Nick Cave walks into a bar. Well, not literally, but his voice does. From the very first second those bells toll and that sinister, walking bassline kicks in, you aren't in your living room anymore. You’re in Small Heath. You can practically smell the soot, the cheap gin, and the horse manure. It's rare for a song to become so synonymous with a piece of television that the two are basically inseparable, but Red Right Hand, the Peaky Blinders theme tune, managed to do exactly that over six brutal seasons.
Honestly, it shouldn't have worked on paper. You have a show set in 1919 Birmingham, a world of flat caps and industrial revolution grime, paired with a swamp-rock track recorded in 1994 by an Australian post-punk icon. It’s a total anachronism. Yet, the moment Cillian Murphy’s Tommy Shelby walked down that street on a black horse, the song felt like it had been written specifically for his soul.
The Origin of the Red Right Hand
Most people don't realize that Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds didn't write this for the show. Not even close. It originally appeared on their album Let Love In, nearly two decades before Steven Knight brought the Shelby family to our screens. The song itself is a masterpiece of dread. It’s loosely inspired by John Milton’s Paradise Lost, specifically a line about God’s "red right hand" striking down the rebellious.
In the context of the show, that hand belongs to Tommy. Or maybe it belongs to the devil he's constantly dancing with.
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The track is dense. It’s got this eerie organ part played by Mick Harvey that sounds like it’s weeping, and then there’s that "ding" of the bell. That bell wasn't a high-tech studio effect; it was actually a modified oxygen tank they struck to get that specific, haunting resonance. It creates a rhythmic tension that mirrors the ticking clock of a gang war.
Why the Peaky Blinders Theme Tune Kept Changing
One of the coolest things about the Peaky Blinders theme tune is that the producers didn't just play the same MP3 for ten years. They treated the song like a living organism. As the Shelbys climbed the social ladder—moving from gambling dens to mansions and eventually the halls of Parliament—the music evolved to reflect their decaying morality.
We’ve heard so many versions. There was the PJ Harvey cover in Season 2, which brought a raw, feminine jaggedness to the world. It felt intimate and terrifying at the same time. Then you had Arctic Monkeys delivering a version that sounded like it was recorded in a smoke-filled basement.
Iggy Pop and Jarvis Cocker even teamed up for a rendition that was pure, unadulterated grit.
By the time the final seasons rolled around, the song was often deconstructed. Sometimes we only got a few notes of the melody, or a slowed-down, orchestral breath of it. It’s a brilliant bit of branding. The showrunners understood that the audience's brain is wired to respond to those specific intervals. You don't need the whole song to feel the threat; you just need that vibe.
The Milton Connection and the Lyrics
If you actually sit down and read the lyrics of the Peaky Blinders theme tune, it’s a character study of a manipulator. "He's a ghost, he's a god, he's a man, he's a ghost." That’s Tommy Shelby in a nutshell. He’s a veteran of the tunnels in WWI, a man who "died" in the mud and came back as something else.
The song talks about a "tall handsome man" in a "dusty black coat." It warns that he'll wrap you in his arms and tell you that you've been a good boy. It’s about the seductive nature of power. This is why the song works better than a traditional period-accurate folk song would have. It captures the feeling of the era's violence rather than just the history of it.
Music supervisor Antony Genn has spoken about how they tried other tracks in the early stages. Nothing stuck. Everything else felt too "period drama" or too "Hollywood." They needed something that felt like a punch to the throat. Cave provided the brass knuckles.
Impact on the "Peaky" Aesthetic
The song did more than just open the show; it dictated the entire sonic palette. Because the theme was so modern and moody, it gave the creators permission to use Radiohead, David Bowie, and The White Stripes.
Bowie was actually a massive fan of the show. He sent a photo of himself in a flat cap with razor blades to Cillian Murphy. He even made sure they got his music for the third season before he passed away. That’s the legacy of this theme tune—it turned a BBC drama into a global cultural phenomenon that musicians desperately wanted to be a part of.
Common Misconceptions
People often think the song is about a specific killer or a literal demon. While the lyrics are dark, Nick Cave has often been ambiguous about the "man" in the song. Some interpret it as a critique of capitalism—the man who fills your pockets but steals your soul.
Others think it’s purely about the inescapable nature of fate. In the world of the Peaky Blinders, fate is usually a bullet or a noose.
Another common mistake? Thinking the show used the album version every time. If you listen closely, the edits are often custom-tailored to the scene. The "bell" might be moved to hit exactly when a character looks at the camera. It’s surgical.
How to Capture that Sound
If you’re a musician trying to replicate that Peaky Blinders theme tune energy, you have to look at the gear. It isn't about clean, pretty sounds.
- The Bass: Use a hollow-body bass if you can. You want that "thump" that sounds like it's coming from a wooden floorboard.
- The Organ: A Farfisa or a Vox Continental style organ is key. It needs to sound slightly "off," like a carnival that stayed in town too long.
- The Percussion: Don't just use a standard snare. Add metallic hits. Think anvils, pipes, or heavy chains.
Moving Beyond the Theme
The legacy of the song has reached a point where Nick Cave himself has joked about how it's become more famous than him. You can’t walk through a pub in Birmingham or London without hearing it at least once a night. It’s become a shorthand for "cool, dangerous, and British."
But the real genius is how the show eventually let go of it. In the final episodes, the music shifted toward the haunting, minimalist work of Anna Calvi. It showed that while the "Red Right Hand" got them to the top, the end of the journey was much quieter and more tragic.
To truly understand the impact, you have to look at how it changed TV. Before Peaky, shows were often scared of using contemporary music in historical settings. Now? Everyone’s doing it. But nobody does it like the original.
Step-by-Step: Exploring the Peaky Soundscape
To dive deeper into why this music works, follow this listening path to see the evolution of the show's identity:
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- Listen to the original 1994 version of "Red Right Hand" by Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds. Notice the shaker and the weird sound effects in the background that get lost in the TV edit.
- Compare the PJ Harvey version (Season 2). Watch for how the tempo slows down, making the threat feel more psychological than physical.
- Check out the Season 5 "Dread" atmosphere. Listen to how Anna Calvi uses "Scared-Out" or her own covers to bridge the gap between Cave’s rock and the show’s increasingly operatic stakes.
- Analyze the lyrics alongside Milton’s Paradise Lost. Specifically Book II. You'll see exactly where the "Red Right Hand" imagery comes from and why it fits a man like Tommy Shelby, who views himself as a fallen angel of sorts.
The Peaky Blinders theme tune isn't just a song. It's a warning. It tells you exactly what kind of show you're watching: one where the hero is the villain, and the music is the only thing honest enough to tell you the truth.