Taking his rakish figure back to the swamp, Grinderman sees Nick Cave getting all primitive on our ass - with an album that somehow succeeds in channeling the menace of early Birthday Party, then distills it down to a visceral core from which the band (mainly members of his Bad Seeds backers) then grow. Led throughout by Caves bold and underlined guitar work, 'Grinderman' is a caustic record that leaves you in no doubt of its authors intentions; i.e. to confront the enemy head on and leave them reeling from the sheer intensity of what's howling through the speakers. Kicking off with the polemical 'Get It On', Grinderman whip up a squall of glam riffs that circle wantonly above Cave's "words of wisdom" - building to a finale that is acidic in the extreme and features a diatribe on evolution, some disjointed rhythms and the self proclamation of being the type of person who "drank panther piss and f*cked the girls you're probably married to". As introductions go, this is as brusque, representative and starkly nihilistic as you could possibly want. And then some. Always an artist who could walk the fine line between genuine menace and mustached parody, Nick Cave is widely regarded with blanket respect and Q-endorsed credentials - yet where this could lead some artists up a Stanley Road, Cave is in no mood for mellowing as he hits 50. Instead we're treated to Cave confronting his middle-age on 'No Pussy Blues' with utter conviction; shouting "I combed the hairs across my head, I sucked in my gut and still she said she just didn't want to" whilst out back a loose chunk of feedback bounces around the pounding drums, serrated riffs and tumbling composition with sardonic wit and terse attitude. By the time Cave is reduced to domestic servitude in order to get some action ("I fixed the hinges on her gate! I did her dishes in rubber gloves! Still she just didn't want to!") there's no doubting his own self awareness and willingness to toy with misconceptions concerning the seriousness of the 'murder ballad' image that hangs around his neck. Moving on, the splintered edges and angular corners may still dominate - but Cave ensures that there are moments of distinct light amongst the dark belly-laughs and shadowy alcoves - as the likes of 'Grinderman' unite crunching guitars with ethereal grace, 'Man In The Moon' presents a pathos heavy ballad with nods to Lou Reed, whilst 'Go Tell The Woman' is a lithe piece full of dead-pan vocals and borderline Hawaiian guitar. Ground!
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Taking his rakish figure back to the swamp, Grinderman sees Nick Cave getting all primitive on our ass - with an album that somehow succeeds in channeling the menace of early Birthday Party, then distills it down to a visceral core from which the band (mainly members of his Bad Seeds backers) then grow. Led throughout by Caves bold and underlined guitar work, 'Grinderman' is a caustic record that leaves you in no doubt of its authors intentions; i.e. to confront the enemy head on and leave them reeling from the sheer intensity of what's howling through the speakers. Kicking off with the polemical 'Get It On', Grinderman whip up a squall of glam riffs that circle wantonly above Cave's "words of wisdom" - building to a finale that is acidic in the extreme and features a diatribe on evolution, some disjointed rhythms and the self proclamation of being the type of person who "drank panther piss and f*cked the girls you're probably married to". As introductions go, this is as brusque, representative and starkly nihilistic as you could possibly want. And then some. Always an artist who could walk the fine line between genuine menace and mustached parody, Nick Cave is widely regarded with blanket respect and Q-endorsed credentials - yet where this could lead some artists up a Stanley Road, Cave is in no mood for mellowing as he hits 50. Instead we're treated to Cave confronting his middle-age on 'No Pussy Blues' with utter conviction; shouting "I combed the hairs across my head, I sucked in my gut and still she said she just didn't want to" whilst out back a loose chunk of feedback bounces around the pounding drums, serrated riffs and tumbling composition with sardonic wit and terse attitude. By the time Cave is reduced to domestic servitude in order to get some action ("I fixed the hinges on her gate! I did her dishes in rubber gloves! Still she just didn't want to!") there's no doubting his own self awareness and willingness to toy with misconceptions concerning the seriousness of the 'murder ballad' image that hangs around his neck. Moving on, the splintered edges and angular corners may still dominate - but Cave ensures that there are moments of distinct light amongst the dark belly-laughs and shadowy alcoves - as the likes of 'Grinderman' unite crunching guitars with ethereal grace, 'Man In The Moon' presents a pathos heavy ballad with nods to Lou Reed, whilst 'Go Tell The Woman' is a lithe piece full of dead-pan vocals and borderline Hawaiian guitar. Ground!
