Tom Waits

When Tom Waits was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame earlier this year, his speech made no concessions for his reputation: “They say I have no hits and I’m difficult to work with, and they say that like it’s a bad thing.”

Of course, Waits’ yardstick for success is about as conventional as the music he makes. But Bad as Me, Waits’ 17th studio release, reigns in his trademark growl and imaginative lyrics to create a polished and complete album, providing an accessible gateway while still showcasing the musical talents that have made him one of rock’s anti-heroes.

Waits has adopted many personas throughout his four-decade career—sentimental crooner, boozy alley cat, eccentric rambler—and Bad as Me hearkens back to all of these illustrious eras in his life, each individual track acting as a glossy time-capsule for his many hats. Throughout his career, Waits has cast himself as a wayward vagrant, but his one-of-a-kind theatrical presence is always inventive.

Waits has never been a romantic, and on the instrumentally sparse come-on track “Kiss Me,” he pleads, “I want you to kiss me like a stranger once again.” The track, simultaenously vigorous and restrained, could have been lifted from his 1973 debut Closing Time. The playfully titled “Hell Broke Luce” is a perfect rendition of his 1980s grit, feral barks steamrolling through the chain-gang percussion clatter. Although Waits is known for his unrestrained approach to production, the more tightly controlled songs on Bad As Me do not compromise his reputation; instead, they show Waits’ command over his chameleonic nature.

Years from now, Waits’ indefatigable body of work will defy the commercial treatment of records labels trying to cash in with an Essential Tom Waits compilation. He’s not yet in full-on retrospective mode, but Bad As Me already constitutes an authentic representation of his own personal character ensemble.