Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds - "Dig!!! Lazarus Dig!!!" (Anti Records 2008)

Throughout his career Nick Cave has deftly dodged any fan or media attempts to pigeon hole his music. Any time it appears that he’s settled into a consistent sound he changes gears and keeps us guessing at his true motivations and from where he’s drawing specific inspiration. From the aural assault of his earliest work with The Bad Seeds to the much mellower, more melodic piano ballads that came later and many other approaches in between, he’s always pulled it off to some degree and left a long list of sometimes relatively mediocre, sometimes stunningly brilliant records in his formidable wake. With Dig!!! Lazarus Dig!!! Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds have done it again.

Utterly unlike anything they’ve produced before, much of Dig!!! Lazarus Dig!!! sounds like it could have been included on one of the Nuggets collections of 60’s garage rock, including healthy doses of underground and even mainstream offerings from the same musical era. Trading piano and strings for distorted guitar and grinding Hammond organ there is a whole lot more straight up rock ‘n’ roll here than Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds have ever seemed interested in exploring.

The title track, which kicks off the record, gives immediate notice that things aren’t going to be the same. The song grooves, chunking dancily along behind a semi-spoken word vocal that’s lyrical story is strongly reminiscent of the Velvet Underground era Lou Reed. “Today’s Lesson” hits you next, and this is really where the 60’s garage band vibe kicks in – you can almost picture the band filmed in Technicolor, wearing psychedelic clothing, Cave himself bobbing his head and slapping a tambourine. “Albert Goes West” is a slab of raw power, with the music dropping down to emphasize the vocal on the chorus, only to kick back in with background vocal “ooohs” and “aaahs” and finally a “sha-la-la-la” outro. Very 1960’s.

The garage/underground element isn’t the whole story. Both “Night of the Lotus Eaters” and “Midnight Man” have a Doors thing going on, with the former taking on their more experimental side and the latter the more mainstream. The main difference being, of course, that Jim Morrison was an arrogant, narcissistic hack while Nick Cave is an actual writer. Not to mention the fact that The Bad Seeds are a much better band.

Speaking of writers, much is being made of “We Call Upon the Author”, musically something that could only come from the mind of a contemporary Nick Cave, as a humorous exercise in self-reflexivity. While I agree that there is certainly an element of this, especially in the verses so obviously about himself, it seems to me to be more of an indictment of fans and critics demanding of artists more that they’re willing or should be expected to give, be it in explaining their work or providing details of their personal life. It’s no secret that this has been a source of irritation for Cave throughout his career.

There are also moments that evoke the same feel as The Lyre of Orpheus, particularly with the return of strings and piano on “Jesus of the Moon”. Clumped toward the end of the album, these songs seem placed to reassure Nick Cave purists, at least those of his more recent work, that they haven’t been forgotten.

Dig!!! Lazarus Dig!!! closes with “More News From Nowhere”, an easy going jaunt that brings Warren Zevon immediately to mind and eases the listener out of a decidedly unpredictable experience.

While thrusting its influences into your face more than any previous Cave record, it’s that unpredictability that, in spite of this, makes Dig!!! Lazarus Dig!!! a quintessential Nick Cave album. While there may be less sonic darkness and disturbing imagery than we may have come to expect it’s still there, and there is a quality to Cave’s songwriting, style, and lyricism that no amount of tinkering with the type of delivery is going to obscure. Not only is it a quintessentially Nick Cave record, it’s very change in direction and unpredictability make it a great one.

As an afterthought, this record certainly seems to place the Grinderman release into a kind of context – Dig!!! Lazarus Dig!!! to me gives it the feel of an out-take collection. Nothing wrong with that.

4 out of 4 Bad Seeds

Grinderman - "Grinderman" (Mute Reords 2007)

At some point I'm going to move away from records by or inspired by Nick Cave. Honest. But not now.

Grinderman was born when Nick Cave and Bad Seeds members Warren Ellis, Martyn P. Casey, and Jim Sclavunos retired to Misère studio in Paris for a Bad Seeds songwriting session. Whether or not any progress was made on future Bad Seeds songs remains up for speculation, but what is certain is that some mighty powerful work was done, the result being the songs that constitute Grinderman's eponymously titled debut (The Bad Seeds record Dig! Lazarus, Dig! releases on March 3rd, 2008).

