Push The Sky Away
The first Bad Seeds album post-Mick Harvey is minimalist, nebulous and initially almost too easy to enjoy. But soon it drives home its hidden power, writes MATT SHEA.
Cave loses Harvey, records vastly different album. That’s the common shorthand being applied to Push the Sky Away. But it’s worth considering what else has gone into Nick Cave’s latest studio LP, his 15th with The Bad Seeds.
There’s producer Nick Launay, one of Cave’s oldest collaborators – the man who over 30 years ago snuck The Birthday Party into a London studio – dialling in the spacious touch that marks his best work. More importantly, this is the first Bad Seeds album where Cave arrived in the studio with his songs written and ready to be laid down. It makes for a very different record to previous efforts such as Dig!!! Lazurus Dig!!!* (2008) and *Abattoir Blues* (2004), which had their ideas sprayed at listeners like barrel loads of buckshot. *Push the Sky Away?s songs are musically focussed and to the point, The Bad Seeds eschewing a full frontal assault to instead carefully wind themselves around Cave’s ideas.
The result is a concise, minimalist set, one that encourages the listener to explore its dark musical corners. On first encounter it feels similar to The Boatman’s Call* (1997) and *Nocturama* (2003), but repeated listens delineate it from those two albums? surefooted arrangements. *Push the Sky Away is much more nebulous in its musical intent.
Take album opener ?We No Who U R?. In the past such a metronomic beat would’ve been perfect grist for a piano-led ballad, but here it’s stripped down to an echoing keyboard progression and sampled percussion, Cave filling the space with a menacing take on his infamous baritone. Chiming flourishes are mechanically delivered and Warren Ellis circles the song with his creeping strings, the final effect feeling like a drift into an airless void.
Or ?Wide Lovely Eyes?, whose chugging, suppressed guitar riff would have once flown into a catatonic rage of a song. Here it simply keeps the beat, the power not in what’s revealed but rather what’s held back. Likewise ?Water’s Edge?, Jim Sclavunos’s clattering rhythm and Ellis’s tortured violin sounding like an outtake from the soundtrack to the Cave-penned The Proposition – a stumbling form of restraint that allows you to feel the full force of the song’s licentious, murderous lyrics.
Sex and death are hardly new topics for Nick Cave, but elsewhere his lyrical concerns mark another departure for Push the Sky Away. Cave at home surfing the web might arouse some funny mental pictures, but that’s exactly what he did when considering the ideas he wanted to explore, penning two notebooks? worth of material over a period of eight months. It means that on first listen, Cave’s concerns seem as wide-ranging as his music is focussed.
?It’s almost like Nick Cave – well into middle age – is for the first time more intimidated by the world than the world is intimidated by Nick Cave.?
It’s initially distracting and tempting to write off as verbose nonsense. But repeated listens begin to reveal a clutch of thematic patterns. Most striking is ?Higgs Boson Blues?, which plays like a fever dream of Google news and Wikipedia links. ?Hannah Montana does the African Savannah? and ?Miley Cyrus floats in a swimming pool in Toluca Lake? while ?everybody’s bleeding to the Higgs Boson Blues.? It’s a song mired in the spiritual confusion of modern times, bellicose religiosity being beaten about by science-wielding atheism. The breakout riffing – the most ferocious of the album – adds to the feeling that this is in some respects the punkiest thing Cave has done in years.
Elsewhere, there’s the usual smattering of the sea and women (?Wide Lovely Eyes?), sex and death (?Water’s Edge?) and dead prostitutes (?Jubilee Street?). And while fire and brimstone creep around the edges, they’re not delivered with the preacher’s yowl Cave is typically known for. It’s almost like Nick Cave – 55 years old and well into middle age – is for the first time more intimidated by the world than the world is intimidated by Nick Cave.
In other respects, Push the Sky Away* recalls some of the middle-period Bad Seeds records, such as *The Good Son* (1990) and *Let Love In* (1994). The extra space supplied by Launay allows a prominence to be attached to backing vocals – often an underrated aspect of the band’s earlier work – and imbues the record with a more inviting tone. Indeed, if there’s a weakness with *Push the Sky Away*, it’s perhaps that the record’s *too easy to enjoy – that it slips past the listener rather than truly engaging on an emotional level. But time in front of the stereo tends to drive home its hidden power – particularly with a song such as ?Jubilee Street?, a circular build and blues-inflected blowout taking on a chilling component after repeated listens.
At this stage of his career, Nick Cave is beyond having to prove anything to anybody. But Push the Sky Away* is testament to the singer-songwriter’s ability to successfully flex against the constraints of his own craft. Most artists of his vintage would have run out of things to say 15 years ago, or maybe thrown in the towel once Harvey left. Instead, Cave wilfully seeks out new inspiration and has used Harvey’s departure as an opportunity to switch up his approach. It may only be February, but *Push the Sky Away will surely rank as one of the year’s best albums.
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