Tom Waits has, for years, been considered an arthouse favourite. He's not just a singer with an extremely identifiable voice, but a songwriter who has wrapped the despondence and fatalism of the last 40 years into incredible metaphors and stark details. Bone Machine follows this tradition in fine style, with spare but powerful instrumentals, fantastic subject matter, and of course, Waits' signature bourbon dripped voice that suggests he doesn't just smoke cigarettes, but eats them.

Album-opener "Black Wings" and the eerie "Ocean Doesn't Want Me" display Waits' lyrical genius. In fact, lyrical is a misnomer. He doesn't write songs, he writes poetry and sets it to music that is perfectly appropriate to the mood and meaning he wants conveyed. In "Black Wings", he discusses an unnamed protagonist whom no one knows and everyone fears, and even in the kindest of circumstance, refuse to know him. He exposes the inability of people to know and trust each other, and our fear of difference all in a 4.5 minute song. Beautiful. "Ocean Doesn't Want Me" reveals the fear of loneliness we all share, and the degenerating madness that can accompany it.

"Goin' Out West" is a tribute, albeit inadvertently, to Tyler Durden. Waits' masculinity is palpable, and he makes you want to go smoke 10 cigarettes and punch someone out, or get chased down 169 by a train of cops. Listen with care.

The rest of the album evokes a wide range of emotions, but the end result is the same. Waits offers us a raw look at ourselves as flesh and bones, and asks us to waltz up, drunk and disconcerted, and dance. May we always have such inspiration.

Now, I'm goin' out west, where they'll appreciate me. Tune in.