Nick Cave at 50 seems as relaxed as any retired gent. But he works harder than ever too, last year alone producing the soundtrack (with Warren Ellis) to Andrew Dominik's epic deconstruction of the Jesse James myth and fronting the magnificently puerile Grinderman. Where other middle-aged men might take up fishing or golf, the Bad Seeds effectively reconfigured themselves into a “satellite band”, most definitely rocking even as they satirised every cliché of the oversexed bluesman.

Cave always did have a funny side. Even in his hysterical big-haired pomp, his self-conscious invocation of Elvis played up the King's absurd side. His cover of Leonard Cohen's already knowing Tower of Song may well be the most lugubrious performance ever committed to tape.

But Dig Lazarus, Dig!!!, unbelievably the Bad Seeds' fourteenth studio album, sustains a level of casual insouciance throughout that makes it a career standout. The acclaimed Abattoir Blues/The Lyre of Orpheus from 2004 was indubitably impressive, two albums of consistently high quality material. But it felt as if it was doing listeners good, rather than pleasing them.

This record is far more fun, 11 well-resolved songs that effectively refine a trademark sound. The catchy, clanging We Call Upon the Author is Cave deconstructing his own poetic gift (delightfully presented in an attractive booklet) as the Bad Seeds chant: “We call upon the author to explain.” “Prolix, prolix, nothing a pair of scissors can't fix,” he protests.

Albert Goes West is a surprisingly straightforward road song that wouldn't jar on American rock radio. Even the Stooges-quoting Today's Lesson relies on jaunty handclaps rather than raw power.

Notably, Lie Down Here (& Be My Girl) attempts to marry Cave's own classic Deanna and the crude Sixties anthems of lusty farm boys the Troggs (ie, it's perfect), while the churning title track turns Lazarus into Larry and tells a picaresque tale of a man who might not have requested resurrection.

Experienced Cave watchers though will be most intrigued by the elegant two-chord chug of the closing More News From Nowhere, in which he references old characters and collaborators in a spot of light self-mythologising.

Frankly, listening to this and looking at his Jason Lee moustache, can a venture into comedy be far away?

(Mute)

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