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Rating: The second work by Nick Cave brings back the author in all his malicious and apocalyptic charge. Compared to the previous work, "From Her To Eternity," "The Firstborn Is Dead" presents a more linear musical form without losing elements of cursing, morbidity, and ancestral and primitive ritualism.
Probably the work where the influence of blues is most marked, a genre reinterpreted in an alternative and modern lens and, in this aspect, Cave is certainly one of the foremost interpreters along with Gun Club, Tom Waits, and Morphine.
The album opens with "Tupelo", introduced and concluded by the sound of pouring rain that explicitly represents the climate and mood, fatalistic and hallucinatory, of the entire work. The aforementioned track contains rhythmic musical traits, pervaded by a demonic rhythm with the presence of dark and sinister choirs.
"Train Long - Suffering" constitutes a demonic and perverse railway-paced blues ride, just like "Black Crow King", characterized by a singing-recitational style in the name of the blackest and most cursed ritualism.
"Knockin' on Joe" is a piercing blues, capable of penetrating the darkest depths and recesses of the soul. Initially marked by the sparse and essential sound of a harmonica, the track then proceeds inexorably slowly, like a nightmare-filled journey, full of desolation, despair, and sweet sadness.
"Wanted Man", Bob Dylan's cover, is characterized in this version by its vehemence and its mad and evil charge where Cave's frenzied preacher qualities stand out.
"Blind Lemon Jefferson", a clear homage to the great bluesman, becomes another sinister blues, loaded with apocalyptic tension and a sense of inevitable curse.
"The Six Strings that Drew Blood" features a sparse and essential musical form, slow in its advance, always evil and sinister.
"Say Goodbye To The Little Girl Tree" unfolds at its beginning with a direct, mysterious, and hypnotic call to the devil's music, then conveys, as the track progresses, the most gloomy and wild emotions.
Besides the dark, mad, and apocalyptic singing, the work possesses, from a purely musical standpoint, all the elements that distinguish Cave's early artistic experiences that, in a nutshell, consist of an obsessive blues guitar sound, sparse and essential, a harmonica not intrusive yet capable, when present, of satisfactorily completing the entire soundscape, and an absolutely gothic and cavernous bass sound.
It is also worth noting the continuous presence of choral elements that, in terms of emotional intensity in its type, reflect and contribute to consolidating the underlying mood of the work.
Overall, the album possesses a musical dimension that draws heavily from delta blues, which is evident in the musical traits and the blend of all the instruments giving rise to an unconventional form of modern blues.
From a purely conceptual perspective, it is possible to argue that, even in this case, the core of the work is pervaded derivatively by various existential elements, legends, and myths that surround and belong to the context linked to the blues and the deep rural south; themes, dimensions, however, placed in a decidedly current lens of introspection and individual existentialism.
Tracklist Lyrics and Samples
01 Tupelo (07:16)
Looka yonder! Looka yonder!
Looka yonder! A big black cloud come!
A big black cloud come!
O comes to Tupelo. Comes to Tupelo
Yonder on the horizon
Yonder on the horizon
Stopped at the mighty river
Stopped at the mighty river and
Sucked the damn thing dry
Tupelo-o-o, O Tupelo
In a valley hides a town called Tupelo
Distant thunder rumble. Distant thunder rumble
Rumble hungry like the Beast
The Beast it cometh, cometh down
The Beast it cometh, cometh down
Wo wo wo-o-o
Tupelo bound. Tupelo-o-o. Yeah Tupelo
The Beast it cometh, Tupelo bound
Why the hen won't lay no egg
Can't get that cock to crow
The nag is spooked and crazy
O God help Tupelo! O God help Tupelo!
O God help Tupelo! O God help Tupelo!
Ya can say these streets are rivers
Ya can call these rivers streets
Ya can tell ya self ya dreaming buddy
But no sleep runs this deep
No! No sleep runs this deep
No sleep runs this deep
Women at their windows
Rain crashing on the pane
Writing in the frost
Tupelos' shame. Tupelo's shame
O God help Tupelo! O God help Tupelo!
O go to sleep lil children
The sandmans on his way
O go to sleep lil children
The sandmans in his way
But the lil children know
They listen to the beating of their blood
listen to the beating of their blood
listen to the beating of their blood
listen to the beating of their blood
They listen to the beating of their blood
The sandman's mud!
The sandman's mud!
And the black rain come down
the black rain come down
the black rain come down
Water water everywhere
Where no bird can fly no fish can swim
Where no bird can fly no fish can swim
No fish can swim
Until The King is born!
Until The King is born!
In Tupelo! Tupelo-o-o!
Til The King is born in Tupelo!
In a clap-board shack with a roof of tin
Where the rain came down and leaked within
A young mother frozen on a concrete floor
With a bottle and a box and a cradle of straw
Tupelo-o-o! O Tupelo!
