Each project Nick Cave undertakes begins with a blank slate. Starting from nothing, and with huge exertion of will, something – some remarkable thing – emerges. 2019’s ‘Ghosteen’ was – even amongst a catalogue of splendour – an exceptionally special record, one whose viscous-thin atmosphere contained an almost unbearable fragility. A meditation on loss and perseverance, it split fans on its release, but has come to be regarded as a singular artefact by a unique group of musicians.
‘Wild God’ is faced with the task of following this. In short: it rivals the emotional pull of ‘Ghosteen’ but uses a more muscular palette; long-time Bad Seeds fans will swoon at the industrial heft some of these songs employ. It’s a familiar clanking sound – perhaps more in-tune with those spiritual live shows – but it works within new themes: beauty and truth as an act of confrontation.
As its core, ‘Wild God’ is a wonderful cycle of songwriting that contains some of finest lines Nick Cave has ever inked. It’s also a series of interlocking parts somehow becoming greater than the whole, a swirling vortex of sound held together by emotional commitment.
‘Song Of The Lake’ is a wonderful opener, the bright vivacious nature of its introduction containing an almost Flaming Lips style luminescence. Mystical in nature, it grapples with truths just out of corporeal reach. Title song ‘Wild God’ is perhaps more in line with established Nick Cave motifs but it’s no less inspired; ‘Frogs’ takes this a step further, even harking back to Jubilee Street in the lyrics.
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Once known as a poet of the gutter with a pen devoted to the darker side of life, Nick Cave utilises ‘Wild God’ to express something with a shade less cynicism, and touch more purity. Amid the subtle horns of ‘Joy’ he’s able to reach to toward the better angels of our nature, while ‘Conversion’ touches on some of the themes of religiosity that has recurred in his interviews and writing.
‘Cinnamon Horses’ is a wonderful, Scott Walker-esque piece of music, symphonic while also feeling tethered to the pop ideal. It’s not all colossal arrangements and fancy flourishes, however – ‘Long Dark Night’ might be the best piano torch song Cave has penned since ‘Into My Arms’, soulful in the best possible way.
Kept to a succinct 10 tracks, literally every song here is laden with splendour. ‘O Wow O Wow (How Wonderful She Is)’ glows with love; ‘Final Rescue Attempt’ is gorgeous, while the wonderful multi-faceted closer ‘As The Waters Cover The Sea’ is a tour de force, showcasing every single aspect of the album’s many strengths.
Once, Nick Cave was a raving Southern preacher, his paint-stripping vocals tearing apart the stubborn misplaced values placed upon us by authorities. ‘Wild God’ is part of his ongoing transition – disgust has gone, and in its place beauty grows. There’s a quiet, steady faith apparent in ‘Wild God’, a simple wonder that feels unique in modern songwriting, a beatific glow that lingers after the final lights have been switched off.
9/10
Words: Robin Murray
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