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Writing your very first review starting with what you ultimately consider your favorite album, all on the day of the twenty-fifth anniversary of its release. Let's do it.
Seattle, early '90s. If you've done your homework, your mind will already be traveling towards names and sounds that were protagonists of the grunge scene, which, at that precise period, was experiencing its peak of splendor. Despite some genre milestones already present in the market and the charts, there was still a reserved seat at the table of the greats for Alice in Chains who in 1992 released Dirt, the second full-length album by the band led by the Staley-Cantrell duo, a record into which they poured all their demons.
The album cover prepares the listener for the thirteen tracks to come, a journey in the desert where shades of red and orange dominate, a desolate scenario in which a female figure surrenders to the bare ground disappearing little by little, perhaps the perfect image to represent the dimension of abandonment in which the blond frontman lived, a son of drug addiction that played a very heavy role in the lyrics of the album but even more in his life, which ended prematurely ten years later.
Dirt is a platter with harsh and lysergic sounds that for about an hour forces the listener to wear the shoes of someone who, now powerless, asks for help but without receiving it; heroin abuse and the dilemmas of the soul are at the base of the decadent lyrics of this album and equally desperate are the music. Layne Staley's voice, the absolute protagonist of the work, changes register at will freely wandering among (negative) emotions suitably supported by the choruses of guitarist Jerry Cantrell who, besides effectively executing the two-voice harmonization that is the band's trademark, puts his six-string with acidic sounds at the service. Completing the package is the solid drumming of Sean Kinney, effective even in the most syncopated parts, while Mike Starr’s Spector emits grating roars down in the kingdom of low frequencies. All the ingredients are there, the album can start from here and it will be a crescendo but only in qualitative terms because in the end, at the bottom of the hole, you'll feel so small.
The show is opened by “Them Bones” with an anxious verse but with a chorus that almost seems to want to reassure the listener by reminding them what the only true destination is (gonna end up a big 'ol pile of the bones). It is followed by a defiant “Dam That River” leading into the psychedelic “Rain When I Die”, a semi-ballad with an obsessive riff telling of a tormented love (could she love me again, or will she hate me?). It’s the turn of the schizophrenic “Sickman” before reaching the touching “Rooster”, dedicated to Cantrell's father, a Vietnam veteran, a track seemingly peaceful at the start but with an explosive chorus accompanied by one of the frontman's best performances on the microphone. “Junkhead”, as the name suggests, is a journey into a junkie's mind (you can’t understand a user's mind but try with your books and degrees). The title track “Dirt” fully expresses Staley's desperation (you use your talent to dig me under and cover me with dirt) rocking the listener with its middle-eastern flavor. Back to more aggressive sounds with “Godsmack”, fast and almost amusing, and “Hate to Feel”, with a blues vein and a limping rhythm. What follows is a closing trident that alone is worth the purchase of the album, I say this with all due respect to the previous tracks. Just a few steps from the end, Dirt pulls out of its arsenal three absolute gems to conclude the journey into the abyss and conquer that seat at the aforementioned table of the greats.
“Angry Chair” captures with a paranoid intro before flowing into its chant to which a sharp pre-chorus is contrasted and everything concludes with a more heartfelt chorus. Sanity is completely abandoned between dark words (candles red I have a pair, shadows dancing everywhere, burning on the angry chair) and hypnotic sounds dirty with effects. After reason, it's time to lose even the last hopes, “Down in a Hole”, the pride of the platter, rends hearts and lacerates flesh, a two-voice ballad to admit one's defeat at the hands of drugs. I’d like to fly but my wings have been so denied, a cry I would dare to define generational, words that anyone could borrow. The final act is entrusted to “Would?”, whose opening bass line is as iconic as the initial riff of that “Smells Like Teen Spirit” that made history the previous year. A disarming and nervous track destined to become Alice in Chains' most famous song, posing that immortal final question at its close (If I would, could you?) screamed against the world. And then silence.
