Nick Cave has confirmed that he and Warren Ellis will write the soundtrack to John Hillcoats forthcoming film adaptation of Cormac McCarthy's The Road.
Melbourne’s favourite experimental, instrumental, indie-folkists The Dirty Three make a welcome return to Dublin for an intimate show in Whelans on Wednesday December 9.
By day he's Nick Cave's trusty lieutenant, but Conway Savage is also spreading his wings as a solo artist, tipping his hat to James Joyce along the way.
With his gangly arms flailing wildly in the air as he opened with 'West Country Girl', Nick Cave was reminiscent of a ringmaster harkening the crowds to his bark.
Primal Scream bandmate Kevin Shields may be complaining about the neighbours, but Mani hasn’t thrown the towel in yet. He tells us why things are looking up for the Scream.
At the ripe old age of 50, when most of his peers are floundering in the doldrums, Nick Cave has hit a purple patch with Dig, Lazarus, Dig!!!, his most commercially successful and critically acclaimed album to date.
Here’s the pitch. Take one ’60s pin-up turned crawler from the ’70s wreckage turned Weimar Republican and furnish her with a body of songs drawn from co-writes with and original compositions by PJ Harvey and Nick Cave.
While women are still far from achieving equality of opportunity in music, the last thing women artists want – or need – is to be ghettoised, writes musician and journalist Kim V Porcelli. The point about the women who are at rock’s cutting edge – from Sinéad O’Connor through PJ Harvey to Peaches – is that they defer to no one in their pursuit of greatness.
Senile old men, feline old women, pillars of society, killers in search of notoriety and "a guy wearing plastic antlers [who] presses his bum against the glass." Times may change, empires may rise and fall, but the characters who populate Nick Cave's world remain as lunatic as ever.
Senile old men, feline old women, pillars of society, killers in search of notoriety and "a guy wearing plastic antlers [who] presses his bum against the glass." Times may change, empires may rise and fall, but the characters who populate Nick Cave's world remain as lunatic as ever.
The godfather of the modern Irish gothic tradition, Patrick McCabe, has released what critics are hailing as his darkest, and arguably finest, novel yet, Winterwood.
Senile old men, feline old women, pillars of society, killers in search of notoriety and *a guy wearing plastic antlers [who] presses his bum against the glass.* Times may change, empires may rise and fall, but the characters who populate Nick Cave's world remain as lunatic as ever.
Here’s the deal. You can have the full bells-and-whistles Nick & the Bad Seeds production with all its attendant kinetics and dynamics, staged in a high-ceilinged cow palace or festival tent, or you can take your chances on the more roughshod and ragged-gloried variety up close and in your face in Vicar St, which isn’t nearly as slick but affords plenty of rarified moments.
From dark age to middle age, Nick Cave is such a far cry from the blood-spilling junkie of rock legend that these days you’re likely to encounter him commuting to his 9 to 5. Except of course that his job is writing and making music, his new album is called Nocturama and there are, he admits, some sizeable blow-outs in the memory banks.
Maverick genius or away with the fairies? Peter Murphy travels to North-East Scotland to meet Mike Scott at home in the spiritual Findhorn community where The Waterboys’ latest album was written and recorded. And Steve Wickham explains how he left and rejoined the band.
I’d caution the casuals, but if you are a fan then dive straight in. You’ll love this rich stew of subtle pleasures and nocturnes that’ll ferment and season with each listening.
