Stranger, but oddly lovely in its own way is the version of “Where the Wild Roses Grow” with Blixa Bargeld’s fragile but atmospheric guide vocal in place of Kylie Minogue’s more familiar one. But even from the start, the Bad Seeds were always a slightly different prospect from the Birthday Party, and their more lush, cinematic and romantic side is audible even in the acoustic versions of classics like “The Mercy Seat” as well as in beautifully forlorn pieces like “The Train Song,” which originally graced the B-side of the epic ballad “The Ship Song.” Equally interesting and exciting are the band’s covers of other artists’ material – notably the weepy, widescreen country-ish version of Neil Young’s “Helpless” and the tongue-in-cheek rock ‘n’ roll through Leonard Cohen’s “Tower of Song.” The 1992 version of the Pogues’ ballad “Rainy Night in Soho” is beautiful too, but there is an even better one, performed live on “Later with Jools Holland” in the same year that’s worth looking up it’s a shame it wasn’t included here.
Likewise, the band’s lurching version of Leadbelly’s blues-holler “Black Betty” (best known now in its ‘70s Ram Jam incarnation) has a strangely feral, very Australian quality, again like The Birthday Party circa Prayers on Fire. Smith in Nick Cave’s vehement, half-spoken vocal. In some ways, the earliest songs are, if not the best, then the most electrifying “Scum,” a 1986 flexidisc sold at the band’s concerts has all of the danger and insanity – not to mention the churning bass – of Cave and Mick Harvey’s earlier work with the Birthday Party, but is also, oddly, a little bit like The Fall, with overtones of Mark E. Something over half of the tracks are B-sides, while others come from compilation albums, soundtracks and the like, but taken out of the context of whatever the band’s albums happened to be at the time, the ephemeral nature of many of the songs included here makes them feel like a vivid, authentic snapshot of the Bad Seeds’ development over the past three decades. Somehow, putting the albums together makes them more than the sum of their parts. Whether or not the box set is within your means, the albums themselves are essential for anyone who loves Cave’s music, but they will be equally satisfying to those who are only casually acquainted with his work.
With this combined, limited edition release, BMG are giving Nick Cave completists and fans who unaccountably didn’t buy the compilations yet – and have plenty of money to burn – the chance to buy all 83 tracks in what appears to be (there’s no promo available) a handsome 7 LP box set, with a slightly utilitarian/austere-looking booklet containing exclusive sleevenotes. Nick Cave’s discography is at this point vast and somewhat unwieldy, and even if very little of it can be called uninteresting, putting together something as rewarding and satisfying as these collections are requires real skill and careful consideration. Although over-used – just now, for instance – the word “curated” is the right one. After the epic, 56 tracks of the Mick Harvey-curated first compilation it felt like perhaps the cupboards should have been comparatively bare but the 16 years that separated the albums had produced another 27 tracks, easily qualitatively the equal of those that came before. When the second, Warren Ellis-curated instalment of Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds’ B-Sides and rarities program was released recently, there was a certain amount of surprise at just how good it was, and how much of it there was.
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