Ultimately, Dirt is an album as dark and dense as pitch, a suffocating sonic experience that fully represents a musical trend that in a few years would have completely disappeared. To assign a grade to a piece of history like this would be almost disrespectful, I'll simply tip my hat (once again) and play the album again from the start. I invite the reader to do the same.
Tracklist Lyrics and Samples
01 Them Bones (02:29)
I believe, them bones are me
Some say, we're born into the grave
I feel so alone, gon' end up a
Big ole pile a them bones
Dust rise, right on over my time
Empty, fossil of the new scene
I feel so alone, gon' end up a
Big ole pile a them bones
Toll due, bad dream come true
I lie, dead gone under red sky
I feel so alone, gon' end up a
Big ole pile a them -
I feel so alone, gon' end up a
Big ole pile a them -
I feel so alone, gon' end up a
Big ole pile a them bones
02 Dam That River (03:09)
I broke you in the canyon
I drowned you in the lake
You a snake that I would trample
Only thing I'd not embrace
Oh, you couldn't dam that river
And maybe I don't give a damn anyway
So you couldn't dam that river
And it washed me so far away
I pushed and then you stumbled
I kicked you in the face
You stare at me so hollow
Got to keep that killin' pace
Oh, you couldn't dam that river
And maybe I don't give a damn anyway
So you couldn't dam that river
And it washed me so far away
I burned the place around you
I hit you with a rake
You piss upon my candle
So proving you're a fake
Oh, you couldn't dam thar river
And maybe I don't give a damn anyway
So you couldn't dam that river
And it washed me so far away
04 Sickman (05:29)
what the hell am i?
thousand eyes, a fly
lucky then i'd be
in one day deceased
sickman, sickman, sickman, sickman
i can feel the wheel, but i can't steer
when my thoughts become my biggest fear
ah, what's the difference, i'll die
in this sick world of mine
what the hell am i
leper from inside
inside wall of peace
dirty and diseased
sickman, sickman, sickman, sickman
i can see the end is getting near
i won't rest until my head is clear
ah, what's the difference, i'll die
in this sick world of mine
(yeah, though i walked through tthe valley of rape
an despair
with head high an eyes alert
i tread on plane of many
we who are of good nature and intention,
but cannot touch on the dark
recesses of memory
and pain learned, so come walk
with me, feel the pain,
and release it)
can you see the end?
choke on me my friend
must to drown these thoughts
purity over rot
what the hell am i worn eroded pride
saddened 10 miles wide
i'm gonna let it slide
sickman, sickman, sickman, sickman
i can feel the wheel but i can't steer
when my thoughts become my biggest fear
ah, what's the difference i'll die
in this sickworld of mine
ahh, etc., etc.
05 Rooster (06:15)
Ain't found a way to kill me yet
Eyes burn with stinging sweat
Seems every path leads me to nowhere, mmm
Wife and kids household pet
Army green was no safe bet
The bullets scream to me from somewhere, mmm
Here they come to snuff the rooster, oh yeah
Yeah here come the rooster, yeah
You know he ain't gonna die
No, no, no oh, you know he ain't gonna die
Here they come to snuff the rooster, oh yeah
Yeah here come the rooster, yeah
You know he ain't gonna die, oh
No, no, no oh, you know he ain't gonna die
Walkin' tall machine gun men
They spit on me in my home land
Gloria sent me pictures of my boy, mmm
Got my pills 'gainst mosquito death
My buddy's breathing his dyin' breath
Oh God please won't you help me make it through
Here they come to snuff the rooster, oh yeah
Yeah here come the rooster, yeah
You know he ain't gonna die
No, no, no oh, you know he ain't gonna die
06 Junkhead (05:09)
(Junk, Fuck)
A good night, the best in a long time
A new friend turned me on to an old favorite
Nothing better than a dealer who's high
Be high, convince them to buy
What's my drug of choice?
Well, what have you got?
I don't go broke
And I do it a lot
Seem so sick to the hypocrite norm
Running their boring drills
But we are an elite race of our own
The stoners, junkies and freaks
Are you happy? I am, man
Content and fully aware
Money, status, nothing to me.
