No More Shall We Part

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.

No More Shall We Part is Dr Doom's eleventh studio album since The Birthday Party ceased operations. From the off it's clear he has no intention of abandoning the rich musical seam he hit on The Boatman's Call. The first sounds are those of urgent strings and an ominously tinkling piano, together presaging the entrance of Cave's familiar, sonorous tones.

So what's new? Violinist Warren Ellis of Dirty Three, who has been a live collaborator of Cave's for some time, has now ascended to full Bad Seed status. His discordant style lends extra febrility to the main man's most crazed moments. An expansive string section arranged by Ellis and Mick Harvey further complements many tracks, while the McGarrigle sisters, Kate and Anna, are the unlikely-until-you-think-about-it backing vocalists.

Significant though these developments are, No More Shall We Part derives its real freshness and resonance from the lyrical themes that run through it. When the singer refers to the missive which gives 'Love Letter' its title as *a plea, a petition, a kind of prayer,* he could be describing the album itself.

These songs see Cave immerse himself more thoroughly than ever in the unholy water of spooked folk and blues. Death, hellfire and the Lawd are all central to the lexicon, but signs of redemption or divine intervention are scarce. Some of the protagonists bawl at God in despair; others insist on His omnipotence only to crack in the face of their reality.

The album's title track at first seems to suggest optimism. In fact, it is a dark tale of a failed marriage in which the narrator gradually crumbles, first into doubt (*Lord, stay by me/Don't go down/I will never be free/If I'm not free now*) and then into disorientation and gloom (*I never was free/What are you talking about?*). A similar atmosphere pervades 'Fifteen Feet Of Pure White Snow' and 'Oh My Lord'. 'God Is In The House' represents a different take on the same ideas.

No More Shall We Part isn't all Biblical blues and brimstone balladry, however. 'The Sorrowful Wife', a song thick with post-infidelity tension, reaches its halfway mark before restraint gives way to rage - guitars, drums and violins buck and crash violently while Cave pleads for forgiveness of the human variety.

If the album has a weakness, it is the occasional tendency for the songwriting to fall into a Nick-by-numbers carelessness. 'Sweetheart Come' is the worst offender by some distance.

But when Cave is at his best, he is breathtaking. 'Love Letter' is an unalloyed hymn of longing, stellar in its beauty; the penultimate 'Gates To The Garden' is solemnly wonderful.

No More Shall We Part has madness and morbidity in abundance. Alongside them it has grace, longing and poetry. It isn't a masterpiece. But it's a great Nick Cave album.

Black and magical.