More than clashing sonics or soaring hymns or pervasive anxiety (and the quest to overcome it), the quality that best defines Carnage might be Cave's reckoning with the unknown, or his recognition of the unknowable.
It’s characterised by Cave’s portentous not-quite-singing being mixed with shimmering, abstract electronics, but there’s a bit more energy here and a few touches that puncture the gravitas.
The grief remains, but Cave’s hunger for retribution is back too, heightened at every turn by Ellis’s strings, on this wild, writerly masterpiece.
The thoughtful maestro of rock's new record is a vivid, brutal accounting of the human instinct for self-preservation in a crisis.
‘Carnage’ is arguably Cave and Ellis’ best record since The Bad Seeds’ latter day reinvention on 2013’s ‘Push The Sky Away’, or maybe even ‘Abattoir Blues’. It’s certainly two master craftsmen at the peak of their melodramatic powers.
On Carnage, Cave and Ellis don’t tread any new paths ... But what Cave and Ellis have crafted with Carnage is a refreshing respite from chaos, a record that sits at the burning edge of dawn and anticipates destruction’s undoing.
‘Carnage’ is a jewel in the Cave-Ellis cannon. A thrilling piece of work that sources a sweet-spot between the unbound introspection of the Bad Seeds’ recent work and the furious fire lit beneath Grinderman and The Birthday Party.
Constructed amid the dystopia of 2020, ‘CARNAGE’ instead stands as something unique, the sound of two vastly experienced musicians removing themselves from expectations, and constructing something both beautiful and visceral, tender and blood-thirsty, wholly terrifying and completely absorbing.
Nick Cave may very well be the avatar for the idea that what we think of as “mellow” can be “heavy” and vice versa. With Carnage, he and Ellis prove that point yet again. Believe it or not, they also stretch themselves again, suggesting there may be no end to the inspiration they have up their sleeves.
You can chalk Carnage up as anything from a zeitgeist experiment to a flawed masterpiece, but there’s something precious and compassionate at its heart that I honestly believe will make the world a better place in its own peculiar way, beyond the scope of critical evaluation.
Carnage is the bedroom record that we never expected from Cave. He and Warren Ellis have assembled a minimal record that still sounds like a full Bad Seeds album. It’s a testament to both of their abilities that at this juncture in their careers these two can still write powerful music.
With Carnage, Cave and Ellis have successfully balanced introspection and self reflection with the tumult and confusion of the wider world. It’s a hugely powerful statement.
Carnage may be the surprise outcome of Cave being forced off stage, but it’s further proof of the creative force that’s possible when he ends up in a studio with Ellis.
CARNAGE is a step away from the narrative-heavy albums we’ve heard before like Murder Ballads; generally closer to the imagery and metaphor-rich lyrics of Ghosteen, but it also has its own particular charm.
Though Carnage is an always theatrical, diabolically absurd/abstract, and damningly depressive work, there is, too, a blinding brightness at the lyrical and melodic end of the Cave/Ellis tunnel, a Cohen-esque crack in everything where the light gets in.
The emotionally potent and timely Carnage finds Nick Cave and Warren Ellis letting loose with the aesthetic they forged on the previous Bad Seeds trilogy.
This might not be a Bad Seeds album (although drummer Thomas Wydler is on there), but nor is it one of Cave and Ellis’s minimal excursions into the film soundtrack wilderness.
Cave’s rich writing and Ellis’s dense sounds form a reliably potent picture of locked-down end-times and the fantasy of redemption.
Carnage ... is a relatively quiet meditation on spiritual salvation in the era of loneliness.
Carnage covers broader range than most of the Bad Seeds' recent records, cramming plenty of Cave's various stylings into a neat, eight-song package.
Carnage is not just another page, it opens the door to a whole new story. It is a human and personal deliverance for the authors who allow us for 40 delicious minutes to close our eyes and escape.
Unless you were born yesterday, there is no need to introduce Nick Cave, a genius, an accomplished legend in the history of music. The Australian, known under multiple aliases, first as a band in the late 70s in the midst of the birth of Post-Punk and New Wave with The Boys Next Door quickly ... read more
When Nick Cave drops, you drop everything to listen.
Through his 90s and 2000s output, Nick Cave famously became one of the most thespian names in music. While rough around the edges, his earliest fortes into post-punk were made so exceptional by Cave’s one-of-a-kind and dramatically bombastic vocal performances alongside the idiosyncratic and ceaselessly creative instrumentation. Delightful and sumptuous piano ballads were prominent in The Boatman’s Call, Let Love In was by far ... read more
Warren Ellis's somber, melancholic instrumentals meet unhinged, but poetic dirges from the one and only Nick Cave, magic ensues
It's a late era album for these two, but that doesn't change how incredibly harrowing and emotionally stirring the music on here feels, and it doesn't stop being that for all 40 minutes that it lasts
"Albuquerque" and "Lavender Fields" are a bit milder than every other song in the tracklist, but even they help with the flow of the album really well, ... read more
I liked this a fair bit. Nick straddles the mournful and the disturbing over a subtle and unusual soundscape. As someone who doesn’t get on overly well with spoken word/spoken word style singing, I found myself engaged throughout the album whether that be lyrically or sonically. The second I felt myself losing interest, Nick pulled me back with unusual production, out of pocket lyricism or an eruption of a choir. I’m not a die-hard Nick Cave fan although I do really love some of his ... read more
Everyone dreams of dying. I’ve always had NC on my list to review and the week has finally come. The album met all of the expectations I had difficult, gripping, moody and deep. A week is a short time to fully understand this captivating album, with lots of the metaphorical meaning included that goes well over my head. Whilst being a bit out of my depth at times, there are excellent parts that cannot be overlooked: Hand of God is a banger of an opener, White elephant is a great song, ... read more
1 | Hand of God 5:16 | 85 |
2 | Old Time 5:16 | 81 |
3 | Carnage 4:47 | 85 |
4 | White Elephant 6:08 | 90 |
5 | Albuquerque 3:56 | 87 |
6 | Lavender Fields 4:33 | 86 |
7 | Shattered Ground 5:34 | 86 |
8 | Balcony Man 4:30 | 88 |
#1 | / | Gaffa (Sweden) |
#1 | / | Record Collector |
#3 | / | Gaffa (Denmark) |
#3 | / | The Telegraph |
#3 | / | Uncut |
#5 | / | MOJO |
#5 | / | The Sunday Times |
#6 | / | NME |
#6 | / | Spectrum Culture |
#7 | / | God Is In The TV |