'Cause your life is empty and bare
What's my drug of choice?
Well, what have you got?
I don't go broke
And I do it a lot
You can't understand a user's mind
But try with your books and degrees
If you let yourself go and opened your mind
I'll bet you'd be doing like me
And it ain't so bad
What's my drug of choice?
Well, what have you got?
Say I don't go broke
And I do it a lot
Say, I do it a lot!
Say, I do it a lot!
Say, I do it a lot!
Say, I do it a lot!
07 Dirt (05:16)
I Have Never Felt Such Frustration
Or Lack Of Self Control
I Want You To Kill Me
And Dig Me Under, I Wanna Live No More
One Who Doesn't Care Is One Who Shouldn't Be
I've Tried To Hide Myself From What Is
Wrong For Me, For Me
I Want To Taste Dirty, A Stinging Pistol
In My Mouth, On My Tongue
I Want You To Scrape Me From The Walls
And Go Crazy Like You've Made Me
One who doesn't care is one who shouldn't be
Iv'e tried to hide myself from what is
Wrong for me, for me
You, You Are So Special
You Have The Talent To
Make Me Feel Like Dirt
And You, You Use Your
Talent To Dig Me Under
And Cover Me With Dirt
08 God Smack (03:50)
Care Not For The Men Who Wonder
Straw That Broke Your Back, You're Under
Cast All Them Aside Who Care
Empty Eyes And Dead End Stare
Don't You Know That None Are Blind
To The Lie, And You Think I Don't Find
What You Hide?
What In God's Name Have You Done?
Stick Your Arm For Some Real Fun
For The Horse You've Grown Much Fonder
Than For Me, That I Don't Ponder
As The Hair Of One Who Bit You
Smiling Bite Your Own Self, Too
And I Think That You're Not Blind
To The Ones You Left Behind
I'll Be Here
What In Gods Name Have You done?
Stick Your Arm For Some Real Fun
So Be Yearning All Your Life
Twisting, Turning Like A Knife
Now You Know The Reasons Why
Can't Get High Or You Will Die
Or You'll Die
What In Gods Name Have You Done?
Stick Your Arm For Some Real Fun
So Your Sickness Weighs A Ton
And God's Name Is Smack For Some
10 Hate to Feel (05:16)
What's gone wrong
I can't see straight
Been too long
So full of hate
What the fuck will it take
Drown myself in my wake
Another shaggy D.A.
Now a dog, shake my leg
Plastic man, paper face
Candy heart, what a waste
Gotta change, set a date
Eat my cake, lick my plate
Stare at me with empty eyes and
Point your words at me
Mirror on the wall will show you
What you're scared to see
I can see
Wish I couldn't ee at all
I can feel
Wish I couldn't feel at all
Hate to see
Wish I couldn't see at all
Hate to feel
Wish I couldn't feel at all
So climb the walls,
Thin my blood now
And I crawl, back to bed now
What the hell, gotta rest
Aching pain in my chest
Lucky me, now I'm set
Little bug for a pet
New Orleans, gotta get
Pin cushion medicine
Used to be curious
Now the shit's sustenance
All this time I swore I'd never
Be like my old man
What the hey it's time to face
Exactly what I am
I can see
Wish I couldn't see at all
I can feel
Wish I couldn't feel at all
Hate to see
Wish I couldn't see at all
Hate to feel
Wish I couldn't feel at all
-Solo-
What the hell, gotta rest
Aching pain in my chest
Lucky me, now I'm set
Little bug for a pet
New Orleans, gotta get
Pin cushion medicine
Used to be curious
Now the shit's sustenance
All this time I swore I'd never
Be like my old man
What the hey it's time to face
Exactly who I am
I can see
Wish I couldn't see at all
I can feel
Wish I couldn't feel at all
Hate to see
Wish I couldn't see at all
Hate to feel
Wish I couldn't feel at all
What the hell, gotta rest
Aching pain in my chest
Lucky me, now I'm set
Little bug for a pet
New Orleans, gotta get
Pin cushion medicine
Used to be curious
Now the shit's sustenance
All this time I swore I'd never
Be like my old man
What the hey it's time to face
Exactly what I am
I can see
Wish I couldn't see at all
I can feel
Wish I couldn't feel at all
Hate to see
Wish I couldn't see at all
