Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds
Abattoir Blues/The Lyre of Orpheus
[Ant]

by K. Vicious

Is it a little too late in the game for 47-year-old Nick Cave to make another career-defining statement? Judging by the prolific nature of his recent output or how this vaunted songwriter has reinvented himself, maybe not. After all, we have experienced the proverbial rebirths of Nick Cave more than a few times already. The release of From Her to Eternity (1984) marked his blood-spattered break from the Birthday Party and the foundation for the Bad Seeds. Tender Prey (1988) then announced his rise above his Goth caricature to become an enduring artist with profound song writing dimensions, highlighted by “The Mercy Seat”, a song so great that Johnny Cash would later cover it on his American Recordings. Then there was the heroically literate No More Shall We Part (2001), Cave’s lyrics never read more compellingly while the Bad Seeds bestowed upon the songs an epic quality.  

And as one comes to grips with the immense ambition of his latest double album, Abattoir Blues and The Lyre of Orpheus, these outstanding songs do offer a fairly rounded outlook of their maker. The abrasive rock numbers, the gentrified poetry, the grim paeans to faith and religious redemption, the shattering love songs, the rattling blues, the mythical comedies and the ironic tragedies: it’s all in there somewhere. Yet the whole massive set-up does not come across as overblown or overstated. And if Abattoir Blues/ The Lyre of Orpheus doesn’t always sound like the greatest thing Cave has ever committed to tape, it doesn’t really need to. One thing for sure is that the Bad Seeds had never sounded so elegantly cathartic and never had Cave aimed his slingshots at so vast a target, especially on the rollicking Abattoir Blues. The unfortunate departure of guitarist Blixa Bargeld is still no reason to not crank up a mutiny in heaven, and the Bad Seeds reach a very high mark early. The electrifying “There She Goes, My Beautiful World” welcomes chaos and blunt beauty into the fold, with the band fiercely levitating and gospel singers wailing while Cave lumps together Paul Gaugin, Dylan Thomas, Johnny Thunders and others like a demonaic’s last desperate plea for immortality (“I’d ask for nothing in this life/ Give me ever-lasting life/ I just want to move the world”) in the work he leaves behind. Bleak songs like “Cannibal’s Hymn” and “Abattoir Blues” features some of his most powerful song writing, and the simmering “Hiding All Away” cracks in a premature apocalypse, orchestrating the thunderous roar of the ‘war coming from above’.

The dipping point of the first record’s intensity only starts at “Let the Bells Ring”, Cave’s tribute to Johnny Cash, which nicely leaves enough time for listeners to amble into the lithe The Lyre of Orpheus, the title track a suave fusion of mythology and Freudian black humour where Eurydice warned Orpheus “If you play that fucking thing down there, I’ll stick it up your orifice”. “Babe, You Turn Me On” is Byronic balladry for those with all the right tastes while giddy sentiments along with the gingerly strummed acoustic guitars and romantic flutes on “Breathless” pull the claws and fangs completely out of Cave’s mordant wit. On songs like “Easy Money” and “Supernaturally”, his spiritual yearnings are more grounded but The Lyre of Orpheus sorely lacks the cohesion to be found on Abattoir Blues. Then the ominous black cloud of “O Children” (“We have the answers to all your fears, it’s short, it’s simple, it’s crystal clear/ It’s round about, it’s somewhere here, lost amongst our winnings”) brings the records to an appropriate close. For strewn across these 17 songs are the baleful ingredients and the morbid satisfactions recognizable in Nick Cave’s songwriting voice. “They keep bringing out the dead now, it’s easy if we just look away,” he laments on “Messiah Ward”, while this crazed and bleating world goes crashing all around his head. Feel free to call Abattoir Blues/ The Lyre of Orpheus and No More Shall We Part ‘midlife classics’ if you want; for Cave, the view is never a comfortable one.

Clinic
Winchester Cathedral
[Domino]

by K. Vicious

I have always adored Clinic not only because they are from Liverpool but also because to me, this is the one band that is most primed for satisfying my philistine pleasures. Sure, they are one-trick ponies who have made the same goddamned record over and over again, but who cares when you got elemental art rock as fanatically trumped up as on their third album Winchester Cathedral? On this new one, their particular weaknesses become somewhat more admirable – with Winchester Cathedral, it seems Clinic has taken on the chore of polishing up different bits and pieces from their earlier work.

And so “Circle of Fifths” takes the sinister piano parts from the first half of Walking with Thee (2002) and builds up the dramatic potential while “Vertical Take Off in Egypt” is more convincing than any of the instrumentals put up on Internal Wrangler (2000) and early singles. Elsewhere, “Home” is the deathly ballad that can only be pulled off by Ade Blackburn and his frayed asthmatic nerves. Winchester Cathedral may not offer much in terms of creative progression, but that won’t matter once you get on the same wavelength of their mutant pulse.

Megadeth
The System Has Failed
[Sanctuary]

by The Toneknobber

Critics and fans thought the metal band's days were through. Back in early 2002, frontman Dave Mustaine announced his exit from music, following a compressed nerve injury on his left arm that he suffered while in a Texas rehab centre. This comeback album has served to prove them all wrong.

"The System Has Failed" has been described as being "vintage Megadeth" bringing the sound of the band full circle to its glory days with albums such as 1990's "Rust in Peace" and 1985's "Killing Is My Business...And Business Is Good!". The album begins with a newsreel voiceover that launches into the highly charged 'Blackmail The Universe' with double kick drum booms and speed metal guitar mayhem galore.

The album's first single, 'Die Dead Enough' has an eerily infectious chorus, which would have promised an instant hit if released 20 years ago. Mustaine has since gone public with his stake on turning Christian and moving away from the lust-driven and sin-filled lifestyle of the established rock star. He shows this apparently with tracks on the album like 'Shadow of Deth' and 'My Kingdom Come'.

In a recent phone interview with Mustaine, this reviewer was told: " The System Has Failed reminds me alot of the guitar playing around early 1990 and the singing reminds me of my best singing which is currently right now." If you've heard the record, you might tend to agree with Mustaine on this. However, 'The System Has Failed' is the last album to be released under the Megadeth moniker. Mustaine promises more of the same in time to come but under his own name as he embarks on a solo career.