Nick Cave, the prodigal son of the Melbourne punk rock scene, is back in town, coincidentally, the day after a two-night tribute to Cave’s former bandmate and fellow St Kilda narcotic punk rock icon, Rowland S Howard.
Cave and the Bad Seeds open proceedings with a selection of tracks from Cave’s latest record, Push the Sky Away. Despite the chart-topping success of the record – surely, one of the music industry’s perverse ironies – the album hasn’t generated the salivating interest from Cave’s hardest core fans. We No Who U R, Wide Lovely Eyes and Water’s Edge are better live than on record, but it’s Jubilee Street that heralds the first genuinely mesmeric moment.
Cave is the gothic punk stick insect, skipping across stage with mature abandon, his arms flailing like a preacher possessed by the spirits of yore. Warren Ellis is a blaze of manic energy, swapping from violin to keyboards to his latter-day trademark mini Telecaster. On Cave’s right, Ed Kuepper is typically enigmatic: while notionally a contemporary of Cave, his Lutheran rock’n’roll discipline contrasts with Cave’s more fire-and-brimstone style.
On bass Martin Casey carves out a rock solid bottom end sound; on Casey’s left percussionist Jim Sclavunos is as wild as his fellow rhythm section member is enigmatic. The perennially cool Barry Adamson has made a welcome return to the fold, almost 30 years after involvement in the prototypical Bad Seeds.
The Melbourne Symphony Orchestra sits behind Kuepper to fill out the already rich sonic aesthetic; on the opposite side of the stage stand children from Gardenvale Primary School, somehow avoiding the omnipresent threat of cheesiness that comes interposing a children’s choir onto rock music.
With the new material showcased, Cave moves into his version of a greatest hits set. Red Right Hand is all sparse percussive moments and cataclysmic finale; The Ship Song is warm and tender. The crowd sings along with gusto to the locally-inspired Deanna, followed immediately by the emphatic gospel blues of Papa Won’t Leave You Henry.
The first part of the set concludes with the cathartic Mercy Seat, as Cave leads his band of Bad Seeds through an apocalyptic music event, each verse delivered with more gusto and religious fervour. The band returns for an initial encore of the romantic Into My Arms and the sociopathic folklore of Stagger Lee. After a short break – presumably, just enough to allow the smoking members to imbibe a cigarette – the group returns to chart a course down to the depths of rural Tennessee in Tupelo. Nick Cave never fails to please.
BY PATRICK EMERY
LOVED: The climax of The Mercy Seat.
HATED: Metro Train’s tardy scheduling.
DRANK: Cans of Boag’s Draught.
