Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds: Her Majesty's Theatre, London

AT 55 NICK CAVE remains an impressive advert for the dissolute life. Squint at the guy on the stage of Her Majesty's Theatre and – flatter, sparser hair excepted – he's identical to the gothic stick-insect who thirty years ago battled his way out of Australia and into European postpunk consciousness in the age of wimpy haircut synthpop. In that sense he's also a convincing advert for sheer consistency, togged out in the same black suit and shirt, the same black dye on the lank hair that's become a signature of his persona.