Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds

Dear Girl, 

The life of mortals in this world is troubled and brief and inseparable from suffering, for there is not any means, nor will there ever be, by which those that have been born can avoid dying.  All living beings are of such a nature that they must die whether they reach old age or not.

As early-ripening fruits are in danger of falling, so mortals when born are always in danger of dying.  Just as the earthen vessels made by the potter end in shards, so is the life of mortals.  Both young and old, both those who are foolish and those who are wise – all fall into the power of death, all are subject to death.

Of those who depart from this life, overcome by death, a father cannot save his son, nor relatives their kinsfolk.  While relatives are looking on and lamenting, one by one the mortals are carried off like oxen to the slaughter.  People die, and their fate after death will be according to their deeds.  Such are the terms of the world.

Not from weeping nor from grieving will anyone obtain peace of mind.  On the contrary, his pain will be all the greater, and he will ruin his health.  He will make himself sick and pale; but dead bodies cannot be restored by his lamentation.

Now that you have heard the Tathagata, Kisa, reject grief, do not allow it to enter your mind.  Seeing one dead, know for sure: ‘I shall never see him again in this existence.’  And just as the fire of a burning house is quenched, so does the contemplative wise person scatter grief’s power, expertly, swiftly, even as the wind scatters cottonseed.

He who seeks peace should pull out the arrow lamentations, useless longings, and the self-made pangs of grief.  He who has removed this unwholesome arrow and has calmed himself will obtain peace of mind.

[Taken from the story of Kisa, and the mustard seed]

The wind has no form, no structure, no conceivable purpose. It moves a beautiful Queen’s hair in majestic ways, like a stairwell. And it plants trees that don’t want to be planted. Rips limbs from trees that don’t want to die. Falling to the forest floor. 

Ghosteen as an album can not be summed on in terms of how it sounds, or how it reads, how long it is, or why there are no drums. After all, a ghost is without shape or form, it has no purpose and is without structure - powered by an esoteric quality. And Ghosteen is that experience. It is a floating record that transports you through dreams and images. One where beautiful animals move through streets with rain putting out their fire. It’s the sky and the wind moving ships across sunsets. And it’s bad seedlings ready to be born. But most importantly it’s about love. As hard as I tried to cry, it is not a sad album.

Skeleton Tree was weighted down with something; much like Ghosteen it was instrumentally heavy on synthesisers and piano. But, Skeleton Tree was sad, and had moments that brought with it tears. Not enough time had not passed to be free. Ghosteen is the next part of enlightenment. Floating in the sky, you can gaze back down at the kitchen table, where Nick sits, listening to the radio, sending a message to Warren about the next Grinderman album, and waiting for peace to come.

After all: somebody’s losing someone.