Hall of Shame Music Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds Saliha Enzenauer

Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds – Ghosteen (2019) / ‘The Emperor is Naked’ Edition

Saliha Enzenauer
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Nick Cave‘s newest album and latest career is a prime example of how much the wish to be effortlessly edgy, hip, and ‘dark’ with a hint of depth, blurs the senses and judgement of listeners.

We start with the cover. It reminds me of an experience that I had earlier in 2019: while walking through Ikea’s basement floor, suddenly I walked into fields of plastic flowers of all kinds, and people were buying them like crazy along with their scented candles. I wondered- when did that happen, that plastic flowers suddenly got fashionable? In my childhood and adolescence world they were all around me- primarily set there by the Turkish, Italian and Greek guestworker’s housewife, who was then horribly mocked for her kitschy and tacky taste. But in post-modern 2019 it is le dernier cri, and forgotten are the displays of sophisticated taste and elitist insults of the past. Also important: never credit or elevate the pioneers of a certain trend- sorry for all the mocking guys, but Graceland is hip now, and it’s ours!

Something similar yet worse is happening with the cover art of Nick Cave’s newest album. The ‘Prince of Darkness‘ treats us with an incredibly kitschy and tamed version of nature, with a unicorn-like white horse in the center of the colorfully air-brushed kitsch-flora; tigers, lions, swans and peacocks mythically grazing over paradisiacal green meadows, and celestial rays of light illuminating the scenery. It is too horrible to be true. Not only is it next level post-modernism that comes without any hint about conceptualism, but it is vomited in your way for you to just swallow it.

And not just that. The tragedy surrounding Nick Cave’s work since his 15-year-old son tragically died in 2015, seems to elevate every image, note, and lyric in his records and give it a deeper meaning. It is like with actors who play a person with disabilities: the critics are entranced by the “ruthless, honest, intensive and intimidating examination of the brutal reality etc.”, and the actors win an Oscar just for that very reason and no matter if that film is actually good. Ghosteen‘s cover art is a perfect example for it- the same people who would have a good laugh at this image if Taylor Swift used it as album cover, now embrace this fabulous unicorn-dream and force themselves to find the beauty in it. Or worse, they opt to completely ignore it and don’t even talk about it. It’s simply not happening. The emperor is naked, indeed.

And since Nick Cave throws his tragedy so prominently into the arena, and his last two albums came with the ever present explanations that it were albums about his son’s death and the grief taking over, some questions should be allowed. Does Cave by now has achieved such a standing, that the critics and fans reflexively find everything by him to be great, no matter what he does or how he does it? Would we be so forgiving with every artist doing that, or would we start talking about the exploitation of a tragic incident if it were another artist or celebrity, let’s say Beyonce? Wouldn’t we tell this person to take a long holiday? Even Eric Clapton only penned one song/album about his little son’s tragic death, while Nick Cave even filmed a documentary about it. It’s painful and you keep asking yourself “Why??”.

It is like watching emotional porn and being put into the role of a horrible voyeur, although you never asked for being in that place. But by now, Nick Cave has become a major interactor, or even spokesperson, for an esoteric and self-obsessed social media crowd who talks about their emotions and anxieties non-stop. It is a self-help group and not a scene from which great art or introspection emerges. Not that I wanna compare these two, but imagine Bowie had talked two years long about his cancer illness on social media and doing documentaries about it before releasing Blackstar. Maybe now you know what I mean.

Also, why is Arthur Cave’s death being talked about so onimously, both in interviews and in his records? We have the impression that he tragically died by falling of a cliff, but it is comletely blended out that he fell of this cliff while being on LSD. Does it take away the sentimental magic or magical sentimentality to address this cold fact? Cave as a recovered drug addict could make a real strong point here addressing the drug issue. But maybe that will happen on his next Bad Seeds album, we’ll see.

