The Boatman’s Call represents a dramatic turning point for Nick Cave, trading the character-driven narratives of past albums for the first blush of a more honest songwriting approach—one he would describe as “exclusively autobiographical” by the time of The Bad Seeds’ mournful 2019 album Ghosteen. At the time, though, this 1997 landmark saw Cave unexpectedly let his guard down to reflect on both his recent divorce from Viviane Carneiro and a short but impactful relationship with kindred spirit PJ Harvey. Even more striking is the sudden softness and openness of the arrangements. While 1994’s Let Love In revealed its share of gorgeous balladry and 1996’s Murder Ballads located considerable foreboding in the quieter details of its source material, this album features Cave’s most graceful and direct songwriting to date. And where a roiling clamour of instruments might have accompanied him in the past, here piano takes the lead (along with his inkily expressive voice) while his bandmates slide respectfully further into the background. A signature song for Cave since its release, the opening “Into My Arms” sets the tone by embellishing its open-hearted meditation on romantic and religious faith (“I don’t believe in an interventionist god/But I know, darling, that you do”), accompanied only by Cave’s piano and Martin Casey’s subtle bass guitar. Other songs follows suit, feeling more classic than ever in form: the redemptive “People Ain’t No Good” is so broadly appealing that it was employed to emotional effect in Shrek 2, while back-to-back tracks “There Is a Kingdom” and “(Are You) The One That I've Been Waiting For?” are the kind of stately yet devastating ballads that would absolutely silence a concert audience. Cave’s renderings of God and the Devil are gentler than usual on “Brompton Oratory” (complete with its unlikely plink of drum machine). Similarly, the closing “Green Eyes” treats its casual profanity with surprising tenderness. Even the ominous English-style folk of “West Country Girl” culminates in a domestic portrait of a woman and her cat. That track includes violin shading from Dirty Three’s Warren Ellis, who would go on to become Cave’s closest collaborator. Ellis also lends woozy accordion to the sparse “Black Hair”, delivered so intimately that it’s as if Cave is right beside us. The decades to come would see Cave plunge ever further into his own life for his songs, sharing the personal weight of both true love and unthinkable tragedy. While his multi-decade marriage to Susie Bick would provide him (and us) with even deeper romantic ballads, the 2015 death of their son Arthur would also underscore his work. Following the unexpected death in 2022 of another of his sons, Jethro Lazenby, Cave told The New York Times that performing was like repaying a debt to those whose support helped him through his grief.