The brisk way that Nick Cave strode on stage at the Royal Albert Hall in his customary black suit and grabbed the microphone from its stand suggested business as usual. But it was not. His backing band The Bad Seeds were absent, bar the singer’s closest collaborator in the ensemble, Warren Ellis. And the music differed markedly from the grand gothic structures of his old songcraft.
Ellis sat on one side of the stage with an analogue synthesiser balanced on his lap, a change from the violin that he normally plays in Cave’s songs. The pair released a joint album earlier this year, Carnage. That’s the reason for their current tour. But the setlist was dominated by tracks from 2019’s Ghosteen, made with The Bad Seeds. Cave was going to tour it with the full band last year until the pandemic forced them to cancel.
Ghosteen’s tracks address the death of Cave’s teenage son Arthur in 2015, a traumatic loss that has provoked a sea change in the Australian singer’s work. Sustained electronic tones rang out, closer to mood music than structured songs. “Love’s like that, you know, it’s like a tidal flow,” he sang in “Ghosteen” while playing a grand piano. He was lit from behind, which caused a large spotlight to shine on a red drape on the other side of the auditorium, as though to illuminate the arrival of a missing guest, or ghost.
He and Ellis were accompanied by a trio of singers, T Jae Cole, Wendi Rose and Janet Ramus, and a multi-instrumentalist, Johnny Hostile, who variously played keyboards, bass and drums. Songs from Carnage had a lusher feel than those from Ghosteen. Themes of presence and absence recurred. “I always seem to be saying goodbye,” Cave sang in the title track over a slow, fever-dream accompaniment, reminiscent of an Angelo Badalamenti soundtrack.
Cave had to work hard to bring these difficult songs to life. There were misfires: “Lavender Fields” was an over-solemn hymn, verging on kitsch. But the challenge inspired a performance of the highest level from him.
The fire-and-brimstone religiosity of his older work, his “deranged preacher” persona as he once called it, was present in the way he attacked certain songs, one hand extended outwards as though testifying, the other holding the microphone. But he also sang with tenderness and vulnerability. Ferocity, feeling and showmanship were united in a towering version of Carnage’s “Hand of God” when Cave flung himself to his knees and cried the title words like a gospel mantra with the backing singers. Around him, synthesiser tones pulsed like a vast force field, a protection from harm cast over a rapt concert hall.
★★★★☆
Tour continues, nickcave.com
Nick Cave and Warren Ellis — a performance of the highest level at the Royal Albert Hall
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