Album offers fusion of despair, humor

By Jeremy Rea
Staff Writer

Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds have always worked to create a sound as indescribable as possible, allowing words such as pop, jazz and blues to be applicable, yet not quite fitting. The result has earned them both critical fame and a cult following eagerly waiting for more, and after a four-year absence from the studio, Cave returns with "No More Shall We Part."

Cave's first album since 1997's "The Boatman's Call" (excluding 1998's "The Best of...") finds him in a familiar position; that is, eternally ready to crawl out of his own skin.

After nearly 50 years, Cave is still torn by the three themes that have dominated his work since he first appeared fronting The Birthday Party — love, loss and God. And while his wisdom and understanding of the world have grown, so equally have his fear and sadness.

As with 1996's "Murder Ballads," the songs are all caught out of time, taking place now, but having also taken place years ago, much like Cave himself — he perpetually appears to be both 22 and 90 years old.

Though thematically "No More Shall We Part" treads familiar territory, it does so with a vigor missing from Cave his past few years. "The Boatman's Call" was musically sparse, primarily Cave alone at the piano or organ and had the subtle feel of conclusion. The follow-up release of a greatest hits album seemed to signal the end of a career, which makes "No More" all the more an unexpected and surprising offering.

The incarnation of The Bad Seeds resurface strongly after staying largely silent on "The Boatman's Call," particularly Warren Ellis (of Dirty Three) on violin.

Along with lush string arrangements by Mick Harvey and Ellis and touching backing vocals by folk singers Kate and Anna McGarrigle, "No More" finds Cave once more shaking his fist defiantly at just about everything.

Epic can easily be used to describe half the songs on the album, as no opportunity for a rising passion or sweeping crescendo is missed, and most of the songs extend beyond six minutes. This is a good thing.

Cave is restlessly passionate with the woman he loves ("As I Sat Sadly by Her Side"), painfully alone without her ("Love Letter"), ready to abandon God and yet waiting for him to tear the roof from the world ("God is in the House").

A vein of humor streams throughout the album — hearing Cave's voice ebb to a whisper on "God is in the House" is poignantly funny, as is his sly croon, "It's late, but it ain't never," on "Sweetheart Come." But there isn't a hint of irony as Cave bleeds his black-coffee voice equally into lines such as "Be mindful of the prayers you send / Pray hard, but pray with care" and "I passed a cow, and the cow was brown."

It's unlikely Cave's fans would be happy to find him at ease with himself or the world, and judging from "No More Shall We Part," that doesn't seem likely anytime soon.

 

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