Hate to feel
Wish I couldn't feel at all
11 Angry Chair (04:47)
Sitting on an angry chair
Angry walls that steal the air
Stomach hurts and I don't care
What do I see across the way, hey
See myself molded in clay, oh
Stares at me, yeah I'm afraid, hey
Changing the shape of his face, aw yeah
Candles red I have a pair
Shadows dancing everywhere
Burning on the angry chair
Little boy made a mistake, hey
Pink cloud has now turned to gray, oh
All that I want is to play, hey
Get on your knees, time to pray, boy
I don't mind, yeah
I don't mind, I-I-I
I don't mind, yeah
I don't mind, I-I-I
Lost my mind, yeah
But I don't mind, I-I-I
Can't find it anywhere
I don't mind
Corporate prison, we stay, hey
I'm a dull boy, work all day, oh
So I'm strung out anyway, hey
Loneliness is not a phase
Field of pain is where I graze
Serenity is far away
Saw my reflection and cried, hey
So little hope that I died, oh
Feed me your lies, open wide, hey
Weight of my heart, not the size, oh
I don't mind, yeah
I don't mind, I-I-I
I don't mind, yeah
I don't mind, I-I-I
Lost my mind, yeah
But I don't mind, I-I-I
Can't find it anywhere
I don't mind, I-I-I
Pink cloud has now turned to gray
All that I want is to play
Get on your knees time to pray, boy
12 Down in a Hole (05:38)
Bury me softly in this womb
I give this part of me for you
Sand rains down and here I sit
Holding rare flowers
In a tomb... in bloom
Down in a hole and
I don't know if I can be saved
See my heart I decorate it like a grave
You don't understand who they
Thought I was supposed to be
Look at me now a man
Who won't let himself be
Down in a hole, feelin' so small
Down in a hole, losin' my soul
I'd like to fly
But my wings have been so denied
Down in a hole and they've put all
The stones in their place
I've eaten the sun so my tongue
Has been burned of the taste
I have been guilty
Of kicking myself in the teeth
I will speak no more
of my feelings beneath
Down in a hole, feelin' so small
Down in a hole, losin' my soul
I'd like to fly
But my wings have been so denied
Bury me softly in this womb
Oh I want to be inside of you
I give this part of me for you
Oh I want to be inside of you
Sand rains down and here I sit
Holding rare flowers
(Oh I want to be inside of you)
In a tomb...in bloom
Oh I want to be inside...
Down in a hole, feelin' so small
Down in a hole, losin' my soul
Down in a hole, feelin' so small
Down in a hole, outta control
I'd like to fly
But my wings have been so denied
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Other reviews
By Asjklf
Alice in Chains were more than just simple Nirvana clones, as they remain a point of reference for many bands today.
The lyrics of Dirt, supported by a sometimes claustrophobic sound, narrate Staley’s descent into the hell of drug addiction.
By Rooster
If suffering had a voice, it would not be much different from Staley’s.
The title track, however, is perhaps the piece that most unsettles the listener, it is the central moment, when Staley slowly paints the fresco of his despair.
By andrewramone
Goosebump-inducing atmospheres, emotions never felt before; dark and touching songs that leave a strong sense of melancholy.
The main theme of the album is the singer’s relationship with drugs: to directly and explicitly convey what it means to be dependent.
By Starblazer
a record that, as soon as you listen to it, conquers you and penetrates your veins with a virulence that 'Nevermind' and 'Ten' can’t even dream of.
'Down In A Hole' leaves you breathless for the perfect intertwining of Jerry’s and Layne’s voices, PURE POETRY.
By Omega Kid
Dirt moves in an almost perfect balance between metal spirit and pop fascination, where everyone has their space.
There are no minor tracks or filler in Dirt, a characteristic that would already be a minor miracle for the recording industry.
