Fittingly perhaps, bats floated lazily over the sun drenched Domain with the stark outline of Sydney’s high-rises as a back drop. The crowds gathered on the gently rolling greens for Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds‘s first gigs in Sydney for quite a while and it was magnificent.
Support came from New Zealand’s luminescent and enchanting Aldous Harding who set the tone early with a performance that was stripped-back, focused and quietly arresting. Her voice cut cleanly through the open-air setting, holding the crowd without needing volume or theatrics. The set felt deliberately restrained — controlled pacing, minimal movement, and an emphasis on mood rather than momentum — which worked well as a counterpoint to the scale of what followed. It wasn’t designed to warm up the crowd in a conventional sense, but it created the right atmosphere: calm, attentive, and tuned in.
Harding’s intoxicating mix of vulnerability and steel strength shone through, and it was a thoroughly immersive and shimmering set.
Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds don’t do spectacle for spectacle’s sake — and on Saturday night at The Domain, they didn’t need to. No gimmicks, no theatrics, no excess production gloss. Just a world-class band, a vast enamoured Sydney crowd, and a setlist that balanced emotional weight with absolute control.
From the opening run of songs, the tone was clear: disciplined, powerful, and completely assured. ‘The Wild God’ material sat comfortably alongside the catalogue — not as “new songs”, but as fully integrated parts of the Bad Seeds universe. Tracks from the album carried a darker, heavier gospel influence live, driven by layered rhythms and a dense, immersive sound that worked perfectly in the open-air setting.
Cave remains one of the most commanding frontmen in contemporary music. There’s no wasted movement, no empty monologue — just presence. He moves the stage with calm authority, switching between preacher, storyteller, conductor and confessor without ever slipping into self-indulgence. His connection with the crowd felt natural rather than performative, and the call-and-response moments never tipped into cliché.
One of the night’s most affecting moments came with the surprise inclusion of ‘Shivers’ — Cave introducing the song with a simple, heartfelt dedication to Rowland S. Howard. It was understated, respectful, and deeply felt. The performance itself avoided sentimentality, letting the song speak for itself, and in a set full of emotional weight, it landed with quiet force rather than theatrical drama. Of course I am biased – this remains one of my all time favourite songs and took me back to the last time I saw Nick Cave at his curated and much lamented festival, All Tomorrow’s Parties, held on Cockatoo Island in the middle of Sydney Harbour. It was to be one of the last performances of Howard and an absolute privilege to have witnessed.
Warren Ellis was, as ever, essential — his violin work cutting through the mix with urgency and tension, adding texture rather than ornamentation. He was at time like a whirling dervish, as Rasputin-like figure with an immense presence and an urgent pasionate delivery. The rest of the band played with precision and restraint, letting the songs breathe while still delivering real physical impact when needed.
The mid-set run of older material gave the night its backbone. Jubilee Street built patiently before detonating into its familiar chaos. Red Right Hand landed with authority, still as menacing and effective as ever. Into My Arms stripped everything back — just Cave, piano, and thousands of voices carrying the chorus, proving how powerful simplicity can be in a setting this large.
‘Henry Lee’ blistered like paint on a hot steel roof, with one of the backup singers (Janet Ramus?) providing a depth and delivery that the recorded version didn’t have. No disrespect to Kylie of course.
Given the recorded degree of his somewhat acrimonious departure, Cave acknowledged his long time collaborator Mick Harvey, as he launched into ‘The Mercy Seat’ with a rather poignant comment that he may well be in the audience.
What made the night work wasn’t nostalgia — it was relevance. Nothing felt like legacy touring. Nothing felt like a greatest-hits exercise. This was a band still evolving, still writing meaningful material, still performing with intent rather than obligation. A cretin who climbed one of the lighting towers almost stymied things as Cave launched into ‘The Weeping Song’, a song that forerever reminded me of Blixa Bargeld, another great past member.
And as much I loved the abrasive Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds of old, where religious imagery was more cynical and appropriating, I was wept away by this new sonic machine which verged into the spiritual and euphoric, despite my misgivings about gentle religious proselytising that sometimes occurs in The Red Hand Files. There were times when Cave looked genuinely moved by the audience singalongs and the general reception, and his delivery of ‘White Horses’ was simply breathtaking, everyone in the audience aware of the tragedy that has dogged Cave’s personal life, referenced so beautifully in this song. Throughout the set, the audience reaching their hands out to touch his during the performance was like a Pentecostal revival meeting, but one that I felt a twinge of envy about. Cave’s connection to each and every exchange seemed genuine and caring.
By the end of the set, The Domain felt less like a festival crowd and more like a unified audience — engaged, focused, and fully locked into what was happening on stage.
Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds didn’t come to overwhelm Sydney — they came to deliver a disciplined, emotionally grounded, and sharply executed live show. And they did exactly that. This was one of the gigs of a lifetime for me. And Cave’s message to the audience? Australia is a beautiful place. Don’t f@ck it up.
The tour continues across Australia – see details below.
Frogs
Wild God
Song of the Lake
O Children
Jubilee Street
From Her to Eternity
Long Dark Night
Cinnamon Horses
Tupelo
Conversion
Bright Horses
Joy
I Need You
Carnage
(Nick Cave & Warren Ellis cover)
Final Rescue Attempt
Red Right Hand
The Mercy Seat
White Elephant
(Nick Cave & Warren Ellis cover)
Encore:
Shivers
(Young Charlatans cover)
Papa Won’t Leave You, Henry
The Weeping Song
(Dedicated to the fuckwit on the tower (Someone had scaled the speaker tower).)
Henry Lee
Skeleton Tree
Into My Arms (solo)
Gallery and feature photograph: Arun Kendall
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