When it comes to the rather expansive catalog of Tom Waits, there tend to be two flagship albums in the running for the title of the idiosyncratic songwriter’s best work. There’s Rain Dogs from 1985, a record close to the hearts of fans and critics alike, and then there is 1992’s Bone Machine, a different beast altogether, the one you don’t dare trifle with until you’re good and ready. Rain Dogs is the one longtime fans use to introduce Waits to the uninitiated. It’s a sampler of sorts showcasing every one of his various personas and being experimental but not too jarring. Bone Machine, though, is the one fans keep hidden amongst themselves, a secret treasure only the devout are privy to, and the seasoned are worthy of…

Simply put, Bone Machine is not for the faint of heart. Even by Waits’ standards, it’s a difficult listen, with its lyrical fixation on the macabre and its unhinged sonic palette. Yet because of this, it’s one that many see as Waits’ most fully realized work, one that if you as the listener overcome the challenge of confronting the album and in the process absorb all it has to offer, you come out the other side all the more grateful for having made the journey.