Dear Snoopy, Aussie Dolla and Peter,

It’s four in the morning. The North American tour still rings in my ears. I returned to London last night. I’m mad with jet lag and Susie is asleep beside me.

I think of The Bad Seeds. I think of Jim Sclavunos, the dynamic force around which so much of the music revolves; Larry Mullins, our not-so-secret weapon; George Vjestica’s gorgeous guitar playing; the brilliant Colin Greenwood, who stepped into Martyn Casey’s illustrious shoes with such dedication; Carly Paradis, who changed everything – free and wild and wonderful; Warren Ellis, gloriously and deliriously destroying himself each night; the great Wendi Rose, who leads our brilliant vocalists and who has collaborated with me on and off for over twenty years; Miça Townsend, our newest member, a stunning presence on stage; the monumentally magnificent T Jae Cole; Janet Ramus and her powerful racked vocals, especially on ‘Henry Lee,’ – such a poignant moment; I think of them all – The Bad Seeds, so deft, so expressive, so anarchic, so bloody awesome, and all I feel at this restless hour is a profound gratitude.

I think of our sound crew, the lighting crew, the video crew, and our long-suffering and heroic stage crew – scrambling around searching for far-flung microphones – I think of my tour managers, Ton and Jacek, of my tour assistant, Naja, of the production team, the backliners, the riggers, the video team, the drivers, Chef Jay, and the caterers. I think of them all, and I think of my team on the ground, and I feel nothing but the purest gratitude.

And I think of you, the audience, pouring your love into every performance, transfixed – you temporary angels, surrendering, transforming, transcending and singing ‘Into My Arms’, in unison, each night, my God. I have the utmost gratitude.

And I think of North America itself. A dark and undeniably desperate energy runs through its cities. Yet, it still retains its extraordinary and irresistible character – a place like no other and one that I love, filled with such dissonant beauty, such remarkable people. I am overwhelmed with gratitude for its endless hospitality.

Peter, you ask if God is an energy; well, of course, just as God is a lack of energy. God is a reason for being and a reason for not being. He exists within His presence and is present within His absence. God is in the songs we play, and in the silence in between. He is in both the roar and the stillness of the crowd. Whatever force that is, whatever energy, God remains an enigma to me – a mystery to which I bow my head – in worship, yes, but in the most profound gratitude.

Love, Nick

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