Album Review: Let Love In by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds
Cave deploys familiar themes with precision on his eighth studio album, all accompanied by the best music the Bad Seeds ever recorded.
So, it’s been a while then. After trying to churn out reviews on a weekly basis, and then on a daily one for the Bond films, I managed to lose sight of the fact that these fun reviews were meant to be — wait for it — for fun. This isn’t really important; I just want you to understand that, since my last review, I assumed that it would take an album of exceptional quality to spur me into writing about it — as had been the case after listening to After the Gold Rush. I hadn’t anticipated this happening so soon, but then I heard Let Love In by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds… and it happened.
At around 45 minutes, and with ten songs — five on each side — it feels like what I would call a perfect album, the kind that feels at once symmetrical, fulfilling, and aesthetically pleasing, before even acknowledging the quality of the music itself. It reminds me of The Queen is Dead: ten songs, with a bold and intentioned opener, a self-conscious closing track, and a notable variety of songs in between. It contains a balance of outright masterpieces and enjoyable throwaways, long and short tracks, all tied together with strong lyrical themes and iconic artwork. Speaking of artwork, I think Cave looks like Bowie on the cover, particularly with the red hair around his shoulders, whilst the shades of pink and red perfectly capture the themes of love, lust, obsession, and reflection that adorn these songs.
The album opens with “Do You Love Me (Part 1)”, and straight away — as the fat bassline gives way to a lush mixture of piano and organ — you can hear a newfound confidence in the production. I thoroughly enjoyed the preceding Henry’s Dream, and many others before that, but Let Love In sounds modern and panoramic in a way no other Cave album had yet achieved. Cave’s deep snarl is incredibly confident as he sings the verses, but then I reckon I would sound like that if I was delivering lyrics of such high quality. The chorus is incredibly anthemic, and the music just bursts with energy — The Bad Seeds seem to excel at releasing their controlled fury in such precise bursts. It’s great. There’s no better example of this than “Loverman”. The verses meander over a steady beat, gently rising and falling before Cave gives into his passion and the music just explodes along with him. His acronym during the second breakdown is just perfect: “V is for virtue, so I ain’t gonna hurt you. E is for even if you want me to.” I can’t help but grin every time I hear it.
The other two heavy tracks are of the throwaway variety, with “Jangling Jack” erupting in a burst of pure energy. It never slows down, burning itself up after a few minutes. Cave’s demonic screams after the chorus are genuinely scary, whilst his breathless delivery perfectly matches the pace of the music. The superior of the two, though, is easily “Thirsty Dog”. It has a steady, rockabilly beat — not dissimilar to “Vicar in a Tutu” — but just oozes momentum as Cave lists off his ever-more pathetic apologies. The chorus is unbelievably catchy, with the rising volume of backing vocals (“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’M SORRY”) meeting their match in Cave’s refrain. A definite album highlight.
The ballads are also divided into two rough categories. “Nobody’s Baby Now” leads the more traditional group, with classically evocative lyrics and a beautifully simple melody for Cave to croon over. Better still is “I Let Love In”. Reportedly written in fifteen minutes, it offers a wonderfully comforting chord progression that somehow feels familiar the first time that you hear it. It’s anthemic, beautifully simple, and another highlight on an album seemingly full of them. Speaking of anthemic, “Lay Me Low” feels like the perfect closer — although much like The Queen is Dead, this traditional ending is placed as the penultimate track. It reminds me of “Rock n Roll Suicide”, or maybe “You Feel So Lonely You Could Die”, just a classic Bowie-style ballad that manages to incorporate the emotion of a showstopper without any of the melodrama. I can practically hear Cave spitting as he declares “if you wanna be my friend, and you wanna repent, and you want it all to end” and his performance is all the better for it.
A pair of atmospheric pieces round out the ballads. “Ain’t Gonna Rain Anymore” echoes the slow, moody, feel of his earlier work, but with a hook that slowly manages to worm its way into your brain as the music washes over Cave’s brooding vocals. Then there’s “Do You Love Me (Part 2)”, a reprise of the opening track that closes out the album perfectly. Much like Bowie’s “It’s No Game” — from 1980’s Scary Monsters (and Super Creeps) — it offers a mellow approach to a high-energy opening track, but Cave’s reinterpretation goes even further here. The song is completely transformed, with his cries of lust and passion now sounding like pleas of desperation. Both iterations of the track manage to perfectly fulfill their respective roles, and even though I prefer the opener, this finale is still a fantastic song.
There was a time when I didn’t know about any of the albums that I would now call my favourite. Pieces of music that can elicit such a strong emotional response were, at one point, nothing more than vague sleeves on the shelf of a record shop. That’s such a lie — try “scratched CD sleeves in the That’s Entertainment shop in Old Town”. That’s more like it. Great shop though, they used to do six CDs for a fiver — I bought OK Computer there and it blew my fifteen-year-old mind. Anyway, the point I’m making is that it’s always a surprise when a new album manages to hit all the right notes so effortlessly, to the point when you wonder how on earth you had existed without such incredible music in your life. It’s a feeling that always reasserts my complete love of music, and I’m so grateful for these experiences whenever they happen. Let Love In provided such an experience, and ended as one of my favourite albums of all time.