This is the best work Cave has produced in years, and I mean no slight whatsoever on Abbatoir Blues/Lyre of Orpheus (2004), Nocturama (2003), or No More Shall We Part (2001). It's just that this record hearkens back to an earlier incarnation of Nick Cave, one in which straight up rock 'n' roll (albeit very avant-garde) played a larger part while at the same time toning down the relentless darkness and angst that characterized those years. That's not to say it's entirely absent - this is Nick Cave we're talking about - but there's an element of whimsy here that I've never perceived in his music before. And, not surprisingly, he incorporates it well.

A good example is the song that seems to be getting the most attention from this release, "No Pussy Blues". It's a hysterical piece about the extreme lengths the narrating chacter goes to get the object of his attention in the sack, only to be told repeatedly "she doesn't want to". While amusing, the lyric, in combination with the driving fuzz bass, creates an urgent sense of tension establishing just how badly this guy has to have this girl. The release arrives in loud, wah-wah drenched fuzz guitar instrumental breaks in which our protagonist's frustrations boil over. It's a masterfully put together song that, while recognizably a Cave composition, displays a fresh perspective on his songwriting.

You get some more moments that, while not necessarily surprising per se, are certainly a departure from the rest of Cave's recent body of work. There's the blues driven fuzz rock of "Depth Charge Ethel" that contains one of the hookiest guitar riffs to come from Cave's direction in a long time. "Go Tell The Women" is a twisted, loungey number reminiscent of Tom Waits' Swordfishtrombones era, right down to a Marc Ribot-esque guitar part. Lyrics like "We are scientists, We do genetics, We leave religion, To the psychos and fanatics" woven into this audial ensemble makes the track indispensible, as well as an immediate Nick Cave classic.

While the departures are a refreshing diversion, there's plenty here to satisfy those Nick Cave fans perfectly content for things to remain as they are. Several tracks are immediately reminiscent of The Bad Seeds, even going so far as to having distinctly Blixa Bargeld reminiscent guitar runs (Bargeld is not listed in the credits, but it's not beyond the realm of possibility he showed up for some of these sessions). "Honey Bee (Let's Fly To Mars)" sonically has unmistakable overtones of The Birthday Party, albeit toned down and with conspicuously non-Birthday Party style lyrics. The record closes with "Love Bomb"- in many ways the most standard Cave offering on the record. While the music is more straight up rock than we're accustomed to hearing from Cave, it's overlaid with his signature semi-spoken Southern Baptist preacher possessed by demons vocal style. And friends, he's lost nothing over the years in assaulting you with that kind of delivery.

Grinderman has been widely compared to The Birthday Party and, while there certainly are elements of that here, I think that the comparison is selling the record as a whole short. The bile that Cave was spewing back then is only vaguely present in an offstage kind of manner, the music is not as determinedly anarchic, and the tone The Birthday Party set is, quite frankly, missing entirely. Methinks there may have been a tad bit of wishful thinking on the part of those making such comparisons.

I would say instead that this is an example of a gracefully aging iconic musician and songwriter proving to the world that he can still kick out some badass rock 'n' roll if he's so inclined. While containing inevitable elements of both, it's not The Birthday Party and it's not The Bad Seeds. It's Grinderman, and taken simply on its own merits it's one beautiful monster of a record.

Rating: 4 out of 4

Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds - "The Road to God Knows Where" (DVD - Mute Films 2005)

The first thing you should know is this is not a concert film. It does, however, come packaged with a live performance on another disc - Live at The Paradiso - which alone is worth the purchase price. However, as anyone who's seen Nick Cave and The Bad Seeds live will tell you, it's something you've just got to see for yourself. Even on video. The Road to God Knows Where provides an entirely different, if no less interesting, perspective.

Filmed during The Bad Seeds North American tour over February and March of 1989, The Road to God Knows Where should be required viewing not only for fans of Nick Cave, but anyone interested in pursuing a career on the creative side of the music business. The pacing is slow and can seem at times to be tedious, which easily could have been deliberate on the part of filmmaker Uli Schueppel. Peppered with brief live moments, only the beginning or end of sets or songs for a large part of the movie, in combination with long intervals back stage, on the tour bus, in hotels, etc., the film provides about as realistic as possible capture of what it's like to be on tour in a rock 'n' roll band. Especially a misunderstood one skirting the fringes of success.

