Tom Waits
The Black Rider

THE REVIEW

The Black Rider. Considered the only misstep by followers and non-followers of "the great one" after an entire career built piece by piece from undisputed masterpieces such as "the great trilogy" (Swordfishtrombones/Frank's Wild Years/Rain Dogs) far superior to that of the Lord of the Rings or any other musical trilogy or otherwise, released in the history of mankind since the times when only sticks were played (probably tested on some unwary person) to today, or from masterpieces of the caliber of Bone Machine or Real Gone the last (but only for a short time) pulled out of our old magician's top hat.

The Black Rider a theatrical work by Robert Wilson that tells the story of a young man who, for the love of his beautiful (the downfall of every man always begins with a woman), promised to a wealthy hunter, accepts a deal with the devil to win a hunting challenge, (such imagination) and consequently the hand of the maiden, thus receiving magical bullets with which he will finally manage to bring her to the altar. Only that before finally being able to "consummate," he is ordered to shoot at a dove with the last magical bullet remaining in the barrel... and he, in his foolishness (a fool to us in Romagna) overtaken by tremendous excitement, already dreaming and savoring the climax of the story, instead of hitting the dove, ends up squarely hitting her, driving himself mad at the thought of having to consume his right hand until exhaustion and the end of his days, all while the devil laughs heartily by the warmth of his hearth.
On this heartbreaking story (I can already see you all with handkerchiefs in hand) is built the soundtrack of this work written with the help of a certain William Burroughs whom some of you may know as one of the great writers of the so-called Beat Generation (the best for me remains the old good devil Bukowski) along with Kerouac and Cassidy (the Jack and Neal of an old Waits song) who will contribute not only in the texts but also in the development of some songs, and the ever-faithful friends of our protagonist, the usual and indispensable Greg Cohen and Francis Thumm.
I believe that this album, distancing myself from the opinion of many, is a truly great work, especially in pieces like Lucky Day, Just the Right Bullets, The Briar and the Rose, and The Last Rose of Summer, pieces of truly great emotional impact that evoke and convey well the melancholy of the story of the play when listened to. Naturally, being a theatrical work, it also includes various high-quality instrumental pieces, although much is irretrievably lost when one can only listen to the soundtrack without a visual interpretation of it.
As usual, the poetry we have grown accustomed to from our artist is not missing, and thanks also to the contribution of the aforementioned Burroughs, this album is certainly not among the great masterpieces matured by the storyteller from Pomona, but nonetheless, a good purchase for those like myself who can no longer tear their ear away from every piece of work this old good devil has managed to pull out of the hat.