Get Up Get Up Lord Donald Cried

Indulging in a Paul Roland week is making me a bit emotional, I wasn’t really expecting that. It’s not nostalgia (I’m well past nostalgia honestly). What is it? It’s maybe some kind of pride, that I was able to find meaning in music when I was only a ridiculous kid, and music in turn has stayed with me for such a long time. Gig is coming and I totally deserve it.


Recently a colleague announced to me that she has just discovered Nick Cave thanks to Spotify, which specifically threw Jubilee Street at her on a rainy Saturday morning. Well, why not, you go online, you stumble into Nick Cave. I’ve been wondering since, how it must feel, leading a Nick Cave-free life and then all of a sudden listening to Jubilee Street and finding it magnificent. Not even my favourite, I’m more on a Push the Sky Away vibe. But I’ve tried all morning to listen to the album as if I had never heard of Nick Cave before.

Oh it’s damn good, it’s intense, it’s glowing.

But without Wenders, and Cassiel, without Blixa and the tin foil, without Kreuzberg, without Anita Lane’s eyes, without Let Love In, without all the front rows, without the day Luke Cave was born, and without the day Nick Cave knocked out a traffic camera in Brighton with his car, I felt different, I felt like a different person, and I didn’t really like it, being a different person.