A strangely familiar baritone floods the auditorium while the Perth gentry file in, cursing themselves for arriving late and missing the start of the show.
The curses quickly become sighs of relief, realising that the haunting voice is thankfully not Nick Cave. The relief then turns to curiosity, wondering who then, owns this beautifully mysterious voice.
Finally resulting in joy and ecstasy, this emotional chain reaction sweeps through the diverse gathering like toppling dominoes.
Grunge legend Mark Lanegan, oblivious, cruises through a dramatic and gritty vocal dominated performance, relishing the outdoor atmosphere and setting the scene for a very special evening.
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds roll onto the stage from everywhere, all eyes on the unpredictable Cave. It seems like the legendary poet Homer has just appeared to perform his Iliad.
The candlelit Red Hill Auditorium, an ancient coliseum high in the Perth Hills, is a venue worthy of the travelling troubadours.
The Bad Seeds carefully take their positions, resembling a gang of 19th century outlaws about to hijack a Cob & Co coach.
Cave casually welcomes the audience with an unexpected laid back Aussie personality; he is without doubt one of us, even if he doesn’t look it.
Noticing the flashes in the front rows he welcomes the photographers to the stage. Smiling he warns “one song and then you’re gone ok.” The tall, dark stranger is relaxed and enjoying himself already.
If Jim Morrison didn’t “cancel his subscription to the resurrection” he surely would have returned as Nick Cave. Without doubt the coolest “motherfucker” on the planet, an expletive that will feature many times throughout the evening.
Looking far more Eastern European than Country Victorian; a modern day vampire that feasts on the blood of his groupies. How else could one man possess such staggering vitality, groove, eternal youth and eccentric creativity?
Is new song ‘Higgs Boson Blues’ – where Cave tells of a young Robert Johnson, a ten-dollar guitar strapped to his back, selling his soul to Lucifer for a “killer tune” – partially autobiographical?
Whatever the case, his dry wit, irresistible charm, and inhuman stage presence captivates.
‘We Know Who You Are’, from the new album Push The Sky, is the first song of the night. No disrespect to the studio version but the live sound is something very special, so much fuller and heavier.
Perhaps it is the addition of The Saints founder Ed Kuepper on guitar. The slow and heavy sound dominated by Cave’s menacing vocals.
He has the audience in the palm of his hands, smoothly leaning far out into the crowd to hold hands and serenade the ladies, which has every husband, fiancé, father, and boyfriend in the audience suddenly feeling inadequate and sliding a protective arm around partners.Looking far more Eastern European than Country Victorian; a modern day vampire that feasts on the blood of his groupies.
Without pause the band test our grip on reality with the dark insanity of ‘Jubilee Street’. Reaching out to grab us by the throat, the song slowly builds tension as Cave drunkenly staggers around the perimeter of the stage, threatening to fall at any moment, drunk on emotion and passion.
He desperately reaches out to his congregation and connects, arms and legs flailing everywhere. Singing while violently conducting the band and audience with his entire body; a distinctive electric guitar riff enters mid-song and the sound explodes – every one of the Bad Seeds lost in time and space. Pure genius.
Introducing the next song, ‘Wide Lovely Eyes’, Cave stammers, “a song about….um” he concentrates for a moment, trying to remember ”ah, it’s a song” chuckling, leaving the audience to work it out.
More storytelling than song, the pace is mellowed in preparation for the rational absurdity of “Higgs Boson Blues” “This is a long one, can you handle it?”
Thrusting his hips and groin provocatively at the audience to the mesmerising bass line and Freudian lyrics that would have mere mortals cuffed, castrated and marched to the nearest padded cell; this is the universe through Cave’s eyes.
It subtly builds tension and then snapping everyone back to reality with an explosion of drumming and electric guitar.
Then an old classic, the thumping ‘From Her To Eternity’, is a full on assault, the two drummers and bass tearing a hole in the space-time continuum, Cave bellowing out “I wanna tell you bout a girl”
Some more classic grooves follow with ‘Red Right Hand’, Warren Ellis doing the indescribable with the violin, everyone’s attention fixed on that amazing beard.
Cave then asks for requests, mischievous smirk betraying his intentions. Some are shouted; “we’re just gonna play something else anyway,” he teases, “This is ‘Stranger Than Kindness’.”
An acoustic strum introduces ‘Papa Won’t Leave You Henry’, before building layer upon layer into a grungy rock groove, then into what could only be described as an 18th century heavy metal punk folk song. A bizarre medieval knee slapping mosh pit has formed.
Cave towels himself off and sits down at the piano, plays a few strange sounding chords and laughingly announces that he has forgotten how to play.
‘Love Letter’ and ‘Your Funeral My Trial’ follow and Mark Lanegan joins Cave on stage for a duet, the latter announcing his well-justified man-crush on Lanegan.
The set is complete with another dramatic fable, ‘The Mercy Seat’, audience sweating and emotionally exhausted but desperate for more.
The ensemble soon returns to perform ‘Stagger Lee’, Cave firing off motherfuckers like he is sponsored by Motherfucker Cola. Each depraved scene explicitly acted out by the singer; prayer-like vocals conjuring the evil souls of his tortured characters.
As the band and audience stand up and start shuffling, Cave orders everyone to sit back down for a mind-blowing version of new song, ‘Push The Sky Away’.
Without doubt the best live act orbiting the sun.