With a bottle and a box and a cradle of straw
Well Saturday gives what Sunday steals
And a child is born on his brothers heels
Come Sunday morn the first-born dead
In a shoebox tied with a ribbon of red
Tupelo-o-o! Hey Tupelo!
In a shoebox buried with a ribbon of red
O ma-ma rock you lil' one slow
O ma-ma rock your baby
O ma-ma rock your lil' one slow
O God help Tupelo! O God help Tupelo!
Mama rock your lil' one slow
The lil one will walk on Tupelo
The lil one will walk on Tupelo
Black rain come down, Black rain come down
Tupelo-o-o! Yeah Tupelo!
And carry the burden of Tupelo
Tupelo-o-o! O Tupelo! Yeah!
The King will walk on Tupelo!
Tupelo-o-o! O Tupelo!
He carried the burden outa Tupelo!
Tupelo-o-o! Hey Tupelo! [Repeat]
You will reap just what you sow
07 Blind Lemon Jefferson (06:09)
Blind Lemon Jefferson is a-coming
Tap tap tappin with his cane
Blind Lemon Jefferson is a-coming
Tap tap tappin with his cane
His last ditch lies down the road of trials
Down the road of trials
Half filled with rain
O Sycamore, Sycamore!
Stretch your arms across the storm
Down fly two greasy brother-crows
They hop'n'bop They hop'n'bop They hop'n'bop
Like the tax-man come to call
They go knock knock! Knock knock!
Hop'n'bop hop'n'bop
They slap a death-writ on his door
Here come the Judgement train
Git on board!
And turn that big black engine home
O let's roll!
Let's roll!
Down the tunnel
The terrible tunnel of his world
Waiting at his final station
Like a bigger blacker third bird
O let's roll!
Let's roll!
O his road is dark and lonely
He don't drive no Cadillac
O his road is dark and holy
He don't drive no Cadillac
If that sky serves as his eyes
Then that moons a cataract
Let's roll!
Yeah let's roll!
08 In the Ghetto (04:06)
(M. Davies)
As the snow flies
On a cold and grey Chicago morn
A poor little baby child is born in the ghetto
And his mama cries
Cause there's one thing that she don't need
Is another little hungry mouth to feed in the ghetto
Oh people don't you understand
This child needs a helping hand
He's gonna grow to be an angry young man some day
Take a look at you and me
Are we that blind to see?
Do we simply turn our heads and look the other way?
And the world turns
And the hungry little boy with the runny nose
Plays in the streets as the cold wind blows in the ghetto
And his hunger burns
So he starts to roam the streets at night
And he learns how to steal and he learns how to fight in the ghetto
Then one night in desperation
The young man breaks away
He buys a gun and steals a car
He tries to run but he don't get far
And his mama cries
A crowd gathers round an angry young man
Face down in the street with a gun in his hand in the ghetto
Oh people don't you understand
This child needs a helping hand
He's gonna grow to be an angry young man some day
Take a look at you and me
Are we that blind to see?
Do we simply turn our heads and look the other way?
And as her young man dies
On a cold and grey Chicago morn
Another little baby child is born in the ghetto
10 The Six Strings That Drew Blood (04:50)
Guitar thug blew into town
His eyes like wheels spinnin' round
Jerkin-off at every sound
Layin' all his crosses down
O yeah
He got Six Strings
The Six Strings that drew blood
The bar is full of Holy-Joes
A Holy-hole-a-whole-aria
Around the neck of our consumptive rose
is the root of all his sorrows
O yeah
He got Six Strings
Six Strings that drew blood
A Holy-hole-a-whole-aria
Six Strings that drew blood
In the bathroom under cover
He turns on one tap to discover
He's smashed his teeth out on the other
Well he look in the mirror and say
don't fuck me brother
Cause I got Six Strings
Six Strings that drew blood
Numbin' the runt of reputation they call rat fame
Top-E as a tourniquet
A low tune whistles across his grave
Forever the master and the slave of his Six Strings
A Holy-hole-a-whole-aria
Six Strings that drew blood.
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Other reviews
By Bartleboom
The prophet is the voice that fills the silence between the lightning and the thunder: he is a hooded snake, mad and sensual, with the face of a vampire worn out by thirst.
Twenty years after its release, The Firstborn Is Dead remains, in my opinion, one of Nick Cave’s most poignant and beautiful frescoes.
By VicVegaMrBlonde
This album, for me, is not an album... it has never been, really... but don’t misunderstand me... more than an album, for me it’s always been a fresco... a sound fresco... decadent poetry and melody... pain and dark sounds...
Nick Cave is the painter... the Bad Seeds are his colors... the canvas, the poems of love and death that trace the path... and you? well, you are the timid observer...
