Nick Cave’s music serves his words, which are well-assembled, but don’t stir me. The theatricality, the occasional archaism, and the storyteller mode might be too flat for me: I’m unconvinced, though I respect his conviction. The music’s fun, just lacking hook in their function as set-dressing. This may also be the reason that the only PJ Harvey albums I love are her first two, the rock band ones; there are strong similarities, though she has more tunes and a better voice. I prefer “Abbatoir Blues” of the two records, perhaps because I perceive more of the anarchy of James Johnston’s former band, Gallon Drunk.