Grinderman – Grinderman 2

Good Lord, Nick Cave is a horny man. Not the clean, wholesome sort of horny that you might associate with a “Whoops, Vicar! Somebody should really clean that Church organ”-style romp. We’re talking about a fundamentally nasty type of ardour here. Grinderman 2 is a record that simply howls its debased frustration from every pore; it doesn’t so much emanate from the speakers as drag your eardrums down a nearby alley and grope them inappropriately at knife-point. It is also, at times, splendidly, perplexingly brilliant. Your eardrums will kind of enjoy the experience – perhaps the greatest violation of all.

Not that this will come as any particular surprise to those who heard the first Grinderman effort, which is not an album one could use the word ‘subtle’ to describe. Still, though.....Yikes! This follow-up is the most primitive, feral thing you will hear all year. Listening to it is like playing a hapless victim in a ropey Oliver Reed werewolf film: just as the menacing rhythm section has stalked you through the woods to the point of incontinence, the guitar lines lash out unexpectedly from off-screen in a hail of power chords, scratches and reverberations. And through it all, standing astride proceedings like a modern day Colossus of Rhodes, is the immense, brooding presence of Cave. ‘Heathen Child’ can genuinely only be described as sounding like an intro number written for a Broadway musical in which the vengeful Antipodean plays Satan. ‘Worm Tamer’ surges, breaks and never quite reaches a climax – and is all the more satisfying for it – while it’s perhaps worth stressing that ‘Mickey Mouse and The Goodbye Man’ should under no circumstances be played in the company of children. By the time the comparatively restrained arrangement of ‘What I know’ arrives at the midway point, the breather is welcome. Needless to say, this respite is only temporary, and on we go as before until suddenly, somehow, it’s all over and you feel an overwhelming need to take a long, cold shower.

So, is it any good? Well, I’m not even sure that question applies. It certainly isn’t of a quality comparable to Cave’s best Bad Seeds output, but it feels like a cathartic release more than anything. This is no fine bottle of whiskey, to be taken out and savoured when the moment arises. This is hardcore, bite-the-top-off-the-bottle-and-down-it-in-one-style liquor. But you’ve got to do that once before swearing you’ll never touch a drop of the stuff again. You’ll likely be kidding yourself, but then again Nick Cave always seems to have our number on that front.