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Town Hall, New York March 31, 2001 By C. Bottomley There are two certainties in Nick Cave's world: love and death. The former is usually in the shape of a raven-haired West Country girl underneath cherry blossoms. The latter is inevitably violent, and often involves said raven-haired West Country girl. God, it seems, is in the details. Opening up this solo show by nearly pounding his grand piano into pieces on, um, "West Country Girl," Cave was ready for both, spitting at the end, "I hate that song!" The front row cowered and prayed thunder wasn't in the forecast. Although writers looking for an easy gloss sometimes paint him as the bastard son of William Faulkner and a gargoyle, away from the Bad Seeds' operatic backing Cave showed a flair for subtlety. And while his last album, The Boatman's Call, was an attempt to get old beau P.J. Harvey out from under his clammy skin, Cave's forthcoming No More Shall We Part sees a cold smirk return to his lips. Appropriately, the clouds part to herald a blood-red sunrise. But just listen to how he modulates his rich baritone and you'll hear how often he slips in and out of character. On "God Is in the House," the benighted Cave takes on the coo of a church lady whose community builds its picket fences atop Elysian fields. And on the title track, the narrator luxuriates in finally having a head of black hair he can call his own resting on his pillow - and a neck was still attached, as well. Cave was backed for this show by bassist Susan Stenger, Dirty Three drummer Jim White, and Warren Ellis' squealing fiddle. The quartet only built up the Sturm und Drang that his regular backing band the Bad Seeds are known for on the triptych of "The Mercy Seat," the Mississippi Hieronymus Bosch of "Papa Won't Leave You Henry," and "Wild World," a song revived from his years with Australian havoc-mongers the Birthday Party. White replaced the Bad Seeds' rhythmic locomotion with Shakespearean tapping, and acrobatic Ellis did plenty of dramatic pirouetting and sawing, but all eyes were on Cave, sucking a cigarette and screwing up that impressive forehead to commune with his damned cast. There was the death row inmate of "Mercy Seat" seeing Jesus' face in his soup; the hen-pecked killer who promises to trade 50 women for the rump of one fat boy in "Stagger Lee"; and even Cave himself, who in Bible-bashing romantic mode crooned the classic opening line, "I don't believe in an interventionist God." It was too much for his congregation, divided between those who cried out requests, those who screamed for others to shut up, and those who just wanted to whoop in joy as Cave delivered his lines with the can't-miss surety of Jerry Lee Lewis and a thirty-ought-six. He ended the show roaring in the same frustration with which he began. Stumbling through "Little Empty Boat," a poem whose lines were just out of his memory's reach, he ended with the couplet, "Give to God what belongs to God and give the rest to me/ You can go f*ck yourselves, it's time for me to leave," before dragging his Heep-like angularity back into the wings. He's welcome back to flap his soot over pop's candy floss anytime. |
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