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Rating:
What Cave has left behind in the past is no small matter.
To many, it still seems as if they see him disheveled, out of breath, and with anxiety animating his voice, vampire-like skin, cigarette burns and holes everywhere, eyes overflowing with heroin. The problem is that now that bad boy is no more. With or without heroin. I, too, still struggle to recognize him. On the other hand, what do you expect to imagine from someone who spent more than an hour shouting bursts of depraved symbolism into a piezometric microphone under the influence of who-knows-how-many hectoliters of sweet drugs, only to see him two decades later dueting with Kylie Minogue?
I know the answer is as ambiguous as the path he has chosen to take, but this introduction is meant to be reflective, an intro equipped with non-pathos specifically chosen for those like me who remember those catacomb-like live performances between Berlin and London (which I never could admire live, but which marked me significantly even when viewed in atemporal replay). How can one forget Tracy Pew, with his less than bright eyes, his dull cheeks, Mick Harvey, his disarmingly justified thinness due to terrifyingly piercing feedback… how? I look at the Birthday Party and the Bad Seeds as they were, and I'm scared by the idea that spirits like that will never have a place again. But not out of visceral fanaticism, rather, only out of nostalgia. Reminiscences of an attitude never again proposed with such sincerity and haphazardness that seemingly could make Cave appear as a poor desperate soul, but which in the darkness of his paraphrases allowed a hint of an almost maniacal dedication, an extreme pursuit of perfectionism heightened to such an extent that when finished it resonated as a nerve-wracking overload of undeniable charm, and never reproduced.
The Birthday Party are no more, and as far as I'm concerned, the Bad Seeds never gave enough impetus to reach their heydays. When one cycle ends, another is proposed, destined to be as fleeting as it is doomed to sink.
"Grinderman" is a work that makes me realize several things, first of all, the desire to create a clear division between the BS and what was previously expressed; secondly, and nothing could be more innovative when talking about Nick Cave, our man has matured, but not from a compositional point of view, rather to a point that even in the past would not have been recognized in him. The voice of Cave in the work I am about to describe is that of a man who has "been through ordeals," and now does nothing but reflect upon them in a mirror to contemplate them with the bases that best suited him, especially at the start of his extraordinary career as an artist and man: those of blues. If in the Seeds the awkward movement with which the notes came to life allowed for broader fields of judgment and greater cataloging difficulty, with "Grinderman" one comes face to face with a grey-aged portrait determined to admit it. Proof of the willingness to return with some more (or fewer?) grey hairs to the initial blues, is the explicit presence of Jim Scalvunos from the Cramps on drums, Warren Ellis from the Dirty Three on guitar, and as if that weren't enough, Martyn Casey from the Triffids on bass. These three additional elements to Cave's warm and deep voice only add more solemnity towards what is a past that can hardly take shape again but that nevertheless leaves one incredulous and stunned.
The album takes on discontinuous shapes endlessly:
-it starts with "Get It On" and one believes to deal with an endless monologue pleasantly torn by a guitar on the brink of groove, some piano touches and desert-like rattles;
-"No Pussy Blues" is instead a pagan reproduction of some "Stooges-like" symptom which, when attributed to Cave, makes the game more fun and worthy of a "Blues without pussy" (?);
-noteworthy is the splendid double track "Electric Alice/Grinderman" which with a mystical demeanor can release epidermic radiations capable of giving more than one sensation, and for its tones, reminds one of the saintly Leonard Cohen, an effect that changes color inseminating into the Siamese "Grinderman" which (allow me to say) I believe to be the only true gem of the album, simple, communicative, and filled with both poetry and aesthetics.
The remaining songs instead have a feeling of sudden hiccup devoted to Bad Seeds therapy (I refer in particular to "Decoration Day", "Love Bomb" and "Man On The Moon".
Ultimately, the grinder-man presents an encephalogram with interesting developments, simple but sought-after sounds, and a very important thing for me, capable of reminding us of the artist Nick Cave, guilty of seamlessly blending with musical personalities, by no means similar to him. An "operetta" that nevertheless manages to make it clear what one must be to still have the ability, and the desire, to face oneself without coming off as hypocritical, pathetic, or worse, expired (and consequently inferior).
