52 Albums That Shaped My Life - A Special Addition - Skeleton Tree - Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds

 

Skeleton Tree – Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds 

Years ago I wrote about the 52 albums that shaped my life. Now that my life has been reshaped so drastically, it has become a necessity to add one album to that discussion.  

There is a physical sensation of emotional exchange for me listening to this album. An electricity that feels biological, like it’s been quietly generating inside and simply needed a circuit to be able to travel. Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds did that for me.  It is a circuit of grief, and the electricity causes immense pain to enter previously numb parts of my body, while also sparking dazzling beauty, the blinding light of being able to see someone else's soul, and the desire to hold and be held by your loves. Your loves. Your loves that will never let go. In trying to write about this album in the way I have about others, I’m inclined to talk about individual songs and how I feel they work. I was never good at that musical analysis and it feels even more out of place here. A piece of music that has such wholeness to it, such a force of emotion behind it, somewhat defies deconstruction or magnification of its elements. It travels over the terrain in front of it, leaving its tread and never losing anything of itself.  

That said, “I Need You” calls out to be considered as a standalone song with its direct lyrics and the devastating fragility of Nick’s voice, but it’s really its place between “Anthrocene” and “Distant Sky”, where it’s able to take the global scope of the grief and slowly, quietly, beautifully draw us back to something more personal, perhaps even manageable, that holds its power. A power flowing back and forth among us all.  

For me, a huge portion of this impact I’m trying to describe comes from me travelling back and forth between the album and the beautiful documentary “One More Time With Feeling”. It simultaneously illuminates and darkens the album but is its own document with a depth of emotion that steps beyond film or music into something more experiential and spiritual.  

This is what I wrote about the viewing experience the last time I watched it.  

"Things continue..." 

 

Lying in indecision. Do I let this sobbing escalate to unavoidably distracting levels, stopping the film, allowing me to dry the tears on my face and refocus, or do I continue to clench my jaw merely holding back the flood enough for us to continue? 

 

My beautiful wife interrupts the struggle of that indecision, cradling my head, stroking the brain surgery scar that is the only visible reminder that I will likely die in the near future, and I feel a peace. A peace for I am protected and loved, and that no matter how dark things get there is a light in my life every day. 

 

"Things continue...