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Rating: I never thought that Festivals are the best way for some artists to represent their art. Even worse when the entrance is free. It attracts people who come more out of curiosity, are generally distracted, and distract those who might have been waiting for that event for weeks with their chatter. I am convinced that there are now too many free sources to approach music, to know it, and that this gratuitousness inevitably tends to level towards the bottom with a spirit of false democracy of dissemination. A choice is democratic when it has a minimum entry fee, perhaps symbolic or free. I say this because I have heard gratuitous comments about the almost merciful choice in recent years made by the artistic director in favor of sacred monsters, but according to these "living dead" such as Iggy Pop, Lou Reed, and now Nick Cave.
It's an interesting point of view that deserves further exploration.
After an opening by St. Vincent that was truly very interesting and convincing, capturing everyone's attention, they arrive, the Bad Seeds.
A completely reshuffled lineup with the inclusion of the Grindermen, where Warren Ellis effectively replaces Blixa Bargeld without being missed, and Ed Kuepper, formerly of The Saints, on guitar instead of Mick Harvey, and finally Jim Sclavunos, formerly of the Cramps, who helps give that stoner drive to the whole.
The most surprising fact is the presence of the double drums which then gives the musical imprint to the entire concert. He is really cool. The mustache that gave him a rock n roll look is gone, the hard face returns, the thick eyebrows, long and shiny hair with the classic open striped shirt, and a generally vaguely western image. My friend who accompanies me is the first to express: "but how cool he is!" I can't blame her, especially because, in some ways, he is a survivor.
The cavemen machine of Grindermen starts. Soon we reach "Deanna," one of the few jumps into the deeper past, but it is with "Dig, Lazarus, Dig" that the Bad Seeds emerge with a breathtaking sound. The rhythm is definitely fabulous! Nick is immediately excited, he gives himself to the audience, never winking just for the job. A facial mimicry that leaves very little room for smiles, a few jokes: "thank you or fuck you?" The audience responds thank you, and he replies thank you too. A funny little skit. It could have fallen into ballads, but apart from a few cases like "Love Letter" he prefers a more aggressive tracklist, but not without drawing too much from the most remote past like "Your Funeral My Trial". The main calls are "Mercy Seat", "The Weeping Song", but I can't help but think that this group could also propose a sick version of "Jack The Ripper" in The Horrors style or some piece like Birthday Party.
Beautiful concert: intense, generous, never predictable, but it could be different every night because drawing from the history of an artist like Nick Cave is too easy: it's like being in the land of plenty. There's only embarrassment of choice.
And going back to the beginning, the answer also becomes simple. A sacred monster becomes old when he has nothing more to say and becomes a clone of himself. This is not really the case for Nick Cave.
We return home thrilled by an extraordinary night. Everything perfect.
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