The sincerity that populates this album is disarming, much more incisive than other past works and the heavy criticisms it has already been subjected to. I pray that you see its content with a detached approach, because in my opinion, this is another Nick Cave, and it's not right to be rude to someone who has died and then resurrected.
With sincerity (mine, this time), it is truly a pleasure to see you still standing, continue this way Mr. Cave, keep it up..
Tracklist Lyrics Samples and Videos
02 No Pussy Blues (04:20)
My face is finished, my body's gone.
And I can't help but think standin' up here in all this applause and gazin' down at all the young and the beautiful,
With their questioning eyes,
That I must above all things love myself,
That I must above all things love myself,
That I must above all things love myself,
I saw a girl in the crowd,
I ran over I shouted out,
I asked if I could take her out,
But she said that she didn't want to.
I changed the sheets on my bed,
I combed the hairs across my head,
I sucked in my gut and still she said
That she just didn't want to.
I read her Eliot, read her Yeats,
I tried my best to stay up late,
I fixed the hinges on her gate,
But still she just never wanted to.
I bought her a dozen snow-white doves,
I did her dishes in rubber gloves,
I called her Honeybee, I called her Love,
But she just still didn't want to. She just never wants to.
Damn!
I sent her every type of flower,
I played her guitar by the hour,
I patted her revolting little chihuahua,
But still she just didn't want to.
I wrote a song with a hundred lines,
I picked a bunch of dandelions,
I walked her through the trembling pines,
But she just even then didn't want to. She just never wants to.
I thought I'd try another tack,
I drank a litre of cognac,
I threw her down upon her back,
But she just laughed and said that she just didn't want to.
I thought I'd have another go,
I called her mah little ho,
I felt like Marcel Marceau
must feel when she said that she just never wanted to. She just didn't want to.
I got the no pussy blues.
I got the no pussy blues.
I got the no pussy blues.
Damn! Damn!
No pussy blues.
I got the no pussy blues
I got the no pussy blues.
I got the no pussy blues.
Yeah! Yeah!
03 Electric Alice (03:15)
Don’t the stars look good tonight
Thought Electric Alice
In the pale moonlight
Don’t the moon look big and bright
Thought Electric Alice
In the pale moonlight
I think I hear a baby cry
Thought Electric Alice as she passed by
Makes me feel like I’m a little child again
Thought Electric Alice in the silver rain
05 Depth Charge Ethel (03:47)
I entered the room and the canned laughter
Ethel was angled across some dude’s knee
I offered to clothe her to feed and to bath her
If she’d just give me a little exclusivity
Depth Charge Ethel is something special
Yeah Depth Charge Ethel is special to me
Ethel is a woman that a river runs through
She is famous throughout the land
People come and bathe in her, yeah, you know, I do
But lately its been getting right out of hand
Yeah Depth Charge Ethel is something special
Yeah Depth Charge Ethel is something special to me
To kiss Ethel is like drinking the stars
To not kiss her can make you come unglued
So if you want a piece of her you better get in there fast
Right now there is a ticket box and a queue
Depth Charge Ethel is something special
Depth Charge Ethel is something special to me
Depth Charge Ethel thinks we should all just take a chance
We should all love one another, it could be special
I’m in the back of a taxicab with ants in my pants
(I can’t sit still) I know there gonna send me
Depth Charge Ethel is something special
She’s something special she’s heavy metal
06 Go Tell the Women (03:24)
We done our thing
We have evolved
We’re up on our hind legs
The problems solved
We are artists
We are mathematicians
Some of us hold extremely high positions
But we are tired
We hardly breathing
And we’re free
Go tell the women that we’re leaving
We’re sick and tired
Of all this self-serving grieving
All we wanted was a little consensual rape in the afternoon
And maybe a bit more in the evening
We are scientists
We do genetics
We leave religion
To the psychos and fanatics
But we are tired
We got nothing to believe in
We are lost
Go tell the women that we’re leaving
We done our thing
We’re hip to the sound
Of six billion people
Going down
We are magicians
We are deceiving
We’re free and we’re lost
Go tell the women that we’re leaving
Hey hey come on back now to the fray
Hey hey come on back now to the fray
07 (I Don't Need You to) Set Me Free (04:06)
I saw you walking down on the street
I called out from my window but you didn’t hear me
I lay down and I tried to sleep
I waited for you to walk on by again
I don’t need you to set me free
I don’t want you to set me free
Well every time I see you I get sick
And every time I think of you I get sick
And every time I dream of you I get sick
And every time I cry for you I get sick
I don’t want you to set me free
I don’t need you to set me free
I don’t want you to set me free
I don’t just need you to set me free
I don’t want you to set me free
I just need you to set me free
Alright!! Set me free!
