Review: Nick Cave Alone at Alexandra Palace
It feels a little strange to review a pre-recorded and streamed show that the rest of you won't be able to see (since they've said this won't be later released, but who knows). But isn't that the thing about live shows, to capture something ephemeral the might not come again? I think so.
Because of the ongoing pandemic, live shows are in short supply. The news of that Cave would stream an intimate show delighted me, mostly because The Bad Seeds' performance in Copenhagen this May was postponed. This is not a stream from his bedroom as he sits in his pajamas – he’s in a Gucci suit at the grand Alexandra Palace in London.
Whereas many artists have done live streams from the comfort of their homes during lockdown, Cave does something different this time around. This is an intimate concert in a majestic setting.
To make the most of it, I hooked the stream up to my TV and surround system, and the performance is nothing short of exquisite. The production alone was well worth the price of admission.
The setting is sparse and beautiful. By using the space and natural light in Alexandra Palace's West Hall, cinematographer Robbie Ryan (The Favourite, Marriage Story, American Honey) frames the performance in a multitude of ways. This keeps things interesting, despite it being a one-man show.
Editor Nick Emerson (Lady Macbeth, Emma, Greta) shifts between using jump-cuts and just letting the camera roll in-between songs, keeping you on your toes. The shots focus on the place, Cave's face lost to the music, the stillness of the silence, and his hands adorned with golden rings as they play across the keys.
Cave and the West Hall are bathed in light – from shades of blue to hues of red and yellow – encompassing the mood of the pieces. Much like the use of color, Cave casts his songs in a new light as he sits in solitude at the piano.
Cave kicks it off with a spoken word segment (“Spinning Song” from last years’ Ghosteen). Besides a new song (the short but beautiful “Euthanasia”), the setlist ranges from deep-dives in his catalog and fan-favorites.
I was delighted to hear two of my favorites from Stranger Than Kindness (the title track and "Sad Waters"), and it's especially interesting to hear these renditions of the two Grinderman songs "Palaces of Montezuma" and "Man in the Moon." The Grinderman project was a display of garage-rock force, so to hear these songs in a stripped-down format is excellent.
With only a piano and his voice at his disposal, the lyrics are put at the forefront, and it's as clear as ever that Cave has always been a wordsmith, and it's especially apparent in this setting. He has changed out some words, and some songs are either compressed or elongated.
For example, the incredible "Higgs Boson Blues" really needs a band to soar, but here he shortens it a bit, and instead decides to riff a little on the last line "You're the best girl I ever had," repeating it for a few times, and ending it with a new line: "…bar none." It's a small thing, but it's what makes a concert like this so engaging for the hardcore fans.
Some songs are made with the piano in mind – like many of the cuts from The Boatman's Call – so to hear full-band rackets like "The Mercy Seat" and "Papa Won't Leave You, Henry" in this setting makes them take on a new form. Though favorite "Jubilee Street" doesn't transform into cacophony like it does with a full band, the dynamics he employs here has a similar effect.
His voice goes from a whisper to a sneer and to a shout. Sometimes he appears as the gloomiest wedding singer ever. At times he's a mischievous piano man. Often he channels the ghost of Leonard Cohen with his poetry and his voice alone. Whichever way the songs take him, they all coalesce surprisingly well in this format, and it's a testament to his immense songwriting skills.
Though many of the songs are dark and sorrowful (as one expects – it's Nick Cave, after all), he balances it with tunes of levity and spontaneity. At the end of "(Are You) The One That I've Been Waiting For?" he cracks a smile and laughs.
After a beautiful rendition of "Galleon Ship," he gets up from his seat and strides from the piano towards the exit. His shadow is elongated by the ray of daylight cast from the door. And with his cool swagger, this tall, dark-haired man walks from the West Hall's solitude into the light. It's a transporting image, looking as if he's entering another dimension – a light at the end of the tunnel that is the pandemic and this world rife of divisiveness.
Art is a unifying power, and getting together to hear songs and words that resonate with us makes us realize that we are not alone. Nick Cave might sit alone by his piano, but as he steps into the radiance, it seems like a symbol and reminder of the unifying powers of music. After all, we've all watched this show together, albeit in different time zones. But with music, we're all there for one ephemeral moment.