A powerful, emotional and life-affirming show from the untouchable Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds.

The summer of 2024 was not a pleasant one for me. I’ve always been prone to dizzy spells and bouts of vertigo, but in June, just after seeing Liam Gallagher on his “Definitely Maybe” tour, I fell into a few weeks of hellish tinnitus and room-spinning dizziness. I was largely immobilised for a good spell of time and actually started to try and reconcile myself with the thought that I may never be able to experience live music again, for the sake of my hearing and vestibular system.

Gradually I improved, and by November, I was ready to dip my toes into the gigging water again. First there was a low key, non-eardrum-testing instore gig from Wendy James. But the real test was this evening at the O2. In fact, so uncertain was I at my ability to last a whole O2 gig with my health and balance intact that I put off buying a ticket until the night before, when a few glasses of wine pressed the ‘just do it!’ button in my brain and I bought the ticket.

So it was with both excitement and trepidation that I made my way to the O2 to see Nick Cave for the 10th time. From my diary: ‘Once in I sidled up to the front, about three rows back to the far right of the stage, very near where I was for Liam Gallagher in ’21 actually. I put my earplugs in and hoped I was not taking too much of a risk by being so close to the front.’

Support came from Black Country New Road, who I noted were ‘completely unknown to me but an enjoyable troupe of boys and girls all in folksy green, red and white costumes, and tunes of 70s hippy whimsy, harmonies and unpredictable tunefulness with surprise recorder and saxophone interludes.’

In the half hour between their set and Nick, I found myself thinking of all the times I’ve been in that position before, in the heart of a crowd (or the edges), counting the minutes until a band takes the stage, brimming with adrenaline and excitement. And more pertinently, as I was staring my 50th birthday in the face in a few months’ time, with health issues becoming more and more of a hindrance, I wondered how many more times might I find myself in this same position?

In the words of the aforementioned Liam: It’s getting late, but there’s still time.

The Bad Seeds came on at 8.30, the rest of the band first, then Nick, walking on towards the microphone from the other side of the stage to where I was standing, to the gliding, soaring intro to “Frogs”. He starting singing: “frogs are jumping in the gutters, leaping to God amazed of love, amazed of pain, amazed to be back in the water again“.

After the summer I’d spent fearing I might never be able to find myself in this position again, in a crowd watching one of my most beloved bands, I too felt a bit like a frog amazed to be back in the water again, the glorious water of the crowd and the music. I felt my throat vibrating with emotion, not for the only time that evening. But unlike at the Royal Albert Hall show from Nick in October 2021, I never broke down fully. This night was overwhelmingly about joy.

For this gig, the barrier had been modified with a ledge all along it, and this was where Nick performed for a large part of the evening, striding all along the length of the crowd, often singing directly to the front rows. Mostly he stayed towards the other side of the throng from where I was, but wherever he was on the ledge my view was incredible, watching him enthral the crowd with each step.

As I noted in my diary: ‘Nick was Nick in his skinny suit, engaging preacher-like with the crowd, but instead of a message of submission to a higher power, it was all about life, humanity, the dirt and the dark and the light and the joy that connects us all.‘

As for the songs, everything from “Wild God” was immaculate. This wonderful album seems set free from the grief of the previous few, resigned and resolute in both the darkness and light, the gospel choir propelling you into the light whether you like it or not.

As for older songs, “O Children” was an early highlight. Always a favourite of mine, it has of course gained a new cultural meaning due to its inclusion in “Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Part 1”. “Sing along, you’ve all seen the fucking Harry Potter films” said Nick, prompting some boos from the crowd. As an avid fan of the Wizarding World, I felt compelled to puncture them with a cheer, before losing myself in this divine song, singing along just as Nick commanded.

Following this was “Jubilee Street” with its restrained menace, and the outright fury and mayhem of “From Her to Eternity”, both highlighting Nick’s mastery of the crowd. Later, “Tupelo” was mesmerising and electrifying, and “Bright Horses” had the crowd even more in the palm of Nick’s hand, thousands of arms raised aloft to its joyful, mournful wordless refrain.

Nick came to my side of the throng during the brooding “Red Right Hand”, and watching him declare “he’s a ghost, he’s a God, he’s a man, he’s a guru” at such proximity was truly thrilling. And then “The Mercy Seat” was unbelievable. Nearly 32 years since I first had the experience of Nick live, and this song in particular, it was incredible to find myself so close to him, as he roamed along the platform, singing “an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth” to different parts of the crowd, utterly in command of the enthralled thousands.

“Papa Won’t Leave You Henry” was a demented singalong, and “The Weeping Song” even more so, with added synchronised rhythmic clapping. The final song, “Into My Arms” with just Nick and a piano, was serene, the thousands singing every word back to him. I took out my earplugs for the final minutes, as it was worth risking a flare up of my auditory woes just to be in it, completely, for a few moments.

Everything we experienced this night was so pure and so real – real voices, real instruments being played in real time, to the whims of a real icon, a real creative force of genius. No backing tracks, no autotune, just the creation of a group of human beings in front of another group of human beings. A real, rare, dying art.

I left this gig feeling uplifted and regenerated, even though it took 45 minutes to get from the front of the arena to the tube. During this weary shuffle, I heard someone near me say to a friend, “tomorrow morning you won’t remember this, you’ll just remember how wonderful the gig was”.

Wise words indeed.