Grinderman
Label: Anti-
Length: LP
Rated: NONE
Media: CD
Format: Album
WorkNameSort: Grinderman
If Neil Young’s career has been schizophrenic, with its shifts from acoustic to electric, Nick Cave’s career is acutely bipolar. Cave shuttles back and forth between piano-based torch ballads in which he performs as a pitch-challenged Frank Sinatra and the guitar-led tribal voodoo rhythm blues that he pioneered in Australia in the early ’80s with the Birthday Party, then for decades with his Bad Seeds and now Grinderman. One minute Cave’s swooning under the moon in June, the next he’s howling at it.
Cave’s had mixed results with both extremes. I’ve written the guy off several times, only to be suddenly impressed by a new track or album that further stretches his dramatic arc. Most performers really do ‘jump the sharkâ?� at some point and never return, but Cave’s a modern-day Lazarus, returning to creative life when least expected. Though the name of this ‘newâ?� project is Grinderman, the usual Bad Seed suspects are employed: Guitarist Warren Ellis, bassist Martyn Casey and drummer Jim Sclavunos were assembled in 2004 for a songwriting session in Paris that yielded the Cave two-fer Abattoir Blues/The Lyre of Orpheus. After years of writing songs in an office from 9 to 5 like an insurance actuary, Cave rediscovered the joys and benefits of collaboration. So, in February 2006, the foursome booked time in London for a five-day session that led to a week in April at RAK Studios, where the band cut a raw collection of blues-influenced rock & roll. While there’s a hidden ballad (‘Man in the Moonâ?�), most of what’s here should be played quite loud.
It’s a deliberately muddy collection, with each instrumentalist blending into the big wall of sound. ‘Honey Bee (Let’s Fly to Mars)â?� rattles out of the gate like a go-kart with faulty steering, slamming into whatever stands in its way. ‘Grindermanâ?� tests a listener’s patience with a tonal pattern that could be inspired by the Emergency Broadcast System. ‘No Pussy Blues,â?� ‘When My Love Comes Downâ?� and ‘Love Bombâ?� evoke the swampland blues of Cave’s earliest solo work. Cave’s neither breaking new ground nor ‘refiningâ?� (thank God) his sound, and he’s not stalled in either place. Most probably, he’s digging straight down, unleashing a fiery wrath from the Pandora’s box he opened as a kid, finding a little treasure and a whole lot of trouble.
This article appears in Apr 11-17, 2007.