Review Summary: ...
‘Bone Machine’ is Tom Wait’s 13th studio album and was released in 1992. Through out his career, Waits’ has been known as an innovator, spanning genres constantly yet always stamping his unique sound on everything he does. With this considered, Bone Machine is an absolute triumph. It’s a nightmarish, claustrophobic stumble, littered with grimy tales of murder, death and decay.
The album begins with the foreboding ‘Earth Died Screaming’, a foggy march into the darkness of what’s to come. As Waits’ wails ‘The earth died screaming, as I lay dreaming’ besides clattering percussion, he sets the tone instantaneously. Just from this song, you know this is not going to be fun. The first thing a listener may notice is the production of the songs, which could be described as substandard. However, I believe this muffled sound complements the sinister songs brilliantly, making them sound used and murky, only adding to the haunting atmosphere.
The next song on the album is ‘Dirt in the Ground’, a slow, mournful forecast of life. That no matter what anyone does, eventually ‘we’re all gonna be just dirt in the ground’. Instead of being a rapturous and raspy croak, Waits’ voice sounds painfully high-pitched and delicate, and any fan will know that Waits’ voice, as effective as it may be, is normally anything but delicate. Yet, this, coupled with the sluggish, droning brass and restrained piano makes for an incredibly sincere and touching song. Unfortunately, the album does fade into obscurity for the next couple of songs, which can only be described as insane. ‘Such a Scream’ is less a song, and more a collection of sounds and although ‘All Stripped Down’ does regain some composure towards the end, neither really have much effect on the listener. However, the 5th track, ‘Who Are You?’ is a stunningly tender ballad and completely shifts the mood of the listener from the chaotic previous tracks. The unhurried, multi-layered guitar-riffs and steady brushes flatter the incredible lyrics as Waits’ sings ‘how do your pistol and your bible and your sleeping pills go. Are you still jumping out of windows in expensive clothes?’
Possibly the most haunting and unnerving track on the album is the short, spoken-word piece ‘The Ocean Doesn’t Want Me’. It’s a disturbing tale of suicidal thoughts, as a man watches the sea and dreams of his death. He ponders how easy it would be, thinking ‘All they will find is my beer and my shirt. The rip tide is raging and the lifeguard is away, but the ocean doesn’t want me today’. It’s intensely dismal, and really is a testament to Waits’ lyrical ability. It really does feel like a journey into a completely unbalanced psychosis, as if the character Waits’ has created is just one step away from taking his life, just one step away from a complete breakdown. It takes genius to be able to evoke such empathy from the listener and to be able to take the listener to the darkest place anyone can be in.
The next stand out track in the album is ‘Little Rain (For Clyde)’. After a run of quite ominous songs, this track acts like a gasp of fresh air. Even though the subject matter again is just as sad as any track on the album, instead of sounding angry or threatening, it sounds poignant and incredibly heartfelt, and with heartbreaking passages like ‘She was 15 years old and never seen the ocean. She climbed into a van with a vagabond; and the last thing she said was “I love you mom”’ accompanied by beautiful piano and slide guitar, it’s without a doubt the best of the gentler songs. However, the album takes another dive into the grotesque with the next two songs, ‘In the Colosseum’ and ‘Goin Out West’. The latter is probably one of the best songs on the album. It’s dark and heavily distorted guitar, thumbing bass and crashing drums really breathe life into the album, after what’s been quite a slow and dismal experience. It’s simply a stomping rock song worthy of any of the alternative rock greats, yet it still encompasses Waits’ grubby words fantastically, which can be heard as he howls ‘I don’t need no makeup, I got real scars’. The next stand out track after this is the seemingly upbeat and cheerful ‘I Don’t Wanna Grow Up’, my favourite off the album. One of the best aspects of this album is how all the characters that feature in the songs have an eerie instability about them, and I think this is epitomized magnificently in ‘I Don’t Wanna Grow Up’, as it’s far more clever and subtle. Even though at first, the song seems happy and merry, with its bubbly melody and chugging distortion, on second glance this song is just as tragic as the others. It’s lines like ‘When I see my parents fight, I don’t wanna grow up’ that give this song a bittersweet edge to it.
The album ends with ‘That Feel’, a sigh of relief at the end of a suffocating journey. Even though throughout album the message given has been very much one of desperation and misery, in this last track, Waits is saying that no matter what happens to you, you’ll always have your soul. ‘There’s one thing you can’t lose, it’s that feel. Your pants, your shirt, your shoes, but not that feel’. This last song rounds off the album superbly, as Bone Machine is a dark tunnel, yet there’s a light at the end of it that makes you want to listen to it over and over again. In conclusion, this album is practically a masterpiece, an astonishing achievement for a man whose career has span almost 40 years. It’s a wonderful blend of schizophrenic tub-thumpers, grotesque tales and beautiful ballads, and personally, it’s one of my favourite albums of all time.
Highlights: Little Rain (For Clyde); Goin Out West; I Don’t Wanna Grow Up; That Feel
