Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds
The Boatman's Call

THE REVIEW

Evening is about to arrive once again, another day has passed. The light fades but at the same time it strengthens, it asserts itself. The sunset is like a final and powerful statement of one who does not want to pass, of one who knows they must die and then rise again with the same strength, the same intensity: light is its symbol. A figure can be seen, indistinctly, standing on the tower of their solitude; their face seems young, incredulous and lost, their dark dress is touched only by a few reflections of this evening light that like their soul affirms the power of pain in the face of death. Around them the desert; this arid land of Judea, infinite like their question and their hope. At a certain point, the figure lowers their head, seems to look down beneath them; their attitude is not of searching but of reflection, of meditation. They have made a choice, followed a guide, loved, learned, doubted and once again loved. Now their guide is dead, killed, left in indifference, in derision, in the triumph of those who hated without reason. Faith wavers, petty and indifferent humanity takes over. Before coming here to take refuge, the woman renounced her guide: in front of the world she concealed her choices; she rejected, she doubted, she betrayed that part of herself which once gave her the strength to resist, to live and to survive. Pain brings despair, doubt, dismay: inside herself the woman still feels the piercing, blinding sun of the afternoon; she still feels in her eyes His gaze, the strength and dignity of eyes that will fade for a holy and innocent death.

However, a question keeps repeating inside her: where are You, my guide, my path? Why have men triumphed over you? She is looking for a sign; everything that has happened is just the product of a tired imagination, a dream, You are here with us and we will continue to try to model our life on yours.

From up here I see my land, the sky; they have taught us that everything is a sign of your power. Up here I have come to take refuge from pain and death. Doubt grips me: where are you my Lord? Do you really exist or is everything just a product of my mind?

I have renounced you because my doubt has become fear and the fear panic: men seemed stronger than you.

Now I look to the earth because I do not dare look to the sky; it would be like facing your gaze again. This sky envelops me but does not suffocate me. Yes, I am restless, emptied, but I do not intend to fail my choices; I will not go back: I have renounced you, perhaps I will renounce you again if the fear of loneliness and the inability to do without men becomes stronger than the faithfulness to our pact. I will continue my journey wondering if this sky, this sunset and those that will come like these are not the signs I am seeking, the signs of Your existence, of what You yourself have told us: after the sunset and death, resurrection and life.

Thank you Nick