Nick Cave

"Another Nick Cave masterpiece. Where does this magical genius keep appearing from?" - reads the top Google Review for 'Wild God', the latest album from Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds.

Over the last decade Nick Cave has shifted his 'Prince of Darkness' image into something calmer; something which is determined not only to recognise but to loudly exclaim the value and the beauty in the world. Fair enough. Since this shift, which arguably begins at Push the Sky Away (2013), universal acclaim has followed Cave at every step. He has shifted from a price to a God.

Although admittedly the musical style of his recent years wouldn't be my personal go-to, it's hard to objectively dismiss some of the acclaim. However the almost unanimous 5 star reviews for Wild God has made me question what exactly is happening here.

Fans of Cave's 'older music' tend to be glibly dismissed in their critiques, both by the media and by Cave himself, as simply objecting because it is no longer lyrically dark, or because of a lack of drums or guitar. There is of course some truth to this; as with all artists, a change in musical direction will always leave a proportion of fans mildly disgruntled. But to willfully ignore what many of these fans are actually saying, is unfair, irritating and not particularly intelligent.

The commonly held notion that Cave's lyrics in the last decade are superior to his prior body of work is nothing short of ridiculous, regardless of where they land on the positivity scale. Have people actually bothered to listen to the older stuff? Profound lyrics of beauty and positivity are on display throughout The Boatmans Call and The Lyre of Orpheus / Abattoir Blues (a lot of it is slow and atmospheric too). Fans weren't complaining then - something else must have changed. And I think the main issue, despite what I keep constantly seeing, is the quality of the lyrics.

Wild God is an album of 10 songs, in which me manages to utter the word 'God' 19 times in total. 'Love' can be heard 17 times, followed by 'beautiful' 14. 'Spirit' and 'Horses' come in at 9 and 8 respectively. Man needs a thesaurus.

Obviously it is silly to judge an album by the number of times a particular word is said. So let's instead look at the actual lyrics on show. Here are some of my favourite worst lyrics from Wild God:

"All the kings horses and all the kings men couldn't put us back together again"

"A wild God searching for a faraway girl, who was basically a mirage, but nevertheless loomed large"

"Moving like a great big beautiful bird"

"All across the world they shout bad words. They shout angry words."

"After that nothing ever really hurt again. Nothing ever hurt, not even ordinary pain."

"I told my friends some things were good"

"I said we should not hurt one another, still we hurt one another"

 "She rises in advance of her panties"

And just a quick shout out to my favourite worst pieces of imagery -

"A ghost in giant sneakers"

"The rabbits have put carrots in their ears"

What exactly goes through reviewers minds when they hear these lyrics and then proceed to deem it a masterpiece? It is very Keystage 3. Cave's newfound world perspective isn't why these lyrics are bad. The content isn't the problem, the execution is. Perhaps they are hypnotised by the increasingly disturbing siren calls of Warren Ellis.

(Sidenote - Some positives from the album - Long Dark Night from is a genuinely good song. Frogs is decent enough. The single Wild God is good in parts of the final half. As the Waters Cover the Sea is forgettable but nothing noticeably bad in there so I'll give it that.)

The NME review ranked the song O wow O Wow (How Wonderful She Is) alongside into my arms. An opening line contest between "I don't believe in an interventionist God" and "She rises in advance of her panties". Interesting claim.

A couple of years ago I wrote a parody Nick Cave song, which based on the lyrical drop off of Wild God, I now believe to be too good to parody. Here is the song:

Once upon a time the Gods & the Kings circled the divine table in its glorious despair and in its longing,

Ordinary and brown, it bears no grudges against us now.

The mothers blow their kisses and disappear into the night.

I am but a road.

The magnificent horses wait weary on the edge of the shore with their glistening eyes stained in pale memories,

Anytime soon now. 

But who knows of what the mountain speaks?

Who knows?

Who knows? (Whispered) 

Bridget, black hair, stumbles across the beautiful grass,

Blades of emerald shimmering in the sun,

There is no need to be alone now.

Her child dreams of salutations.

We are here, wide open, exposed and laid bare for all those carnivorous cunts to devour and shame us,

Her mothers voice crashes through the wind and lays a gentle kiss upon her cheek.

Cold, so cold.

My sweet beautiful darling.

The horses remain shackled to their cages,

Oh Lord,

And the flakes of snow they gather in their wonder.

They are for you, my sweetheart.

The beautiful horses lick their manes and the snow melts dimly into the river,

Predictable in all its dominance.

With everything out of reach we danced through the forest, full of love.

Bridget cradled in her mothers dying arms.

We cannot fear, we cannot speak and we cannot exist anymore.

My sweet beautiful darling. 

I am here,

And I love you.

"Where does this genius appear from?" More like where has it gone.