CARLING ACADEMY, GLASGOWFOLLOWING last year's tenure in stripped-down blues quartet sideline Grinderman, Nick Cave was primed for a return to the full hootin'-and-hollerin' two-drumkits experience of a Bad Seeds gig, arriving o
n stage with a showman kick.
His new album Dig!!! Lazarus, Dig!!!, with its excess of exclamation marks and biblical soap operas, transferred with gusto to the live arena. Its funky fire-and-brimstone sermonising was complemented by the torrid likes of Tupelo, one of the Bad Seeds' earliest tracks, and the rollicking Deanna.
Some provision was made for the intimate, romantic interludes of The Ship Song and Into My Arms, but the set tipped in favour of the noir desperado storytelling of Red Right Hand and the encore selections of Wanted Man and Stagger Lee.
Cave was a powerhouse throughout. While that is never a surprise, it is always a delight. As he gets older, he seems more and more comfortable in the role of entertainer, and was in particularly flirtatious form at the Academy.
He didn't hog all the attention though. The wonderful male harmony chorus that is the Bad Seeds are a magnetic bunch in their own right. Warren Ellis almost stole the show during droll state-of-the-planet diatribe We Call Upon the Author, crouched on the floor at his keyboard, contorting himself to reach the microphone like some hirsute yoga guru, but even he could not compete with Cave's mock operatics on The Lyre of Orpheus. The man is invincible.
The full article contains 265 words and appears in The Scotsman newspaper.
