Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds The Good Son by: Tim Clare Sun:29-Apr-07 Label: Mute Year: 1990 WB rating 80 out of 100

As I came to the last couple of pages of Louis de Benieres’ Captain Corelli’s Mandolin I cried. This is not an unusual thing for me: a longtime “sook” I’ve cried during My Girl, The Family Stone and some commercials. But it was de Bernieres’ portrayal of Pelagia and Corelli’s lost love that affected me most of all. The Good Son evoked a similar response in me, and again it was the way in which the author explored lost love that stirred me so.

Autobiographical in nature, The Good Son is emotionally charged. Sadness, anger and vengeance are displayed prominently in front of a curtain of love as Nick Cave and The Bad Seeds lunge through nine intensity-fuelled, gut-driven songs. Cave has never shied away from penning his emotions, and it’s on The Good Son where his family and romantic past is brought into the spotlight, packaged under the character “Lucy”.

The album opens with ‘Foi Na Cruz’, a Brazilian church ballad rejoicing the Christian saviour and his earthly work. Religion has always been topical for Cave as he has grappled with its place in his life, stemming from his early involvement in the church and church based school activities. The music is rich and polished but it purposefully fails to emotionally stir in great depth – the repetition and melancholy giving cues to his time in the choir stands where music was more about rote than purposeful dedicated worship.

‘The Good Son’ falls out of the tribal simplicity of ‘Foi Na Cruz’ erupting in menacing glory. Cave and his band fill the empty space left by the previous track with blood-curdling wailing, thrashing xylophones, hostile fretwork and ivory bashing in a rush of sweat and tears of anger.  Family life was far from rosy for Cave, and framing himself as “The Good Son” he angrily thinks back to his relationship with his relations: “Yet he worships his brother/And he worships his mother/But it’s his father, he says, is an unfair man”. The sheer terror and anger of the verses momentarily subside as Cave cries out, huddled in the corner, but backed by the voices of his mates and their sweeping strings: “The good son/The good son/The good son/The good son”. The song continues through this anger and despair, chorus and verse progression until it culminates in Cave’s resolve “One more man is gone” – something has to give.

It’s easy to listen to The Good Son on the surface and not fully connect with Cave’s true intentions. I initially listened to it in the background – in the car, at work or while washing the dishes – and saw it as loud and fairly straight down the line. But it wasn’t until I allowed myself to be exclusively drawn into The Good Son that I began to understand it. It was at this point where the tears started to well. 

‘Sorrow’s Child’ is possibly the best song on The Good Son. Cave filled with desperation – deflated and drained from the emotional barrage of family life – sits on the banks of the river with death on his mind: part of himself, Cave’s Lucy, must be surrendered. The music is beautiful, flowing upon dark storm clouds of Cave’s piano and a team of srting wielding Brazilians; Mick Harvey and Blixa Bargeld play the part of Cave’s consciousness, urging him on with their breathy “Sorrow’s Child”. Cave, dutifully responds by completing the call and response: “Sorrows Child grieves not what has passed/But all the past has yet to come” – Cave puts Lucy, the character that envelopes his family and romantic failures, to death, knowing that unless he does so, he will go under with her. The loud dynamic of the piano pierces the listener’s heart, with the strings arriving over the top, easing the wound where a part, once innate, has been ripped away.

‘The Weeping Song’ and ‘The Ship Song’ follow the traditional mourning process. ‘The Weeping Song’ is Cave’s internal dialogue as he deals with the loss of Lucy: one part of him feels as if there is no tomorrow and the sadness is so immense that it is paralysing, the other a more realistic voice: “true weeping is yet to come”. It’s morose and brooding, which lures the listener into a false emotional state before the sheer beauty of ‘The Ship Song’. The single is an obituary, as The Bad Seeds provide a cappella choir support for their mate. Cave is bereaved but lovingly looks back in memory: “But when I crawl into your arms/Everything comes tumbling down”.

The album finishes of in a flurry of different emotions, true mourning behaviour. On ‘The Hammer Song’, Cave props himself up in his grief, and combines the sadness that he wallows in with anger. Big bold percussion and a xylophone melody straight out of Get Smart provide the musical structure as Cave replays his loss. His inner-voice of reason is back again on ‘Lament’, trying desperately to draw him out of this state: “Come dry your eyes and turn your hand away” are the urges of a consciousness that is fatigued from mourning, one that misses the normality of being, prior to the loss of Lucy.

The result is religion, but a different religion of ‘Foi Na Cruz’. Charismatic worship is the basis of ‘The Witness Song’, American gospel style healing, arms raised in praise, with everyone witnessing to everyone. Cave turns to the faith healer to seal his wounds, to lull him out of the state of lament, but futility is all that he finds: “Who will be the witness/When you’re all too healed to see”. It’s a rollicking tune, with a superb mid-section and Cave grappling for answers.

Conclusively Cave realises that there will be no resolution. Sadness, like regret, is now a part of his makeup. In ‘Lucy’, Cave sees a vision before him surrounded by beautiful strings and angelic piano. He cries out to her saying: “Lucy, can you hear me when I cry and cry”. It’s a languishing ending, but the strength of the musical epilogue gives the impression that this vision will carry him through his days – the final sound is of Cave strolling along, harmonica in hand, a gleam of contentment shining through his tears.

The Good Son is a rich, emotionally rewarding and diverse album. It requires a distinctive mood and uncompromised attention; however when it is afforded these luxuries The Good Son will reward time and time again. Just make sure you have a box of Kleenex handy.