Nick Cave

It's 1989: Nick Cave arrives in São Paulo, Brazil, the final stop on a tormented journey that has taken him from his native Melbourne to London, Berlin and New York. But the Nick Cave who lands in the Brazilian city is a different man from the wild-eyed storyteller of the Birthday Party days or the early Bad Seeds records: in the previous two years the Australian artist had climbed out of the hell of drug addiction, published his first novel, and released an album of real depth and ambition, "Tender Prey", which already contained the seeds that would blossom in full splendour on this "Good Son". He had also found in religion, and in the thousand doubts it raised in him, a further source of inspiration. And in Brazil he meets the woman who would soon give him his first child. In short, the Nick Cave who arrives in São Paulo has grown as both a man and an artist, ready to leave the past behind and give life to his masterpiece, the work that would cement his place once and for all among the greatest songwriters of all time.

As usual he's backed by the trusty Bad Seeds, led by the talent of Mick Harvey (bass, acoustic guitar, vibraphone, arrangements) and the charisma of Blixa Bargeld (guitar and vocals), joined by Kid Powers (guitar) and Thomas Wydler (drums), forming an exceptional band, perfectly in sync and beautifully balanced.

It opens with the slow, serene, resigned melody of "Foi Na Cruz", brimming with "saudade", quite possibly the saddest, most moving and most refined thing Nick Cave has ever put to paper: Harvey's gorgeous string arrangements embellish the songs without ever being intrusive or overblown, unfolding instead with the same impeccable poise with which the Bad Seeds accompany the singer's heartfelt prayer.

From here on, the album's journey is a constant back-and-forth between restless, unstable atmospheres and slow, solemn ballads. A perfect example is the title track, a long, schizophrenic delirium in which Cave sublimates all his guilt and his yearning for redemption, alternating a neurotic, anguish-laden crescendo with gospel choirs and wonderfully unexpected symphonic openings. And how to describe the beauty of a ballad like "Sorrow's Child", charged with an arcane, mysterious allure: Cave's cavernous, mournful voice here reaches the peak of its powerful, terrible intensity, just as his songwriting skill is at its very height, while the Bad Seeds back him with unmatched class and taste. This exceptional opening trio of songs alone would be enough to make the album immortal.

Carried along on a languid, hypnotic bossa nova rhythm, "The Weeping Song" unfolds as a duet between Bargeld and Cave, who play a father and son respectively as they watch, bewildered, everyone around them succumb to despair. A sinister, menacing track, perhaps the darkest and most pessimistic moment on the record, the polar opposite of the following "Ship Song", an elegant ballad with an almost fairy-tale quality. Another abrupt change of register comes with "The Hammer Song", a piece the Bad Seeds tint by turns with western and noir shades, exotic and apocalyptic, while Cave dusts off his old possessed-preacher persona for the occasion. "Lament" then returns to wrap itself in languid symphonic openings and seductive melodies, in a classic, even retro style, of great refinement.

The rousing spiritual of "The Witness Song", another brilliant display of shape-shifting from Cave and company, sets the stage for the wonderful nocturnal melancholy of "Lucy", a song of love and pain that fades into a dreamlike coda, closing the album on romantic, disconsolate notes.

Very few other artists can match Nick Cave's ability to stir emotions so contrasting and so powerful, just as very few others can boast his evocative gift. And never as much as on this record do the stories Cave tells seem to truly materialise before our eyes, as though we were "invisible" witnesses to a sacred rite. And so there we are, sitting on the riverbank beside them, beside the "good son", the "daughter of sorrow" and all the other characters who bring this work to life: the river, water, are omnipresent figures on the record, representing a longing for purity and salvation, mystical symbols that seem to want to balance out the tears — real, concrete tears — shed everywhere, by every character, in every song.

For its musical depth and value, but also for its literary and poetic weight and its overwhelming emotional impact, "The Good Son" is, in every sense, a precious and unrepeatable work. No other album by the Australian songwriter has ever reached, nor is any likely ever to reach again, such devastating intensity and such towering beauty.

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27/10/2006