Emotions are just as highly charged elsewhere, with the disaffection of "(I Don't Need You To) Set Me Free" apparent in the slashed and scarified surface of its anthemic groove, the haunting mystery of "Electric Alice" captured with a naggingly discordant blend of violin and distorted organ that recalls both Can and the Velvets, and the yearning orphan loneliness of "Man In the Moon" evoked by the melancholy blend of electric piano and hissing Leslie-cabinet ambience.  Full text...

There isn't a bad song on this album.  Full text...

Grinderman is a new band, comprised of four members of a band that's not at all new. Neither are its members, the head honcho of whom is now 50 years wiser. Nick Cave, Meltdown curator and murder ballad maker, has taken the opportunity, with Warren Ellis, Martyn Casey and Jim Sclavunos, to foist upon us a testosterone-fuelled, musical mid-life crisis steeped in alcohol and frustration. And he's picked up a guitar.  Full text...

Out of the Bad Seeds, a new beast is born  Full text...

Ultimately, Grinderman is just a way for Cave to release more music. Some songs - like the gorgeous "Man In The Moon" and the rich, emotional "I Don't Need You (To Set Me Free)" - could have easily appeared on a Bad Seeds album.  Full text...

Nick Cave is on absolutely devastating form here, even by his standards, and that's your quality stamp right there.   Full text...

Guitars screech throughout, whatever mood the percussion allows to mask its frame, but there’s method in the apparent haphazardness – there’s a rawness to this record that most new bands – sorry, most bands made up of new musicians – would do well to soak up. It’s not in the production, nor the band’s studio of choice. It’s in their very f*****g veins.  Full text...

Nick Cave finds his - yes - even darker side  Full text...

With Grinderman Nick Cave has taken a leaf out of the Motorhead's book and decided to celebrate being an old bastard. It's not (thank Christ) grown-up music, but definitely well worn.  Full text...

Grinderman is a largely garage-fuelled album, with blistering flickers of distorted guitar scattered liberally across most of the tracks; lyrically, it's a lot less elegiac than Cave's usual fare, though he's unquestionably still got an eye for a great line: 'I sent her every type of flowe / I played her guitar by the hour / I petted her revolting little chilhuahua / But still, she just 'didn't want to''.  Full text...