have another crush and lie and say it was about them. That’s early male singer-songwriter stuff – you do that enough times and you’re bound to get caught out eventually.
One of the songs on your new album is called Bad Luck. What is the worst luck you’ve had?
I’ve had notoriously good luck in my life, so complaining about bad luck feels very bratty, but I would say getting food poisoning from fresh orange juice. It’s such a slap in the face because you’re trying to make a conscientious decision. It was New Year’s Eve too. I stayed in and watched the Kardashians while my wife and the kids went out for a party.
What do you do when you can’t get to sleep?
We have a Real Housewives routine that eases us off to sleep. We’re still catching up – we’re on New York, season 11 – and we try and get through an ep or so before bed. I think it’s because there’s such generally low stakes but such high tension. It gives me some perspective on my life. I don’t know why, but there’s something about that which is relaxing.
What’s your most controversial pop culture opinion?
OK, I’m actually going to say something controversial and I don’t want any fallout from this. I say this with absolute admiration, but people misunderstand Nick Cave’s genius. To me, he is giving the greatest acting performance of a songwriter, rather than being the greatest songwriter. It’s not like Leonard Cohen, where the songs are the craft. Nick Cave’s craft is his performance of this literary songwriter. He’s acting and he is just astonishing. When people focus on his songwriting, it’s almost like thinking about Willy Loman in Death of a Salesman and focusing on his sales job.
It’s a very earnest role. He’s playing the literary singer-songwriter. People are really attached to this idea of authenticity. But it’s been interesting watching him as he’s been through genuine hardships and tragedies. I think, as we get more and more broken, we actually become more humble and happier as a person. That’s the impression I get [of Cave] – when I saw him live recently, he had such a gentle, generous spirit in between songs. Then he’d launch into the songs, and it was like, “Oh, the Dark Lord” – and you realise that is his chosen character. He’ll have to play it out to the end, because that’s what happens. We set up these roads for ourselves and then we’re stuck. I have total admiration for him, just in a way that’s a little bit different to that of some of my peers.
Which film scarred you for life as a kid?
A lot of ABC children’s television in the 80s scarred me for life. I have memories of some quite disturbing TV shows. I remember there was one about these bullies who went on a school hike in nature and they would squish frogs in their bare hands, and one of them bullied another kid into doing it. They cut away before the actual death but it was quite a suggestive scene.
If you had a sandwich named after you, what would be in it?
Cheese, avocado and peanut butter. I love that combination. It’s just fantastic. The bread has got to be soft. The experience should be like eating baby food. Like a ball of mush.
Who do you want to play you in a biopic?
Georgia Maq [from Camp Cope].
Would you rather die at the bottom of the ocean or out in space?
Oh my gosh. Well – in outer space, are you in the elements or are you in a capsule? What’s happening?
You’re in a capsule, and then you’ve accidentally hit a button and ejected yourself from the capsule, and you’re just floating in space. And that’s how you die.
I think I’ll go with that one. It’s so cinematic. It’d be a better ending to the biopic.
Ben Lee is touring Australia. His new album This One’s For the Old Headz is out 20 September (Weirder Together)