Taking his rakish figure back to the swamp, Grinderman sees Nick Cave getting all primitive on our ass - with an album that somehow succeeds in channeling the menace of early Birthday Party, then distills it down to a visceral core from which the band (mainly members of his Bad Seeds backers) then grow. Led throughout by Caves bold and underlined guitar work, 'Grinderman' is a caustic record that leaves you in no doubt of its authors intentions; i.e. to confront the enemy head on and leave them reeling from the sheer intensity of what's howling through the speakers. Kicking off with the polemical 'Get It On', Grinderman whip up a squall of glam riffs that circle wantonly above Cave's "words of wisdom" - building to a finale that is acidic in the extreme and features a diatribe on evolution, some disjointed rhythms and the self proclamation of being the type of person who "drank panther piss and f*cked the girls you're probably married to". As introductions go, this is as brusque, representative and starkly nihilistic as you could possibly want. And then some. Always an artist who could walk the fine line between genuine menace and mustached parody, Nick Cave is widely regarded with blanket respect and Q-endorsed credentials - yet where this could lead some artists up a Stanley Road, Cave is in no mood for mellowing as he hits 50. Instead we're treated to Cave confronting his middle-age on 'No Pussy Blues' with utter conviction; shouting "I combed the hairs across my head, I sucked in my gut and still she said she just didn't want to" whilst out back a loose chunk of feedback bounces around the pounding drums, serrated riffs and tumbling composition with sardonic wit and terse attitude. By the time Cave is reduced to domestic servitude in order to get some action ("I fixed the hinges on her gate! I did her dishes in rubber gloves! Still she just didn't want to!") there's no doubting his own self awareness and willingness to toy with misconceptions concerning the seriousness of the 'murder ballad' image that hangs around his neck. Moving on, the splintered edges and angular corners may still dominate - but Cave ensures that there are moments of distinct light amongst the dark belly-laughs and shadowy alcoves - as the likes of 'Grinderman' unite crunching guitars with ethereal grace, 'Man In The Moon' presents a pathos heavy ballad with nods to Lou Reed, whilst 'Go Tell The Woman' is a lithe piece full of dead-pan vocals and borderline Hawaiian guitar. Ground!
Taking his rakish figure back to the swamp, Grinderman sees Nick Cave getting all primitive on our ass - with an album that somehow succeeds in channeling the menace of early Birthday Party, then distills it down to a visceral core from which the band (mainly members of his Bad Seeds backers) then grow. Led throughout by Caves bold and underlined guitar work, 'Grinderman' is a caustic record that leaves you in no doubt of its authors intentions; i.e. to confront the enemy head on and leave them reeling from the sheer intensity of what's howling through the speakers. Kicking off with the polemical 'Get It On', Grinderman whip up a squall of glam riffs that circle wantonly above Cave's "words of wisdom" - building to a finale that is acidic in the extreme and features a diatribe on evolution, some disjointed rhythms and the self proclamation of being the type of person who "drank panther piss and f*cked the girls you're probably married to". As introductions go, this is as brusque, representative and starkly nihilistic as you could possibly want. And then some. Always an artist who could walk the fine line between genuine menace and mustached parody, Nick Cave is widely regarded with blanket respect and Q-endorsed credentials - yet where this could lead some artists up a Stanley Road, Cave is in no mood for mellowing as he hits 50. Instead we're treated to Cave confronting his middle-age on 'No Pussy Blues' with utter conviction; shouting "I combed the hairs across my head, I sucked in my gut and still she said she just didn't want to" whilst out back a loose chunk of feedback bounces around the pounding drums, serrated riffs and tumbling composition with sardonic wit and terse attitude. By the time Cave is reduced to domestic servitude in order to get some action ("I fixed the hinges on her gate! I did her dishes in rubber gloves! Still she just didn't want to!") there's no doubting his own self awareness and willingness to toy with misconceptions concerning the seriousness of the 'murder ballad' image that hangs around his neck. Moving on, the splintered edges and angular corners may still dominate - but Cave ensures that there are moments of distinct light amongst the dark belly-laughs and shadowy alcoves - as the likes of 'Grinderman' unite crunching guitars with ethereal grace, 'Man In The Moon' presents a pathos heavy ballad with nods to Lou Reed, whilst 'Go Tell The Woman' is a lithe piece full of dead-pan vocals and borderline Hawaiian guitar. Ground!