Joe Costello is present for a night of traffic-interrupted musical ambience.
I have been trying and failing to see this evening’s support act Black Country New Road for some years now. The band hail from Cambridge and not locally as you might expect given the name they alighted upon via Wikipedia’s random article button.
Previous attempts had been scuppered variously by Covid, cancellations and poor planning so I made sure I arrived at the venue in plenty of time to see them but unfortunately spent longer in the queue, more akin to what I became accustomed to at Villa Park early in the season, than seeing them perform, catching only the latter couple of minutes of their final song, so the wait continues.
And so to the main event and an email received the day before advising a show that would last two and a half hours sent a shudder through my ageing joints, making me regret opting for standing tickets. As expected, the larger part of the setlist is made up of the latest album Wild God, a departure from the glacial, ambient sounds of its predecessor Ghosteen via the Carnage offshoot written and performed with Warren Ellis and a more layered, symphonic approach, the Bad Seeds augmented by a four-piece choir decked out in glittering robes.
Cave enters the stage last in regulation, immaculately-tailored suit as they begin the show with three tracks from Wild God, the big screens occasionally flashing a pertinent lyric, a repeated “KILL ME!” from opener Frogs springs readily to mind then he pauses to give us a short introduction to the next song O Children, written 22 years ago he tells, with the world in a similar parlous state as today.
An attempted interruption to his train of thought is given short shrift but for an unexpected reason, any cause for deviation these days causes him to enter what he describes as “a perpetual Biden moment” and he wants to stay on topic. I should no longer be surprised by how funny Nick Cave can be, yet somehow it still comes as a surprise.
Jubilee Street with a rearranged rock outro and From Her to Eternity follow, raising the tempo before we learn from Warren Ellis that his grandfather came from Solihull, guitarist George Vestica, Cave tells us, is from somewhere close by as well (Stoke on Trent as it happens).
A woozy, primal rendition of Tupelo, we are informed, was written for and about Elvis, audience participation encouraged and demanded before we arrive at the mid-point and Joy, where Bob Dylan, who attended the Paris show two nights later, puts it better than I or probably anyone else ever could; “I was really struck by that song Joy where he sings ‘We’ve all had too much sorrow, now it the time for joy.’ I was thinking to myself, yeah that’s about right.”
Red Right Hand, perhaps predictably, is swearily dedicated to Birmingham, he enjoys the audience’s humming of the melody so much he instigates another round of it, finding time to alter the lyrics to continue what appears to be a running joke at the expense of stand-in bassist Colin Greenwood, on loan from Radiohead, before the main set closes with The Mercy Seat and White Elephant, the choir descending from their platform to conclude the show at the front of the stage.
They disappear briefly before the three song encore, which should have been have been four as we are made aware of a £5,000 per minute fine hanging over their heads in the event of breaking curfew and O Wow O Wow (How Wonderful She Is) has to make way. He may not be joking when he suggests a hat may be passed around.
Papa Won’t Leave You Henry, The Weeping Song, a reluctantly signed book and the Bad Seeds depart for Cave to take to the piano for an ostensibly unaccompanied Into My Arms, but audience participation is to the fore during the chorus and before he departs, thanking all corners of the Arena before he goes, an exhilarating evening complete, the toll taken on my ankles and knees not evident until the following day.
