Impressions from Nick Cave’s Sportpaleis concert

Long live Nick Cave! He came out of the wings of the Sportpaleis in better spirits than ever before – he checked himself in the mirror to make sure he wasn’t, by accident, Dirk De Wachter – before shaking yet another life-changing concert out of the tight sleeves of his black suit jacket.

Nick Cave had come to the Sportpaleis to present his new album ‘Wild God’. The two words of the title immediately encapsulate the entire evolution of the artist: from his early years as an impossible Berlin junkie (wild) to the wise saviour he is today (God). ‘Wild God’ is also the last album in his trilogy of mourning, after ‘Skeleton Tree’ and ‘Ghosteen’ – the conclusion of a merciless chapter in his life. Fortunately, unlike the previous two albums, Cave does shed the veil of sorrow this time. ‘Wild God’ has something triumphant live. This is the ray of sunshine after the dark night, the liberation after the fires of hell, a celebration of life. Some people just thought it was a boring album. That’s possible.

Cave started with ‘Frogs’, by far the second best song entitled ‘Frogs’ that was released in 2024 (after Bolis Pupul’s). Cave, that rousing shaman, immediately started rushing from left to right. Everyone wanted to touch him, they stretched out their fingers to him like thirsty people for a glass of water. If he asked for money for a laying on of hands, he would be richer than Elon Musk.

‘Frogs’ was the start of a fairly crushing beginning. The title track ‘Wild God’, which began on the grand piano and ended in the stratosphere, immediately proved that Cave, in financial need, could always build a career as an evil American televangelist. (Look how the audience yearns for him!) The end of that song (‘BRING YOUR SPIRIT DOWN!’) was pure ecstasy. Equally impressive: the name-dropping ‘Jubilee Street’, a song that also ended in a gratifying catharsis. Live, Cave is at his best in the last part of a song: his songs don’t fizzle out, they explode.

Cave had barely gotten to ‘Song of the Lake’ when his tie had to be loosened. He used a white towel to wipe the stage clean (which has to happen) and was thrown a bouquet. A few songs later – happy to see that the old grumpy Cave is still alive – he simply threw it back into the audience.

Best linking line? The one with ‘O Children’. ‘I wrote this song 22 years ago, when I saw my children playing. It’s a dark, uncompromising song about the world we’re leaving behind for them, about our failure to protect children everywhere on earth – unfortunately a relevant theme. But okay, will you sing along?’

There was some grumbling about Cave beforehand. Some people think that with his latest records, ‘Ghosteen’ in particular, he’s reached a downright transcendent level, others are nostalgic for the time when the Bad Seeds were still really Bad, when guitars were allowed to rumble, when you had to be careful not to prick yourself on used needles lying around at a Nick Cave concert. I don’t know if I necessarily belong to camp two, and I have nothing against the dreamy creative path of supreme Seed Warren Ellis, who by the way is starting to resemble Moondog more and more every day, but I do know that my biggest highlights tonight, apart from a heartbreaking ‘Bright Horses’, all came from earlier work. And oh boy, what highlights!

‘From Her to Eternity’ was, as always, a sing-along anthem. Not for sports palaces, but for squats, circus tents and limbos of hell. There was more of a threatening malice simmering in that song than ever before: love it. A slowly building ‘Red Right Hand’ ended in a massive, ‘Seven Nation Army’-like singalong. ‘Tupelo’ was downright aggressive, as it should sound. But I was happiest when Cave not only pulled out ‘Papa Won’t Leave You, Henry’ in the encore (habbahabba!), but also ‘The Weeping Song’, the very first Cave song I ever loved. Those old songs remain twelve-carat hits that brought impetuosity, daring and dirty rock-’n-roll to the set tonight.

A question for human resources: if Nick Cave picks songs from thirteen different records, but not from ‘Murder Ballads’, is he just doing it to annoy me?

When he softly struck the last notes of ‘Into My Arms’ solo behind his piano, you could only think: this is a really big one? Leaving, he looked ten times happier than a few years ago. There is a spring in his step again, life no longer has to weigh a thousand kilos. Which way would he go now? The one of more beauty and more light? Or the one of the rock-’n-roll danger of the past?

I had a comforting thought on my way home. When we die, we either go to heaven or hell, right? But whatever it is, I am sure: in both places they will be listening to the music of Nick Cave, savior and antichrist in one handy value package.