Tom Waits
Asylum Years

THE REVIEW

We are unfortunately banal, I know, we are subjugated by this pettiness, especially those of us who live by the highway. There are more refined works, I know, works that have depth, and how insipid these collections of old hits are, I know, I know..

Yet, there are certain things that raise the skin and brush the nerves, that can only be described by emotion and disillusionment, and this poor album is one of them. When we are alone, on the fringes of this crooked society, in these rainy evenings where we feel left behind, marginalized, on the edge, when they make us feel dirty and cowardly, when nothing goes right and there is simply no reason to have fun, how these mournful notes help. Not sublime, for heaven's sake, rather desperate.

And I wonder how much longer I will be able to cry alone in this house, looking at these miserable and disgusting places, hearing the sound of traffic dying and killing. I wonder how many more times I will be able to return home, leaving the station and its shiny tracks, letting myself be fascinated. Every winter, winter after winter. Me, without a car, walking through the wet air, through the water raised by the vehicles indifferently flowing beside me, how many times will I survive this humiliation.

And how much charm in these notes, in these aged piano keys, when the moon, in the evening, even over the highway, peeps in at my window, behind the decrepit shutter, coming to visit me, to comfort me, to wrap me in the embrace of life that I always lacked. I know, another thousand words could be spent on other works of this singer of the margin, but these notes evoke memories that tear at melancholy and already open wounds in the soul and make me feel bad, drown me, choke me with cries.

Come, oh sick spirits, gather here in the underworld of the suburbs, come and erase all the atrocities, the blackmail and abuses that these cowards are committing, come and take your revenge on them, who have forgotten sensitivity, have forgotten it and sold it for the sake of having for a few coins, condemning you, relegating you, afflicting you.

Come, someone is waiting for you.