Nearly thirty years ago, the beguiling, at times ridiculous and always eventful solo career of the bad-mannered, Australian prodigal son Nick Cave began. Film scripts, soundtracks, on-stage work, obscene collaborations, award-winning novels and fourteen records (he refers to them as "being like children"); there seems no way to weigh his mass of work without being utterly impertinent or disingenuous. Therefore I'd like to hone our focus on his mottos and maxims for 2013 in his brand new album Push The Sky Away.

Written from his seaside home in Hove and recorded in a 19th Century mansion in the South of France, Push The Sky Away is, astonishingly, the fifteenth release from Nick Cave and The Bad Seeds. With the thesis of this new album being built upon "pure instinctive inventiveness" coupled with a "new in an old school kind of way," it of course maintains a loyalty to Cave's measured, exceptional, lifelong obsession with storytelling.

Dusty, artificial drums and a sparse organ prepare the virtuous crowd for the baritone chimes of Cave's voice: 'We No Who U R' opens the proceedings. Vocal harmonies and distant synthesisers decorate choruses which are sparse in nature and sentiment, "We know who you are, We know where you live, And we know there's no need to forgive." After four minutes, the leading single passes by in a similar to the way it arrives.

Rolls on the snare and improvised piano, 'Water's Edge' feels very much like decorating an abandoned flat. There is an onus on texture and instrumentation to develop the songs throughout. From the beginning you hear appearances of inconsequential woodwind, layers of sparkling keyboard motifs, warm pushes of strings and washes of guitars emerge and fade away as the pieces evolve. Cave characteristically wanders melodically as he sees fit, hanging on unease and playing with the tonality – see 'We Real Cool'.

I can't help but hear a clear separation between the highly developed instrumentation and Cave's dialogue. Where these emotional stories paint a vivid picture about growing old, the tension of fantasising teenagers or even the parochial image of tweeting birds, the music feels very much like a score; detached and emotive enough to explain the stories themselves. Cave assures that "it's the Bad Seeds that transform" his handful of ideas "into things of wonder."

"I believe in rapture, as I've seen your face," moments of the discourse are grasping and the intelligence in the songwriting is the records most poignant element. The references to the song 'Jubilee Street' after it's unveiling and juxtapositions in 'Finishing Jubilee Street' create a post-modern cage of themes and references within Push The Sky Away. Spurred on by the lackadaisical loops and double bass on the piece, it creates the perfect backdrop for the most captivating storytelling of the album, the charming 'Higgs Bosom Blues'.

There's a real cohesion and constant to the mood of the record in the aesthetics of sound and certainly in the sentiment, typified by the title track of the album 'Push The Sky Away'. It's as heartening as it is distressing: "you've got to just keep on pushing, push the sky away," this refrain amongst a minefield of challenges in both personal relationships and personal perspective is terrific. Whilst this isn’t a record which will entice or honey-trap a new audience, it is a piece which has a genuine brand of intelligence and depth that you’ll struggle to find on many releases this year.