Grinderman - Grinderman

There is something I need to get off my chest.  It may be paltry, my revelation that is, but it must be said before I can proceed any further.

Nick Cave could very well record himself belching into a microphone for hours on end and I would happily pay a hefty premium to hear the resulting sound.  For the twos and threes of you who may not already know, the effort would result in moody, brooding burps that would speak volumes about the human condition, about love and loss and every conceivable emotion that lies in between.  Yes, dear reader, all this from a simple burp.  He could club homeless people to death and the tortured mewl would be a melancholic paean that would mend fractured hearts, cure AIDS, and single-handedly reverse the effects of global warming.  It’s safe to say that in my world Cave occupies the position of Supreme Being and omniscient ruler of the universe.   Still with me?   

Grinderman, Cave’s current side project, is essentially a slimmed down version of the Bad Seeds with Warren Ellis, Martyn Casey and Jim Sclavunos at his side to form an anaemic representation of the Birthday Party.  Despite the promise of a return to the Birthday Party’s primordial punk rock swampland, Grinderman’s retrained self titled debut merely offers a slight hint of a young Cave’s ‘Nick the Stripper’ cocksure swagger amid the Bad Seed’s customarily dark and sombre melodies. 

Not that it’s bad, in fact, it’s quite an accomplished effort but one can only wonder how absorbing the result would have been if Cave had pushed a little further into his post-punk roots to effectively deliver those dense, atonal, no wave rhythms he had promised. 

This shift towards a raw and more primal sound is immediately confirmed in the bluesy Get It On with its grinding guitars and Cave’s gentle preacher like cadence that commands you to listen to his words in spite of the surrounding din.  It’s an abrasive and caustic song and is exactly what rock and roll should be about; it follows no formula (the music is a by-product of improvisation in the studio) and the resulting songs have an organic, rough hewn sound.  No Pussy Blues continues the swaggering grind and roll premise with fuzzed up guitar and a grating vocal that builds into an angry invective as Cave catalogues his futile attempts to woo the object of his affection; ‘I changed the sheets on my bed, I combed the hairs across my head, I sucked in my gut and still she said, That she just didn’t want to.‘

There’s no room here for Cave’s characteristically poetic prose.  It’s a ballsy, archetypal rock song but it’s delivered with tongue placed firmly in cheek and this, by some means, manages to redeem the mediocre lyrics.  Cave’s efforts at song writing are rather primal and basic, at times even laughable, but it’s an inconsequential digression on an album that doesn’t take itself too seriously. 

The punk influences come to the fore with the brash proto-punk guitar riff of Love Bomb which sounds like it was lifted straight from The Stooges’ Fun House (not surprising considering Cave once proclaimed it to be ‘the greatest rock record ever made’) despite the waggish lyrics which bemoan ‘I’ve been listening to Woman’s Hour, I’ve been listening to Garden Question Time, But everything I try to grow, I can’t even grow a dandelion.’ 

The album, which starts with a growl, segues into a blues infused rock on Depth Charge Ethel and then peters off into a smooth, melody driven affair.   It’s quite telling that the more accomplished songs which Grinderman have to offer are the ones that sound the most like a Bad Seeds effort.  The hypnotic and almost mournful Electric Alice (in part a nod to jazz legends Alice Coltrane and Larry Young) and the haunting melody of Man in the Moon, with a disconsolate Cave’s anguished vocal that is practically heart-rending, offer an unexpected tenderness that tempers the dissonant, emblematic rock which characterises the album’s first half.

This is the kind of release that threatens to cause internal haemorrhaging, if the melancholic ballads haven’t already managed to fracture your heart – and with Cave at the helm you wouldn’t expect it to be any other way.   This is what rock and roll should be.  It’s raw and dirty and ear splitting in places but it’s a highly original offering that deviates from the easy option of derivative, revivalist rock.  It’s a blues infused rock ‘n’ roll, a strutting and swaggering grind ‘n’ roll, and what’s even better is that Grinderman didn’t have to appropriate Iggy Pop’s bass line to get there, nor did Cave have to suck in that gut or comb over those irksome hairs to win you over.