I don’t necessarily believe in serendipity, but it felt oddly appropriate that Abattoir Blues / The Lyre of Orpheus landed as my album of the day while I was deep into Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds’ latest release Wild God (2024, if you're reading this in the future). Why? Because this double album is widely regarded as the moment Nick Cave’s career was reignited. By the early 2000s, Cave’s creative momentum seemed to be waning. Though revered for his previous work, Nocturama (2003) was considered by many a misstep, and whispers of him becoming a "legacy act" grew louder. Yet, with Abattoir Blues / The Lyre of Orpheus, Cave didn't just bounce back—he charted a bold new course. The two-disc set feels less like a traditional double album and more like a deliberate pairing of contrasting moods. Abattoir Blues is explosive and intense, steeped in gospel-tinged rock that surges with energy. Tracks like “Get Ready for Love” and “There She Goes, My Beautiful World” bristle with urgency, while “Hiding All Away” stands out for its sinister, bluesy undercurrent. Meanwhile, The Lyre of Orpheus takes a more introspective approach, leaning into orchestral elegance and pastoral balladry. “Breathless” offers a breezy, almost whimsical respite, contrasting with the mythic darkness of “The Lyre of Orpheus” and the poignant, choir-backed “O Children.” Warren Ellis’s contributions—particularly his haunting string work—elevate the album’s more delicate moments. Cave’s vocals shift masterfully between fiery preacher and tender storyteller, embodying the duality of love and loss, myth and mortality. This dynamic range, coupled with the band’s invigorated performance, cemented the album as a late-career triumph. This wasn’t just a comeback—it was a reinvention. Cave’s ability to draw from mythological themes, literary references, and gospel sounds without losing his signature edge gave the album both a cerebral and spiritual depth. It also paved the way for his increasingly minimalist, contemplative works in the 2010s, including Push the Sky Away (2013) and Skeleton Tree (2016). And while the immediate critical response praised the album for its ambition and energy, hindsight has only amplified its importance in Cave’s discography. Tracks like “O Children” have since gained pop culture recognition, while “Nature Boy” and “Breathless” remind listeners of Cave’s ability to balance darkness with levity. Abattoir Blues / The Lyre of Orpheus is another step in my continued infatuation with Nick Cave. The album's raw energy and emotional depth have left me feeling both exhilarated and deeply moved. This wasn’t just music to pass the time—it was an experience that lingers, stirring thoughts and emotions long after the last note fades. There’s an argument to be made that Nick Cave’s real magic lies in his consistency during what could be considered the third act of his career. Rather than fading into nostalgia, he continues to evolve—like that rare bottle of bourbon you keep hidden away, savouring each sip while marvelling at how much more remains. If Abattoir Blues / The Lyre of Orpheus wasn’t already included in 1001 Albums You Must Hear Before You Die, it would surely have earned its place by now, not just as a great record but as a moment when an artist defied expectation and found new life in the process. Did/Do I own this release? No. Does this release belong on the list? Yes. Would this release make my personal list? Another album I hadn't heard before that feels like it was missing in my life. Will I be listening to it again? This deserves repeat visits.