More about: Nick Cave

When you walk into Blackpool’s Winter Gardens, you’re greeted by a bronze statue of Morecambe and Wise. Local legends reminiscent of the heyday of good, simple classic entertainment, it’s a uniquely perfect welcome to the more avant-garde duo of Nick Cave and Warren Ellis on this first joint bill tour in their long collaborative relationship.

The choice to go to Blackpool was a half-ironic one, as the town stands at complete odds to Nick Cave. Brash and commercial, Nick himself even comments on the city’s bright illuminations. His first words to the audience are an anecdote about how, from his hotel window, he can see a giant glowing Spongebob. Yet looming over the somewhat post-apocalyptic town centre, right around the corner from a fidget spinner shop, the art-deco beauty of the Winter Gardens feels frozen in time. Making an oddly perfect backdrop, a haven for the exact type of people Nick and Warren pull in, everyone wears their theatre-best just as Nick Cave likes it, entering the stage in his crisp suit as usual.

When he announced his tour, the excitement was paired with a level of confusion. Why the hell was Nick Cave going to Blackpool? Or Stockton? Or…Ipswich? Bouncing between the usual major cities and some of the UK's most run-down and forgotten towns, it’s an odd map between vibrancy and desolation.

But as the band dive into a set full of Nick’s most desperate and gut-wrenching tracks, guiding the audience through highlights from Ghosteen, Carnage and a select few nostalgia tracks like ‘Darker with the Day’, it all seems to make a lot more sense. To the person in the crowd that repeatedly yelled out for ‘Stagger Lee’ only to be met with a side-eye from the stage, this was not the tour for you. Separating his old punky discography with his latest works, this is not the tour for fans who simple want to scream the Peaky Blinders theme tune.

Shuffling into our red velvet seats, this isn’t the tour for anyone who wants to sing anything. This is Nick Cave’s show. These are his songs about a deeply personal experience of grief after losing his son, Arthur. And the audience falls into a respectful hush immediately to let him sing them.

Falling straight into ‘Spinning Song’, Nick wanders around the stage pointing to the crowd like a pastor as we hang on every word of "…and I love you…" A surprisingly minimal set up, Nick’s grand piano sits opposite Warren’s humble chair where he sits hunched over a synth on his lap. Multi-instrumentalist Johnny Hostile holds down bass, sparing drums and keys, three backing singers create a gospel choir as they tie the team together with moments of transcendent harmonies and haunting howls over the gut-wrenching lyrics. As they move into ‘Bright Horses’, tears are already rolling as Warren wails the intro as though vocalising an unspeakable loss while Nick wanders through the narrative of the desperate hope that comes after death. 

In comparison to his early works that delve so deeply into fiction, especially in the genres of horror and chaos, his latest albums are heavily non-fiction and the fact hangs heavily in the air. Looking around in the dark, everyone’s hand is on their heart or on the knee of the person they love, gripping as you can feel Nick holding Arthur close in his heart, creating a show that feels heavenly as a means of connection. Then moments later we’re all laughing at his sharp wit and effortless friendliness, he fist-pumps the air after even the saddest songs as a funny little habit, and the icon humanises himself in two ways—first through the universality of emotion, and second through plain simple banter. 

If grief is one theme of the tour, the other is God, but not in the way you’d expect. Still holding onto his incredible intense stage presence even in this sadder era of his work, Nick moves like a sorcerer as the lights flash almost at his command. Glowing with a bright sunrise orange when he calls upon light and then falling into deep blues with his mood, he commands everything about the stage and all our seats. Warren’s suited figure in the corner plays its part too, always perfectly in sync with Nick’s feeling as they play with the exact passion and tightness you’d expect from two friends who have made music together forever.

Raising his hands in proclamation like the most devout believer in Nick’s gospel, their joint effort maintains that semi-creepy, totally hypnotic messiah act Nick Cave has always managed to have. As they barrel into ‘Hand of God’, the most carnage-filled track from the album, their gospel act booms into a total exorcism. 

Playing with our emotions as he glides between deep grief and godly wonder, the changes are never jarring or odd. Instead, the evening is filled with moments of indescribable beauty, with choral fills and long violin solos from Warren, especially during a cover of T. Rex’s ‘Cosmic Dancer’ in which the crowd interrupts Nick’s second verse by demanding to give Warren a standing ovation. Stripping songs like ‘Waiting for You’ and Skeleton Tree’s ‘I Need You’ back to desperate solo renditions that shine the light fully onto Nick’s poetic lyricism, we see the best of every corner of his talent as the climaxes are huge while the subdued moments are stunning. 

Playing two encores, I wonder how long we could do this pattern as we clap loudly again and again, begging for more. Live music has been back for a while now but this felt like the return of true and proper showmanship. I have no real concluding thoughts. Sometimes something is so beautiful you have no words. 

More about: Nick Cave