This isn't as apparent in the first half of the film. Cave is admittedly uncomfortable in front of cameras and his self-consciousness, along with that of the rest of the band, is apparent. It leads to some unintentional moments of comedy - Blixa Bargeld trying to pretend he knows the words and can sing along to "Lost Highway" as Cave strums and sings is pretty funny stuff considering Bargeld's musical pedigree. Primarily, though, it sticks to the soul breakingly monotonous nuts and bolts of touring - long bus rides, sound checks, waiting backstage, photo shoots, sycophantic fans, and pushy music writers. The focus is on the bands' attempts to find something, anything, to pass the time and keep it together. They do this admirably, at least while the cameras are rolling, but as things wear on and nerves start to fray the self-consciousness fades away. Things start to get really interesting.

While the band doesn't turn on each other, their frustrations emerge in almost cartoonishly exaggerated reactions to the pitfalls they encounter. This may be film trickery - Scheuppel dropping us into the middle of an altercation and not providing the context - but it certainly seems like the altercations covered went from zero to sixty almost immediately. The standouts involve promoters who were clearly not expecting a professional touring outfit to show up and had either not read the contract or willfully ignored important details.

The first is more drawn out and involves a promoter who did not, ahem, provide the agreed upon promotion. The venue is close to selling out - a development the promoter obviously thought was not remotely possible - and the band is insisting on more money versus refusing to play at all. Cave stalks off in the middle of the argument leaving Bargeld, rather unfairly, to carry on the fight. The resolution is not mentioned, but the band does play.

The second covers an explosive confrontation over the size and wattage of the venue's sound system. The contract specifications for sound have not been met and soundman Victor Van Vugt, tour manager Rayner Jesson, and Cave are facing off with the promoter over the inadequate system. The promoter ignorantly puts his foot in it saying, "This system was fine for Flock of Seagulls!", which leads to Cave again stalking off after a declaration that the band won't play if the contract isn't met. Almost immediately the promoter puts his foot in it again when he makes a derogatory reference about Cave, "that other guy", to Jesson. "Our boss," replies Jesson, "The man you signed the contract with." We're once again not privy to whatever settlement is reached, but the band does play.

In addition to these standout blow-ups, you see Cave and the rest becoming increasingly glassy eyed and distant in their interactions with anyone outside the group. There's a subtly tense backstage conversation between Jesson and Cave in which the tour manager seems to be suggesting that they cancel most of the rest of the tour. Cave's frustration with press people boils over with a writer and photographer from L.A. Weekly, towards whom he directs open eye-rolling hostility. The sense of relief at dealing with a promoter they know in San Francisco is palpable.

Schueppel shot this film in fairly high contrast black and white which, given the stark winter landscape through which the band is traveling, works well. It's not quite as effective when the band reaches Los Angeles, but that hardly ruins things.

As the film progresses and tensions mount the live performances become longer and more pervasive. This change cleverly provides the release for all the tension, both with the band and the viewers. Right before launching into "New Morning", the last performance of the film, Cave announces, "This is the last song of our North American tour. Thank God for that." After the ride just taken with him, one can easily relate.

Rating: 3.5 out of 4

Woven Hand - "Mosaic" (Glitterhouse 2006)

David Eugene Edwards is perhaps the most iconoclastic musician working in popular music today. 16 Horsepower, his previous project, began as an alt.country exploration of Appalachian folk and country with Edwards' use of dramatic, heavily Christian themed lyrics lending it an air of authenticity lacking in most other bands mining the same vein then or since. By Secret South, the bands third record, Edwards had taken the band in a more experimental direction, and the lackluster Folklore, 16 Horsepower's final release, half-heartedly continued this trend. The disappointment of Folklore can likely be attributed to the fact that, by the time the album was being recorded, Edwards was pouring his creative energy into Woven Hand (16 Horsepower is the only band I've heard of citing "political and religious differences" as the reason for their breakup). In spite of giving the impression that there's a functioning band at work Woven Hand is, quite simply, what Edwards is calling his solo work (all I know about the provenance of the name is that it's a really obscure Bible reference - you'll have to look elsewhere for chapter and verse). Working as a solo artist has given Edwards the freedom to more deeply explore experimental song structures and instrumentation and deep, heavily Christian themes of sin and redemption.