08 Honey Bee (Let's Fly to Mars) (03:18)
1234
Mad mullahs and dirty bombs
Alert the coasal command
Ack-ack positions everyone
She’s my honey bee and here she comes
Cancer rabies sars
Hairy beards and hurtling stars
Won’t somebody touch me?
Won’t somebody touch me?
Honey bee lets fly to Mars
Buzz buszz buzz
There’s a kid laying on the lawn
His neighbours on the telephone
The dispatcher asks “What’s going on?”
“Please Sir, what’s going on?”
The kid is laying on the lawn
He’s been giving me shit for years
He rides his bike across my lawn
Now he’s laying on the lawn
Won’t somebody touch me?
O someone please touch me!
Honey bee lets fly to Mars
Buzz buzz buzz Ba baba ba ba ba Wo!
Ba ba ba ba ba ba ba!
Scud missiles Asian flu
The easily offended
We are the undefended
We are the undefended
Won’t somebody touch us
There’s a virus come to town
Won’t somebody give me a kiss
He’s been giving me shit for years
Honey bee lets fly to Mars
Buzz Buzz buzz buzz buzz
Honey bee Honey bee!
09 Man in the Moon (02:10)
My daddy was an astronaut
That’s what I was often taught
My daddy went away to soon
Now he’s living on the moon
Hang on to me people we’re going down
Down among the fishes in an absence of sound
It’s the presence of distance and it’s floating in time
It’s lack and it’s longing and it’s not very kind
Sitting here scratching in this rented room
Scratching and atapping to the man in the moon
About all the things that l’ve been taught
My daddy was an astronaut
11 Love Bomb (04:26)
C’mon
I read the book from back to front
It made a deep impression
Twenty thousand pages baby
I hoped for some direction
I stood before the mirror
I stared at my reflection
I’d almost disappeared
And I made no impression
I went down to my baby’s house
And I sat down on the step
Said 2000 yrs of Christian history baby
And you aint learned to love me yet
My baby looked me in the eye
My nails were bitten to the quick
She said you used to love me all night long
But you’ve gotten so thin and sick
I’m gonna send you a love bomb
I’m gonna send you a love bomb
I read that book from back to front
Looking for some inspiration
I’d been listening to the radio
Trying to find some self expression
I been listening to the woman’s hour
I been listening to Gardeners Question Time
But every thing I try to grow
I can’t even grow a dandilion
I’ve been watching the MTV
I’ve been watching the BBC
And I’ve been searching on the Internet
And I’m getting so thin and sick
I’m gonna send you a love bomb
I’m gonna send you a love bomb
I went to my baby’s house
And I sat down on the step
Yeah I went down to my baby’s house
And I lay down on the step
She said what are you doing here
I said I been trying to make some sense
But every action that I take
Is of absolutely no consequence
My baby said you can sit there
She reached down with her fingers
Her fingers went right through me
(I screamed my head off)
I was so thin and sick
I’m gonna send you a love bomb
I’m gonna send you a love bomb
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Other reviews
By Lesto BANG
"Grinderman is one of the rock-nastiest things my bare, bleeding ears have experienced in the past 2 years."
"The guitar is a quartered ox harpooned to the hook, and the cleaver is its pick."
By Elfatossica
The return of a unique and inimitable character. Of someone who uses words as sharp blades and the voice as a nostalgic and restless organ.
Grinderman is a breath of fresh air, of a new energy that manages to express itself in every track.
By RitaLeen
Have you ever heard a more sterile sound in Cave’s productions?
I felt betrayed by Nick Cave, and I still think he caught a bit of senile daze.
