Cave appears in a documentary released simultaneously with his new recordwww.nickcave.com

The tragic death of his son Arthur underpins Nick Cave’s difficult new album, Skeleton Tree. On its own, it is fundamentally an excellent album, both technically and lyrically (something argued in Part 1 of this review). However, Cave’s project, which is essentially a creative and emotional response to his personal struggle, is all the more powerful when heard (and watched) through Andrew Dominik’s accompanying documentary, One More Time with Feeling, which follows Cave through the recording process. For, when the album is given context and visual perspective through this film, it becomes more than just a powerful album. It becomes a poignant, glass-cut insight into the mind of a deeply complicated and haunted father. Moreover, Dominik’s film accentuates the splendour of the standalone album, for it closely evaluates the conception of art in the wake of catastrophe.

Skeleton Tree should be considered in context with its accompanying documentary, as it contributes much to the quality of the album itself, and makes the listening a much richer, albeit darker, experience. The two separate projects – film and album – become one. The film, shot in black and white through a 3D camera, adds humour and visual gloss to the project, yet it gives the whole album an added layer of emotion through its visual presentation of Cave and his bandmates. It portrays their friendship, an indispensable chemistry and the musical interplay they have with one another. Moreover, Dominik beautifully films the exact recordings of each song heard on the album.

The film is remarkably uncomfortable and filled with painfully poignant moments. For example, when Cave enters the studio to record some new replacement vocals for an unedited track, he slouches over the piano and struggles to find the chords which match the original recording: “This is really fucking difficult,” he gently narrates over the footage. “This is really, really fucking difficult.” His voice is not simply conveying the technical difficulty of overdubbing an already recorded, improvised track, but also clearly revealing the difficulty of the whole process of recording this deeply personal track itself. He eventually finds his footing, locates his chords, and then produces what is the astonishing final cut of ‘Jesus Alone’, the first track on the album. In this scene and in many others, Dominik’s footage provides visual and emotional context to the production of this album, and consequently makes it an all the more powerful experience.

When a high-profile project like Skeleton Tree is underpinned by a cataclysmic and tragic context, honest reviewing of it can become difficult. Sympathy can shroud the work and critical judgement is potentially skewed by passion and emotion – something perhaps seen in David Bowie’s final album, Lazarus, following his tragic death from cancer. In essence, the genuine quality of an album can often be overlooked and perhaps even overrated. Conversely, when such art is born out of catastrophe, it can also offer something deeper and much more powerful. Playing devil’s advocate, a friend asked me after hearing Cave’s album: “Is it actually good?” – meaning, had Cave’s son not died, and were the tragic context removed, would this album be as excellent as we have professed it to be? The truth is, when watching the film and listening to Skeleton Tree together, the death of Arthur is constantly on the mind. Consequently, it binds this work together and makes it exactly what it is. Thus, the context of this album doesn’t shade our judgement and make an excuse of what could be just a decent album, it moulds it, fuels it and embraces it. The lyrics in the album are the language of loss, and the film serves beautifully to emphasise Cave’s pain.

Attention should be paid to the prophetic, philosophical quality of Cave’s narration in the film, for it explains and justifies much of the creative process leading up to the album’s final form. It is interesting when, for example, in a taxi on the way home from recording, Cave explains to Dominik how many artists naively crave something catastrophic to happen in their lives to “give them something interesting to write about” and stimulate their art. For Cave, however, he describes the traumatic event being simply too much, and thus reveals Skeleton Tree to be much more a coping mechanism than a gratuitous elegy to his fallen child. It is the work of a confused, conflicted man, lost in a kind of nightmarish pantomime within his own head. While this catastrophic event indeed permeates this album, for the most part, the death of his son is not directly addressed lyrically. Instead, Cave’s songs deal with the theme of loss and grief on a much broader scale, making it a much more complex piece, and it is Cave’s explanations in the documentary which provide this information, acting as an excellent companion to his album.

Overall, a focus on the album in the context of Cave himself, and that of the documentary, adds to the overall masterpiece that is Skeleton Tree. When combined, we are given a portrait of the man, and an insight into his loss.