Nick Cave fans REALLY want to love Ghosteen, and provide you a truly great show when talking about this album. First of all, one has to make clear that this album doesn’t seem to take place in real life, but only in the world of critics and the virtual reality of social media. 99% of the opinions in this closed circuit move the words back and forth like chewing gum, with the inevitable conclusion eventually spat out: “It took me a few listens … but now I really love it… It’s not an album that you can always listen to… it’s a grower”- words that translate into “It’s shite, but I can’t risk admitting it”. What happens instead is a hilarious attempt into self-conditioning in order to like this album, with the connotation that if somebody doesn’t like it, then this person hasn’t tried hard enough or lacks the emotional capacity and sympathy to get into the spheres of ‘higher perception’. What this path looks like, what defines it and what it is all about – everything remains ominous and unclear, which in turn is the idiot’s chance for intellectuality and depth. The emperor is naked.

Isn’t it disgusting? Comparable to basically all public opinion, every clear word is being avoided at all costs – otherwise they could catch you being clueless idiot. Which is probably the reason why you’re listening to Nick Cave in the first place: don’t they all say that he is this great poet, the Prince of Darkness on which even the softest of us can agree on, with this aura of meaning and depth that wraps him up like Count Dracula’s cape? Who cares that he acts like a crazy evangelical TV preacher at his concerts? That he’s being depicted as new Messiah on his tour posters? Or that his saga includes his pale wife, who now has a fashion line called The Vampire’s Wife. Really? It’s like we’re stuck in highschool and elaborately staged but shallow goth-eroticism perpetually, dark nail polish included. It’s all too placative to be true.

I was always of the opinion that the people around him were very crucial for the aura and output of Nick Cave – the Bad Seeds, Mick Harvey, Spencer P. Jones and other unsung genius artists of the Australian scene, and especially Blixa Bargeld, whose truly intriguing personality and aura seems to have been projected to Cave. And apparently Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds never recovered from the loss of these fantastic and unique musicians, but are on a never ending downward spiral. The music on Ghosteen is characterized by a lack of imagination in melodies and a one-dimensional ambient sound. The sound scapes that Warren Ellis spreads out with his synths and electric violins sound like a 15-year old boy trying out his new keyboard that he got for Christmas, and quickly wear out. No highlights, no tension. The backing vocals “Aaaaaaaaaaah” are often terrible and insulting, and Cave’s singing is a monotonous recitative with a tendency towards howling. He overuses his newly discovered falsetto in a very unnuanced way. It remains a mystery to me why the album gets full points and recommendations in almost all record reviews. It is embarrassing. Or is it the voyeur’s reward for emotional exposure and therefore rather vile?

Maybe it would have been better to have released this album as a book. Although… let’s have a look at some of the lyrics and revisit Nick Cave’s reputation as ‘great poet’ by measuring him by his late output. Even (or especially) considering his personal tragedy, the lyrics are not very impressive, but leave you strangely cold. I would have thought that Nick Cave could use a more personal and creative visual language for his grievance. Instead, a sultry pathos drips from Cave’s lyrics when he is playing around with religious and theatrical clichés, which are all too reminiscent of evangelical revival movements. It’s absolute kitsch, trite and pathetic:

The king had a queen, the queen’s hair was a stairway
She tended the castle garden and in the garden planted a tree
The garden tree was a stairway, it was 16 branches high
On the top branch was a nest, sing the high cloudy nest
In the nest there was a bird, the bird had a wing
The wing had a feather, spin the feather and sing the wind

HOW IN HELL did this amazing poetry straight from the non-farting heart of a virginal and aristocratic Goldilocks got penned? Imagine Jack Torrance sitting in front of his typewriter, but starring at his expensive and romantic Victorian wallpapers instead of the Overlook Hotel’s walls.

The bright horses have broken free from the fields
They are horses of love, their manes full of fire

Back to elementary school, it’s pony time again. Not in a Lermontovian or Bukowskian way, but as reflection of the dreamy white air-brush horses running over the cover like stickers that have lost their glitter. I hope your vampire wife is riding these horses naked, Nick.

The three bears watch the TV
They age a lifetime, O’ Lord
Mama bear holds the remote
Papa bear, he just floats
And baby bear, he has gone
To the moon in a boat, on a boat
I’m speaking about love now
And how the lights of love go down

Where is Nick Cave going?!?

By Saliha Enzenauer – February 2020

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