Tom Waits
Alice
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Tom Waits
Alice
Anti, 2002
RiYL: Nick Cave, Captain Beefheart, Lewis Carroll |
Waits delves even deeper into these myths and allegations, slamming his pitchfork into the narrative and rewarding us with a twisted fable to feast on. Written in 1992 for a Robert Wilson opera, the 15 tracks on Alice were actually performed by an avant-garde ensemble at Hamburg's Thalia Theater for 18 months, with a cast assembled by none other then Waits himself.
Once dubbed "the lost Waits masterpiece," Alice has now been found, and is still deserving of the title "masterpiece" (though for us Waits-heads, that sentiment is grotesquely redundant). The album's songs do not attack you with bombast but rather smother you in a slow burn, like gathering frost suffocating a mournful shut-in. The room gets darker every minute as a brushed snare trickles down the wall and organs pump eloquently but ferociously steady, rarely letting the pace waver.
Above all, there is Waits narrating tragedies of human desire, casualties of want and need. On the title track, the hero skates on soft, cool ice, recalling a new love in which everything floated smoothly and without harm. Yet, once he feels his loss, and he's alone, he skates with scorn, carving his lover's name in the ice, slicing it deep with the same vicious energy he'll eventually use to razor his own throat. Elsewhere, "Poor Edward" finds obsession overtaking him to the point where he feels his love is his "evil twin." Maudlin violins wail for answers to prayers "of things only heard in hell."
In the end, much like in "Wonderland," what you dream is your reality may be satisfying enough, at least enough to soften life's devastating blows. On "Fish & Bird," a tale spun by a bird in love with a whale, the unrequited protagonist aquiesces "But I'll always pretend you're mine / Though I know we both must part / You can live in my heart."
JOSH PERRY |
