For their 10th album – and follow-up to the cheery Murder Ballads – Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds explored more redemptive qualities. Originally released in 1997, gone were the menacing, troubled tunes of yore; instead, here was a selection of graceful, minimal, melancholic numbers that saw Cave reflect on spirituality, loves past and present, and almost atoning for past indiscretions. These are your actual songs of faith and devotion, and by Cave’s own admission his most personal album to date.
The opener is a modern-day classic. Into My Arms is a love song so perfect you wonder why any other composition of its kind bothers to go up against a ballad that all others should rightfully refer to as ‘Sir’. Cave opens his heart from the outset, the song beginning with the stunning line of "I don't believe in an interventionist God / But I know, darling, that you do". It’s such a gorgeous song that Peaches Geldof even has its lyrics tattooed on her (but don’t let that put you off). It’s also the only Bad Seeds tune you’re likely to hear at a wedding.
His brief dalliance with Polly Harvey, whom he became infatuated with after their Henry Lee duet on Murder Ballads, is referenced on Green Eyes, Black Hair and the more direct West Country Girl. Comparisons with Dylan and – more on the money – Leonard Cohen are no bad things either. The religious motifs of Brompton Oratory, an album highlight, and There Is a Kingdom lend an air of a man coming to terms with his place in the world, with subtle churchy murmurs over drum machines. The Bad Seeds themselves play a blinder, with gentle and sympathetic elegance throughout.
It’s an audacious task trying to pin down the core essentials in The Bad Seeds’ catalogue, as there’s so much of it, but The Boatman’s Call would be labelled a classic in anyone’s canon. No band on their 10th album should have much more to say, but taking this turn for the reflective helped reignite The Bad Seeds and further secured their legacy. It is, in short, brilliant.
"I would say that Nick Cave is the greatest artist of my generation. I saw The Birthday Party about ten times and they only lasted a few years. I was lucky. I went to see them opening for Bauhaus, by accident. They blew Bauhaus away. I was like, ""What the fuck is this?"" There was this man in a vicar's dog collar, slapping the front row with a bible and a bass player wearing an Australian corked hat. They were fucked – they were more fucked than Iggy and I had given up looking for people more fucked than Iggy.
I think The Birthday Party were the only band where Nick Cave was matched by other characters as big as he was. The Bad Seeds are a great band but Tracy Pew and Rowland Howard matched Nick Cave, which takes some doing. I was so lucky to have seen that band. I followed them around and saw them degenerate due to heroin abuse.
Then, I watched Cave's transition into The Bad Seeds and I still thought he was a fascinating human being. I could have put The Birthday Party's second album, Prayers On Fire, on this list, but it is pretty unlistenable for most people. I chose The Boatman's Call because it was the first time he allowed himself to get really vulnerable through his love songs. I think it is a masterpiece and shows the breadth of his talent. There are five or six love songs on that record that are as good as Leonard Cohen's. It is a remarkable record.
I have met him a number of times. Once, I pretended to be a journalist and interviewed him. He was probably still strung out on heroin and we nearly got into a fight. He threatened me and I didn't back down. A few weeks later, he found out who I was and then slagged off James in the NME. It didn't make me love him any less. It was just who he was at the time. I think he is still very damaged and hurt from his dealings with the press. He's been through the Amy Winehouse/Pete Doherty thing, where the press are sitting like vultures, waiting for him to die. I can imagine that he has coloured his view of journalism.
I had a dream about Nick Cave on the night I got married, in which he told me his secret, magical voodoo name. I have never had the opportunity to tell him what his secret, magical voodoo name is, but I hope to one day. I guess that Nick Cave may hate James, but I don't care. I recognise his genius and I love him and wish him well."
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds
(Artist/Musician)
