Breathless by Nick Cave

 If I was asked to write an obituary for Nick Cave, it would begin with what is, on the surface, a most unlikely observation:

One of the foremost composers of love songs of his generation passed today: Nick Cave.

Of course, he is also one the foremost composers of songs about hate, about perversion, about dissipation etc. There are a number of songs by Nick Cave which have turned up on love missives, in the form of mixed cds, that I have made for my life mate over the years.  "Breathless" hasn't but, no doubt, it will soon.

From the opening couplet, he had me at "gambolling."  This is followed by the extraordinary three lines

And the red-breasted robin beats his wings
His throat it trembles when he sings
For he is helpless before you

A robin's throat trembling in a rock song - really?   Fer chrissakes, robins don't even make it into popular songs anymore, no less with beating wings and certainly not with throats a-tremble.

The happy hooded bluebells bow
And bend their heads all a-down
Heavied by the early morning dew

Ok, at "happy hooded bluebells" I'm taking off my clothes and lying down.  Followed by "bend their heads all a-down / Heavied by the early morning dew" - damn, you get the idea.  This is deepish lingo for pop, be it stretched syntax or no.

At the whispering stream, at the bubbling brook
The fishes leap up to take a look
For they are breathless over you

This is one song written by someone who has got you on the ground and is not letting you up.

Still your hands
And still your heart
For still your face comes shining through
And all the morning glows anew
Still your mind
Still your soul
For still, the fare of love is true
And I am breathless without you

This chorus is a beauty and serves its function well, particularly when it rolls round again with the songwriter's stock in-trade of minor variances to keep the listener attentive and in this case, which is rare in rock indeed, the changes actually further the understanding and add depth to the meaning.

Still your hands
And still your heart
For still your face comes shining through
And all the morning glows anew
Still your soul
Still your mind
Still, the fire of love is true
And I am breathless without you

All nature ends up bowing to the narrator's love.  In the next three verses we have:

The fox chases the rabbit round
The rabbit hides beneath the ground
For he is defenceless without you

The sky of daytime dies away
And all the earthly things they stop to play
For we are all breathless without you

I listen to my juddering bones
The blood in my veins and the wind in my lungs
And I am breathless without you

Cave has centered all the imagery around the natural world, as one still occasionally finds in some modern Indian Bollywood songs.   He has taken it back to basics, grounding us in the real, leading us away from the morass of modern mind.

Gambolling, juddering, happy hooded bluebells, anything bowed by morning dew, fish leaping out of a brook to take a look - take all these elements and, go ahead, write a pop song.   Go on.  I dare ya.

More likely, you'll write a poem.

Here's the song in its entirety.  Don't be put off musically by the opening, which seems to be an odd amalgam of slightly off-key recorder and flute.  It called to mind for me a sound similar to gagaku, a type of Japanese court music.  Whatever it is, and whatever the intent, by the time it returns at the end, you've forgotten how it began, particularly if you are as stunned as I was at what came between.

Breathless
It's up in the morning and on the downs
Little white clouds like gambolling lambs
And I am breathless over you

And the red-breasted robin beats his wings
His throat it trembles when he sings
For he is helpless before you

The happy hooded bluebells bow
And bend their heads all a-down
Heavied by the early morning dew

At the whispering stream, at the bubbling brook
The fishes leap up to take a look
For they are breathless over you

Still your hands
And still your heart
For still your face comes shining through
And all the morning glows anew
Still your mind
Still your soul
For still, the fare of love is true
And I am breathless without you

The wind circles among the trees
And it bangs about the new-made leaves
For it is breathless without you

The fox chases the rabbit round
The rabbit hides beneath the ground
For he is defenceless without you

The sky of daytime dies away
And all the earthly things they stop to play
For we are all breathless without you

I listen to my juddering bones
The blood in my veins and the wind in my lungs
And I am breathless without you

Still your hands
And still your heart
For still your face comes shining through
And all the morning glows anew
Still your soul
Still your mind
Still, the fire of love is true
And I am breathless without you 

Nick Cave

This brief interlude was brought to you by the fact that I am diligently working on a review of a recent edition of Modern Haiku, which I hope to post next Friday. I was overwhelmed by this song while walking into work yesterday - I played it over a dozen times in a row - and since I knew, literary as it is in tone, it would never fit into the requirements of the Sunday Service, I decided to share it today instead.


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Here are two poems from Lilliput Review #116, March 2001, both brief, both powerful in their own ways.  Enjoy.

Saint Sebastian
Unless they fly they cannot sing.
Unless they find flesh they have no voice. Silently Sebastian
Welcomes his arrows.

   Tim Robbins

trying to forget
everything else
golden horseshit

Ed Baker

the sliding door's
decorative pattern...
fly shit

Issa
translated by David G. Lanoue

best,
Don

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