With each release Woven Hand has strayed farther and farther from Edwards' unerring pop sensibility and into experimental realms, pulling influences from Middle Eastern, American Indian, and Eastern European musical instrumentation and structures (among others less prevalent). His dark vision of the sinful path, reflected in the music and lyrics, and humanity's one and only source of redemption has become more and more apparent and increasingly fundamentalist in spite of his use of arcane biblical references to spin his tales. So much so that it can make a committedly non-religious person like myself uncomfortable.

Mosaic, Woven Hand's fourth release, builds on this trend and takes Edward's music farther afield than any release yet. From the ominous, sparse instrumental opener "Breathing Bull", which seamlessly transitions into the heavily Middle Eastern influenced Bible beater "Winter Shaker", you know you've entered David Eugene Edwards' universe and you're in for a soul tempering wild ride. These songs eschew any traditional song structures for the most part and focus on mood and intensity, both of which are unbelievably heavy. The mood is almost relentlessly dark, focusing on sin and the failure to abide God's word. The lyrics always mention the path to redemption in some form or other but also stress the fact that, in this vision, anyway, the way is so hard it's damn near impossible to follow without constant, severe diligence and unquestioning faith.

The instrumentation on this record includes, and I'm guessing on some of these, guitar, banjo, piano, violin, organ, bass, standard drums, tympani drums, guiro, sorna, chemnitzer concertina, and, I'm pretty sure, didgeridoo. The tympani, concertina and didgeridoo maintain a constant low end drone on almost every track, lending the songs the ominous quality that has almost become signature for Edwards work. The guitar, where it appears, serves as both a rhythm and melody instrument - especially apparent on "Truly Golden", one of the more accessible songs on the record. The organ serves a similar purpose, alternately contributing to the ominous background wall and serving as a cathedral like melody instrument. Violin and sorna are reserved for song melody and contribute heavily, along with much of the percussion, to the pervasive Middle Eastern feel of the record.

Relief from the overwhelming Christian thematics appears in "Swedish Purse", which lyrically suggests it is a love song to Edwards' wife. Don't let the fact that it's a love song lead you to believe that you get a break from the overall sonic darkness - that remains heavy as hell (no pun intended). There is a break from the doom laden musical bent in "Bible and Bird" - a loping, country/folk instrumental in a standard 4/4 time signature. As this is the only song with musicians other than Edwards credited it makes a kind of sense that it would be the most traditionally structured piece - good luck to the most experienced musician trying to follow the logic of almost any other song on the record.

I'd be remiss if I didn't mention production. Edwards is credited as producer (as he has been on every Woven Hand release) and his production is, as you have probably gathered, a dark, dense, wall of sound with very little open range. While this would be too much for many recordings it works pretty effectively considering what Edward is communicating here and often places the songs in a geographic context.

Mosaic is not a good starter album for the casual listener - hard-core fans only and those drawn to the esoteric (and perhaps some world music afficianados) will appreciate what's going on here. A good place to begin with Edwards is any of the first three 16 Horsepower records (Sackcloth & Ashes, Low Estate, and Secret South) or even the eponymously titled first Woven Hand record will do - Edwards natural ability with pop structures and hooks married to relatively unusual instrumentation will give you a good foundation from which to continue.

As a long-time and devoted fan I think this record is a knock-out. Edwards is without a doubt one of the most creative and unusual musicians out there, and the farther out he goes the more I seem to like it. The allure of the music and the poetic nature of the lyrics is strong enough to shield me from the discomfort of the heavy-handed Christian thematics. I'll venture to say the same will be true for the majority of listeners. It helps that I respect Edwards' beliefs even if I don't agree with them.

Edwards is an admitted fan of Nick Cave (as am I) and the similarities still show through his experimentation. I would say he's the light in response to Nick Cave's darkness, but there's plenty of darkness here. Let's say instead that, while Cave's songs are almost universally existential and hopeless, Edwards provides his listeners with at least a single strand of hope. I'll leave it up to you to decide which is better.

Rating: 4 out of 4