STACK October 2016 Issue 144

94 / 125

visit
12 OCTOBER 2016
MUSIC FEATURE
One More
Time With
Feeling
Words Chris Murray
With equal measures excitement, guilty curiosity
and white-hot anticipation, Nick Cave fans'
anxiety on what’s next from our Dark Lord has never
been this palpable.
To release a film instead of deal with the probing
media vultures; the absolute trust in friend and peer,
director Andrew Dominik, has paid off in spades. You
have never seen anything like this visceral document
on the inner self and you probably never will.
Predominantly shot in hand-held black & white,
in 3D no less, the director’s ability to pull focus on
a surreal dream, a confusing fog of consciousness
within an artist’s tragedy, the resultant and extremely
risky treatment here is startlingly original, candid,
heartbreaking and life-affirming all at once. The
unflinching approach taken at tackling the most
repulsive of subject matter – the death of ones own
flesh and blood – is pure and unaffected. You have
never seen Cave be so bare, so vulnerable and fragile
yet all the while remain dignified with a hands-in-the-
air honesty at his incomprehensible state of being.
You’ll understand the better-than-friends
bond between him and Warren Ellis, his love and
companionship with wife Susie (whom we love too,
instantly) and you’ll feel your heart bend when you
witness the family unit huddle, ignoring the cameras
and hangers-on, and ultimately understand that inside
that artist, author, songwriter and towering figure
within multiple generations of adoring fans lies a
human being – terrified of exactly the same things we
are. Nick Cave, however, has the gift of articulation
and engagement to extend the journey into ethereal,
iconoclastic legend.
Skeleton Tree
Words John Ferguson
G iven the tragic
circumstances leading
up to Skeleton Tree’s
recording, it was always
going to be a dark affair. But
no one anticipated just how
haunting and emotionally
harrowing Nick Cave and the
Bad Seeds’ studio album
was going to be. A raw and
mournful examination of
loss, grief and heartbreak set
against a minimalist sonic
backdrop, Skeleton Tree is
undoubtedly up there with
the very best records of
Cave’s career.
In some ways the
spookiest thing about it is
that, by all accounts, most
of the songs were actually
completed before the
accident that claimed the life
of his teenage son Arthur,
which adds an extra layer of
unease into the proceedings.
Take for example, the
opening song Jesus Alone:
with lines like “Flowers
spring from the ground/
Lambs burst from the
wombs of their mothers”,
we’re in familiar Cave biblical
territory, yet the song begins
with the line “You fell from
the sky” and ends with
“With my voice, I’m calling
you”, which would seem
to relate directly to the loss
of his child. Or I Need You,
which on one level could be
about the devastating end
to a relationship (“Nothing
really matters, nothing really
matters when the one you
love is gone”) but is sung by
Cave with in such a wavering
voice that you can’t but help
see it as a weary howl of
grief. Elsewhere, the rich
stream of consciousness of
his wordplay is frequently
undercut by a painful
memory (“You kneel, lace
up his shoes, your little
blue-eyed boy” from Girl In
Amber) or a blunt statement
of fact (“All the things
we love… we lose” from
Anthrocene).
The sense of
disorientation is further
heightened by the music.
Although there are some
lovely melodies and choruses
– Distant Sky, which features
the pure, striking tones of
Danish soprano Elses Torp,
is a gorgeously sad lullaby –
the backing consists mainly
of eerie electronic drones
and hazy soundscapes,
which perfectly capture the
despair and bewilderment of
the artist’s predicament.
There are flashes of
humour and hope, and
the closing title track finds
Cave crooning – albeit
unconvincingly – “and it's
alright now.” However, you
are still left with the feeling
that things will never be the
same again.
No one anticipated
just how haunting
and emotionally
harrowing Nick
Cave and the Bad
Seeds’ studio album
was going to be
and the bad seeds