If there’s one artist we’ve struggled to catch live, it’s Nick Cave. We’ve somehow managed to miss every single one of his tours and the last time we finally snagged tickets… it was 2020, and Covid ruined everything. So, when we heard that the legendary Nick was coming back to France, we were all in. Today, we’re sharing a story we wanted to tell for a very long time: the night we finally saw Nick Cave live!
With his dark and poetic music, Nick Cave has always been our go-to for connecting to our deepest emotions. While we love his early work, his recent albums, shaped by the heartbreaking loss of his sons, have struck an even deeper chord with us. Ghosteen, a luminous meditation on grief, and Wild God, a celebration of hard-won joy, have been our beloved companions. To mark the occasion, we even gave this last record the Sound Eaters Treatment and baked a cake (yup, an addition to our infamous Where The Wild Roses Grow Pavlova), to help us wait until the big night, scheduled for mid-November in Paris.
The Wait: Surviving the Nick Cave Queue
Nick Cave’s crowd tends to be on the older side, so we figured there’d be no need for a long, cold wait outside the Accor Arena in dreary November. Big mistake. When we arrived at 3 p.m., we were greeted by a mass of fifty-somethings dressed head-to-toe in black. Every fandom has its quirks, and as seasoned concert-line veterans, we’ve seen it all: the sweet, the gatekeeping, the downright territorial. But nothing—absolutely nothing—prepared us for the madness of this queue.
The chaos began when two older men accosted us, demanding to know if we had a number. Confused, we said no, only to be sent to a self-proclaimed “organizer” who was, apparently, handing out tickets to maintain the sacred order of the line. She was out of paper, though, which earned us a series of death stares and a lecture before we were banished to the back of the line. It dawned on us then: we were surrounded by full-on fanatics.
As the line grew, one of the men decided to patrol it, interrogating everyone about their numbers and insisting we all stay put, two by two, in perfect formation.
Pure insanity, right? Consider yourself warned.
After four long hours of this nonsense, we finally got inside. Unsurprisingly, the infamous numbers meant absolutely nothing once the official staff took over.
How Was The Opening Act ?
The night started with Black Country, New Road, a band from Cambridge we’d checked out briefly beforehand. Their vibe—somewhere between indie melancholy and Divine Comedy—gave us high hopes. But on stage? They fell flat.
While they had three lovely female vocalists, a drummer who played like it was at night at Wembley and he was playing for Muse, and a handful of nice melodies, the performance felt closed-off and awkward. Their soft, wistful songs, while pleasant enough, quickly turned monotonous. In a cozy pub, they’d have been perfect. But in a 20,300-capacity arena? They were swallowed whole. A pity.
Nick Cave: A Live Performance Masterclass
Then came Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds. Despite the VIPs hogging the front row, we were thrilled to snag a solid second-row spot. Even the two towering giants in front of us couldn’t diminish our high spirits.
The show opened with Frogs, a standout from his latest album, and we were blown away from the first note. We’d imagined Nick to be more subdued, but he was electric—full of energy, brimming with intensity, and ready to bring the house down. He confessed early on that, as the final show of the tour, the band was barely holding it together, but you’d never have guessed.
The backing singers, radiant in shimmering silver dresses, lit up the stage with their voices and radiant presence. From Wild God to Song of the Lake, and a breathtaking O Children (sung by the entire crowd in a near-religious atmosphere), Nick and his band were on fire!
Nick alternated between haunting piano ballads and feverish dashes toward the crowd, who were hypnotized by his raw charisma. Beside him, Warren Ellis—his partner-in-crime—put on a show of his own, swaying wildly, jumping onto a battered chair (a concert veteran in its own right), and unleashing a storm of sound from his violin.
The setlist was a perfect mix of classics and new gems. Jubilee Street and Long Dark Night left the audience in tears, while Cinnamon Horses brought out a burst of joy.
And then came Tupelo. With its tale of Elvis’ stormy birth, the song shook the arena to its core, with furious violins and pounding drums recreating the tempest. It was epic.
And yet, the night wasn’t all serious. Warren proudly announced he pays taxes in France, Nick expertly shut down an overenthusiastic fan, and someone even handed him a plush doll of himself—complete with a hilariously off-brand mustache.
The emotional crescendo came with Bright Horses, Joy, and I Need You, a superb ode to Nick’s wife. Then Carnage, Red Right Hand, and White Elephant hit, and everyone was in awe.
The Finale: Time to Say Goodbye To Darkness and Joy
For the encore, Nick and his band returned with O wow O wow, dedicated to an early member of the Bad Seeds who had recently passed away. Her image graced the screen as the crowd sang along, heartbroken.
The night closed with The Weeping Song and the timeless Into My Arms. The backing singers joined Nick at the front of the stage, bowing to thunderous applause.
We left the arena trembling and overwhelmed, amazed by the power of this experience.
