Like Bob Dylan, the first thing you notice about Tom Waits is his voice. And what a voice it is: marinated in whiskey and tobacco-stained, impossibly deep and gravelly, Waits sounds like no one else. Unique as his singing voice is, it's not as intriguing or important as his writing voice. Waits is a master narrative storyteller and method actor, assuming completely convincing character roles as he growls out highly literate Beat poetry.
His music is as original and expansive as his words and voice. Whether he uses unconventional percussion, roaring guitars, pedal steel, horns or oddly pensive and beautiful piano, Waits is the rare artist that lets the song dictate the music. "Dirt in the Ground" contemplates mortality over bass clarinet and intricate piano, "All Stripped Down" shows Waits' shrieking falsetto chronicling Judgement Day, and "Jesus Gonna Be Here" is a disjointed acoustic blues. Waits assumes a hilarious braggadocio in the grinding "Goin' Out West" and creates a surprisingly touching tale of regret in the violin-laced "Whistle Down the Wind". The Ramones covered his "I Don't Wanna Grow Up" in typically bang-up fashion; Waits' original is better for the genuine denial he brings to the deceptively upbeat heartbeat chords.
Bone Machine is a 16-song cycle of loss, despair and mortality that perfectly bookends the millenium. It is both Waits' most consistently satisfying work and the best introduction to this unique artist's singular vision.
- Jared O'Connor
A singular vision