Can I just very quickly point you towards some music. It's the end of the work day (part one) and I've spent most of it thinking about bus tickets to NYC and the incredible ATP Festival line-up in the Catskills of all places (Shecky Green opening for My Bloody Valentine!) and generally being antsy. It's my own fault, I wore very mismatched patterns and it's tweaking me out.
The two things that have been calming me down are the new Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds album, Dig, Lazarus, Dig and the Fuck Buttons' Street Horrsing. First of all, I should admit I am not a lifelong fan of Mr. Cave. Mostly, I have been glad Nick Cave is out there being Nick Cave so I don't have to. Not that I could. But the last album with the Bad Seeds, which sported one good title, Abattoir Blues and one unforgivable title, The Lyre of Orpheus (I mean, come the fuck on) snuck its way into my regular listening rotation, borne largely on the back of "Cannibal's Hymn", which is heartbreakingly perfect, and by the time Mr. Cave wandered into the middle of The Assassination of Jesse James wearing a mustache that could shelter a small village through the rainy season, I was saying to myself, "Hey, this guy no longer seems like he might eat a baby for laughs." Follow that up with the Grinderman album, which might not eat a baby for laughs, but don't go handing your babies off to it just yet, and I'd swung around to being vocally pro-Cave.
This album knocked it down. I am getting Nick Cave's face tattooed over my face. Or at least his mustache. Cave settles into the creepy preacher vibe he's toyed with throughout his career and with the Bad Seeds (now with the Dirty Three's Warren Ellis firmly at the helm) locked in behind him, delivers dark, hilarious monologues that make the political seem irrelevant. When Nick Cave sees a problem, he skips write past the government and writes angry letters to God. In the same way certain Dylan songs can grab you by the throat and shake you with nothing more than a verse-verse-verse structure, Cave's lyrics are jaw-droppingly good, the urge to go back and hear a line again overwhelmed only by the need to hear what's next.
On the total other end of things are the Fuck Buttons, who have I think been getting a fair amount of press or at least a big gooey one from Pitchfork. Normally, the 'forkers choices in electrodrone leave me pretty cold, but this one gets it right. Some of the satanic screaming noises I could do without, but the tracks that don't sound like an exorcism in process are perfect examples of how repetition can be emotive. "Sweet Love for Planet Earth" with darkles and tincts with guitars (can anyone tell me where that phrase is from? it's been stuck in my head for half an hour) like the beginning of the best Explosions on the Sky tracks, but holds back the bombast. Imagine being at the planetarium, but the guy manning the show is so baked he abandons all the comets and big bang nonsense to just watch things flicker. "Bright Tomorrow" surges forward on a pushbeat that would be at home in 90s house music but manages to never feel rushed.
If you're feeling sinister (or not sinister enough), check out the new Nick. If you're feeling drony (which I am, I think due to a lack of vitamin B?), a couple FB tracks are pretty sweet evening wear.
All right, off to NYC for the weekend to see Misters Thomas and Kupstas in their performing capacities. If you're in the area: Goodbye Blue Monday, 8pm Sunday night. Awesomeness. Now I'm wondering if I can fit the new episode of Lost onto my crappy little iPod.
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2 comments:
Loves me some Nick Cave, too.
I saw him in a cheesy bar in Philly, back in 1994 (when he was touring with Lollapallooza).
He was drinking a margarita out of a stupid glass.
I still have utmost respect for him, especially the irony of the situtaion.
I kind of like believing that everything Nick Cave does is part of some elaborate joke with the punchline surgically removed.
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