Tom Waits: Bad As Me – review (original) (raw)

"I'm the boat that won't sink, I won't sleep a wink," declares Tom Waits, perhaps explaining the rollercoasting urgency that runs through his 17th album and the first of completely new material in seven years. Now 61, with Keith Richards in his band and his voice sounding like an American Shane MacGowan with a heavy cold after a night spent in a grave, Waits's songs hurtle past in waves of blistering energy and imagery. Demented New Orleans and Depression-era blues, Elvis-type tearjerkers, accordion laments, rollicking Birthday Party punk and madcap T Rex distortions of rock'n'roll are delivered with fire, brimstone and recordings of machine guns and horses. Waits's lyrics are as unpredictable and inspired as ever, whether drawing political parallels between the 1930s and now ("someone makes money when there's blood in the streets") or comically grumbling about "big fuckin' ditches in the middle of the road". As ever, he's doing things his own way, with songs catchy enough to suggest everyone should accompany him for the ride.