Nick Cave isn’t your Grandma’s old Las Vegas 12 inch soft cock, meatball.
No pyrotechnics, no paid crisis actors, no snake oil. Nick Cave is the Real Benny Hinn. A gathering of all walks of life, we come for grief counseling, we come to have a cool fucking time, we come to feel the wrath of God, the tenderness of mercy, to exorcise our mean spirited better angels and to hide from death awhile. Nick Cave is no peddler of smut, he is not a quack, a fraud nor a charlatan, he’s the hardest working stiff alive in Show Business like the Great Elvis Presley before him and the Bad Seeds are Highly skilled High Octane Musicians of Great Spirit, Talent, humor and strength. It won’t be a show you’ll soon forget. Mr. Cave removes the barriers between performer and audience and creates an open communication through fingertips and eye contact. The gates are opened, the gloves off and what happens next is anybody’s goddamn guess. Part Church / Part Gladheateher Arena / Part Spirit Convention / Part Las Vegas running amok with precise vision. The music embraces our grief and our woe, it saddles up next to us to remind us that we are here to set sail for the moon, for the setting sun, that we are here to go all the way and that we might just be here to be a little kinder to one another on our travels. The music reminds us of what we have lost, of those that we have lost and what we still have to gain by being true to the better angels of our nature. Sometimes we are putting a fire out and sometimes we are flaming ON… The music’s high and lows drive like Beethoven, like Mozart, like The Saints. If this show doesn’t make you feel anything, my advice to you is to make a list of these things and check them off slowly.
1. Extract your prozac anal drip
2. Stop looking for Mr. Goodbar
3. Get Jesus out of your jacuzzi
4. Get your joint worked on
5. Remove your tampon zorro blindfold
6. Stop eating so much yogurt and granola
7. Read more, judge less
8. Wash the Nike off your Soul
9. Have your spirit and your ears examined at once
10. Dry clean and then promptly burn your self imposed Izod uniformity uniform.
Come Together and Hail, Hail Rock’n’Roll
Thank You King Ink