Nick CaveMalahide Castle, Dublin★★★★★“We are all so sick and tired of seeing things as they are,” Nick Cave sings on Bright Horses. “Horses are just horses and their manes aren’t full of fire.” The line is a manifesto, a rallying cry against the forces that conspire to deaden our senses. Cave is an artist who believes in God. He believes in the dream world. He’s committed to finding the mystery and strangeness in everyday life. At Malahide Castle, the clouds part and evening sunshine streams across the field. Cave emerges in an immaculately tailored suit, flanked by the formidable Bad Seeds: Warren Ellis, Jim Sclavunos, George Vjestica, Larry Mullins, Colin Greenwood and Carly Paradis. Behind them stand a gospel choir in flowing silver robes.The production is stylish and restrained. No pyrotechnics, no distracting visual spectacle, no technological excess. The atmosphere is formal and confident enough to trust the songs. The emotional range of the performance is extraordinary. One moment the band drifts through dreamy, synthesiser-laden arrangements rich with atmosphere and philosophical reflection; the next they detonate into hard, thunderous rock anthems. Cave’s songwriting remains uniquely capable of moving between intimate confession and apocalyptic revelation while being wrily self aware. Cave grabs hands, locks eyes with audience members, scolds them into silence and places trust in them by asking them to hold his micThere’s no false modesty. Carnage is so stunning that Cave breaks into a grin afterwards and declares, “That’s a fucking beautiful song.” At another point he comments, “Now that’s a song that pushes around a Zimmer frame. An old, miserable song.” And it’s true, in Cave’s songs there’s always a sense of lacrimae rerum, the tears at the heart of things. His art has always been animated by darkness and loss, but always pushing through it to something transformative. His vision remains romantic, religious, carnal, menacing and prophetic, ultimately concerned with love.He continues to reinvent his catalogue. Henry Lee becomes a haunting and unexpectedly tender duet. Into My Arms is delivered with astonishing earnestness, Cave utterly present within every line. And with the Mercy Seat and Red Right Hand Cave proves he still has that old prowling, punky spirit.The concert reaches its spiritual peak with Waiting for You. As thousands chant back, “I’m just waiting for my time to come,”Throughout, Cave is electrifying. He grabs hands, locks eyes with audience members, scolds them into silence and places trust in them by asking them to hold his mic, to hold him as he clambers over them. He’s understood well that the rock star is a kind of shamanic religious healer.As the sky darkens, Cave returns for a generous encore. The closing A Rainy Night in Soho is a moving homage. He doesn’t labour the point, but his connection to Irish songwriting is evident throughout the night, as he references Shane and Sinead. For nearly three hours, Nick Cave renders the world stranger, deeper and more beautiful.