A warm and welcome surprise it is to hear from Nick Cave and The Bad Seeds. As prolific as the Australian-born artist has been in recent years, it is always a jolt of joy to come from an album announcement. Wild God, the upcoming record and song of the same name to lead the faithful charge so obvious in writings from Cave elsewhere, feels as reassured and accountable as expected. Hands cut and cold from the dying days of winter, implanting themselves in the Spring. What a grand surprise and wonderful appearance Nick Cave and The Bad Seeds make. Wild God, their first fresh release together since Ghosteen, finds its footing and carefully offers these powers of faith. These are the next steps of a band whose rocking ways are at a definitive end, and rightly so.
Not self-referential but plenty to pool from their last decade of work. Warren Ellis steps up and maintains a similar form to his previous Cave collaboration, Carnage, entertaining the disassociated voices, the spiralling presence as the Jubilee Street mentions flow through and harpsichord begins to filter through. Cave and company feel refreshed by a minimalist identity, their white-on-white title, and the conversation with an eponymous deity asking for your spirit. “When it hits, it hits,” Cave said in a recent interview. That it does. “Bring your spirit down,” and the orchestral abundance which follows is a shock to the heart and a wonderful call to arms.
This is not a call to arms against someone but to defend yourself. Free your spirit and spiral on, out of control but in the liberating acts which Cave and The Bad Seeds revel in. They are moved by some as-yet-unknown power and this is the joy of their records. Piece it together, slowly but surely. Wild God follows the theme of faith and belief as strictly as it can – because Cave and The Bad Seeds find themselves so confidently convinced by devotion as salvation. There are still darker flourishes, the pillages of a mad God who sees himself as good at heart. Instrumental flourishes and the sharp and creeping guitar of the opener to the booming orchestra towards the end is all marvellous. A remarkable step and a maintaining of expectedly high form.
Revel in its joy, its tender wordplay and the fiery tone taken with a record which feels like a deep release of pent-up love. Wild God is a teary tune, one which will no doubt evoke some massive, overwhelming response from those who were desperate for more work from Cave. But for a man whose Red Hand Files are readily available, the beauty and candour taken up by this wordsmith should be no surprise. Wild God is a masterclass. Unity over the world takes its firm and refined place as the strings burst through, the seams frayed and loose. Tackling a Cave song is terrifying. Do a great writer justice with thoughts powered by caffeine and compound fears which feel exorcised here. Take yourself back to the bedsits of 1993, the flickers of looking back but pulling yourself from the spotlight. Wild God has an energetic rush at its core, a truly overwhelming section which will likely become the beating heart of this record. It would make sense if so, it is the title track after all.
Discover more from Cult Following
Subscribe to get the latest posts sent to your email.
