The stylistic, narrative and emotionally arresting nature of Nick Cave’s late-career output is something to behold. In a career that many consider being among the most intriguing and engaging in post-punk evolution, the trio of albums in the 2010s form a particular awe-inspiring stage in The Bad Seeds rich catalog, with two of them being deeply influenced by an emotional stirring event. Carnage is proof that Cave’s songwriting will transform as time passes even if it never abandons the questions he’s been asking since his life was forever changed.

Released in collaboration with Bad Seeds and Grinderman member Warren Ellis, Carnage is the first album Ellis and Cave release as a duo that is not a film score. The album has compositional connections to 2019’s Ghosteen but in comparison to that record’s heavenly ambition, I couldn’t help but notice that it brings more grounded ideas that remind me of 2013’s Push The Sky Away. And that’s why, now with this release, the winding relationship between these albums, and even the scoring projects is evident.

In any case, Carnage has many things to portray and it works great for itself and the two artists in question. Cave’s wisdom is expertly showcased, his voice and songwriting now channeling a decades-old shaman. The sounds are notably mixed, with songs with obscure power gliding over them and ballads of undeniable beauty balancing the album’s flow of music. Ellis works marvels with his piercing string arrangements and soaring synths throughout, something that appeared in the preceding output, but that founds a new focus this time.

Openers ‘Hand of God’ and ‘Old Time’ are both spectral numbers with Cave’s voice looming over and the textured instrumentation creating a resoundingly cinematic atmosphere. The first one makes use of its enveloping strings to surround Cave’s narrative of being “touched” by God in the middle of a river. ‘Old Time’ has a recurring cascading synth that reminds me of the Shadow Temple score in The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time. However, despite this foreboding feeling, the song works as a gentle ode to a time that will never come back.

‘White Elephant’ is a burgeoning track that starts as ominous as its predecessors but ends in a gospel-like chorus bursting with passion and works as an inflection point in the album. Worth mentioning that Cave clarified in his virtual Q&A with fans, the Red Hand Files, that the track is dedicated to Thomas Houseago a painter he became friends with a few years back. It’s interesting that writing the song for his friend, helped Cave continue giving shape to what eventually became Carnage in the middle of the global lockdown (and at the same time Houseago made a painting for Cave, pulling himself out of a personal lethargy). That speaks volumes of the cooperative and boundary-free nature of art and how through it you can deal or at least come to terms with the pressures of a global crisis.

The thematic of the album borrows from Cave’s immediate past and is undoubtedly influenced by being conceived during the COVID-19 pandemic. This newfound perspective has Cave taking the aesthetic of his late-career music to inspiring but more approachable directions. Nevertheless, Carnage is still a work of profound contemplation, mostly evidenced by its second half.

‘Albuquerque’ with its beautiful and poignant piano tune connects the album more succinctly with Ghosteen without reaching for that record’s ambition. ‘Shattered Ground’ is equally moving, with its lyrics focusing on Cave’s wife dealing with the loss of their son. Furthermore is particularly invigorating listening Cave mutter: “Only you are beautiful, only you are true/I don’t care what they are saying/They can scream their fucking faces blue again”. That swear delivered in Cave’s aged baritone is electrifying. Finally ‘Balcony Man’ is a sweeping coda and it discretely shines a light in a future that may be hopeful, while Cave comes to terms with what he has and will eventually lose. For the time being, he just recites: “This morning is amazing and so are you!”, in what is a thrilling climax.

It would be ok to say that we need another thrashing and abrasive post-punk/blues album from Nick Cave, Warren Ellis, and ideally The Bad Seeds? In this writer’s opinion, yes. But it would be unjust to diminish the music they’ve released throughout the past ten years, which has been a quite compelling journey. One that has taken us far away into the mind of one of the most interesting songwriters of his generation. Cave has treated his music with the utmost care, putting at first his technicolor storytelling in a new light, and then opening himself up with abandon after a life-changing event that made him question everything. Carnage is both another chapter in this intricate string of records and Ellis and Cave’s fruitful cooperation. An album that takes its predecessors’ cosmic-level ideas and channels them through our collective state of isolation, focused and cohesive. Establishing itself as a perfect companion for a time when we need to make sense of it all to move forward.