Yep, Nick Cave is my goddamned hero.
Nick Cave’s music confronts the darkness that lurks in man. He doesn’t play the observer gaining an understanding of the evil being examined. He plays the evil man gaining an understanding of himself. It’s one thing to fear the shooter; it’s something else entirely to shudder at the thought of you being the shooter.
Through his music, Cave has long traveled the roads of guilt (Knoxville Girl), drunken gang-rape (Papa Won’t Leave You Henry), domestic violence (Jack the Ripper), and damnation (Up Jumped the Devil). And he rocks doing it.
Nick Cave, and his long time compatriots, the Bad Seeds, explore these dark roads in order to carve out some of the baddest-assed rock every to grace my stereo. He makes every other rock star out there look like a total pussy. This is a man who wrote a letter to MTV in 1996 asking them to never nominate him for another award again. Damned right – fuck your marketing culture, music industry. Nick Cave doesn’t need your shit. He's too busy kicking ass.
In his own words, “MY MUSIC IS UNIQUE AND INDIVIDUAL AND EXISTS BEYOND THE REALMS INHABITED BY THOSE WHO WOULD REDUCE THINGS TO MERE MEASURING.”
Thank Heaven (and Hell) for that. Thank them for the continued genius that led Cave and a couple of his Bad Seeds cohorts to hit a London Studio and form Grinderman, releasing a downright awesome new album. With that, they’ve churned out a dozen more ass-kicking journeys into the sick world of the man I fear inside myself. That’s fucking rock and roll. Now give me a guitar to smash on the floor.
Grinderman’s sound is a little different from the Bad Seeds, but the feeling is all the same. With tracks like “No Pussy Blues” and “Love Bomb,” Nick Cave and Co. have delivered one of the most fantastic offerings to the pagan rock gods in a long time. I’m headed to the nearest church of true rock – a garage – to pray.
Have a listen:
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