Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds: Nocturama

By RUSSELL BAILLIE

(Herald Rating: * * * )

To the generation who grew up in the wake of punk, Nick Cave is the nearest they have to their own Dylan.

Like his Bobness (he's in town you know) is to his following, Cave is a figure of enduring fascination.

Like him, Cave also sprang from a particular convulsion in rock history but has managed a timelessness to his art.

And like Dylan, the literary bent of his lyrics and his singular voice makes it difficult for anyone else to carry off his songs - unless you are Johnny Cash (who covered Mercy Seat and let Cave sing a duet on his new one), or Kylie Minogue or PJ Harvey (and they were duets, as well).

But that individuality and seemingly effortless ability to bash out another sinister tale of love, death, and getting the two mixed up, can make Cave ripe for self-parody. Unfortunately, that is one slight undoing of this, his 12th album which comes almost snapping at the heels of 2001's No More Shall We Part.

There are a couple of songs too many where it sounds just a little too easy for Cave to write a Nick Cave song, especially after the heart-on-sleeve wonder that was his studio album-before-last The Boatman's Call.

That certainly includes the 15-minute finale, Babe, I'm On Fire - with its 40 or so ranting poetic, and frankly Dylanesque verses ("The man going hiking says it/ the misunderstood Viking says it/ the man at the rodeo/ and the lonely old Eskimo says? Babe, I'm on fire ... " ), it's only slightly shorter than one of Cave's great unread novels.

But it does manage to suggest his literary influences now extend to Dr Seuss (must be having kids that does it).

Its last verse closes the show nicely with a nod to the Bad Seeds and crew ("Warren says it/ Blixa says it/ Mick says it, Marty says it/ Everyone at the party says it ... "). It is going to be one hell of an encore should they ever play here again and one of the pluses of this is how much it reminds what a fine band Cave had behind him.

Especially when they're lurking with intent on the likes of the anthemic Bring It On, flailing desperately through Dead Man In My Bed (which has former Saints frontman Chris Bailey on supporting vocals), or helping opener Wonderful Life billow into life.

Some of Cave's piano-led ballads, such as the lilting Right Out of Your Hand, do clearly remind of the intimacy and catharsis of The Boatman's Call.

But some, like the slight Rock of Gibraltar ("I took you on a trip to Malta") can make you wonder if the apparent fast studio turn-around for this album with one-time Birthday Party producer Nick Launay made for vital performances but some undernourished, glib songs.

It still has its dark thrills but much of Nocturama can sound like Cave is having a bit of an off-night.

(Mute/EMI)