Josiah surprised me a few days ago by finagling tickets to the sold-out Nick Cave show that was Monday night. What a gem he is. (Josiah, not Nick Cave).
We went last night, and waited through the very self consciously-crazy-hillbilly-punk opener so we could maintain our amazing space right up at the front of the stage. There were not seats, obviously, but imagine that we were in the 4th row (if there had been seats), so, super-close. Mr. Cave and his Bad Seeds came out eventually, and the pushing and bad behavior was rampant. People just ain't no good. But Nick Cave himself was electric with sinister energy and sporting a ridiculous mustache and I was buying what he had to sell. I'm not too crazy about their newest album, but the two opening songs (both of which were from the new record, Dig, Lazarus, Dig!) were overpoweringly good live. Truthfully, I find many of Nick Cave's albums to generally be really uneven experiences for me, so I was just hoping there would be enough of what I love to balance out the other.
However, as the set list progressed, the sheer loudness really started to get to me, as well as the religious Nick-fans that were pushing drunkenly and sweatily, passionately dancing. I started to feel like I have just before I've fainted in the past, so I grabbed Josiah and decided it wasn't worth the potential for passing-out to stay so close to the swaggering man on stage with a dyed mustache. I had to admit defeat.
We made our way all the way to the far-far back and listened to the rest from there. I feel like such an old lady, because Nick Cave's speakers, fans, and persona...they just kicked my ass. I'm glad that we went, I just wasn't prepared to be put through the ringer. All of his semi-somber records over the last ten years lulled me into thinking I could handle it.
I think I would be wise to stick with Tom Waits in the future.