I think Tin Machine was unfairly dismissed.
Featuring David Bowie and guitar-genius Reeves Gabrels, who would accompany Bowie in his solo works through the 1990s before joining the Cure, Tin Machine’s output consisted of two studio albums and Live: Oy Vey, Baby. All of it was slammed for being woefully out of touch at the time they were released.
Had Tin Machine’s self-titled 1989 debut arrived five years later, it might very well have been a success. Up against the sound du jour, big-hair metal, Tin Machine was distinctly different, odd even – and even some of Bowie’s biggest fans had a hard time swallowing this one.
The stripped-down, raw, back-to-basics approach that Tin Machine took just didn’t have a niche to fill at the time, and it’s surprising that 1991’s Tin Machine II even saw the light of day. Then came Live: Oy Vey, Baby on July 2, 1992, a welcome but even bigger mystery.
To prove just how few people were interested in this concert recording, the used copy I snagged appeared to be virtually unused. There were no significant scuffs on the case (not even shelf-wear), nothing on the disc, and the artwork was in mint condition, minus a corner having been cut from the booklet.
I’m not sure who they thought Live: Oy Vey, Baby was going to appeal to, but as one of the few admitted fans of Tin Machine, I’m glad it was at least released – even if the LP did go quickly out of print.
It was all too rough, too angular and quirky, and the mainstream music world just wasn’t prepared for this sound. To be frank, I’m not sure they’re ready even now.
- How David Bowie’s ‘Reality’ Stood Out For What It Was Not - September 29, 2023
- Metallica’s ‘St. Anger’ Was Always Much Better Than They Said - June 8, 2023
- How King Crimson Defined an Unsettled Post-9/11 Landscape on ‘Power to Believe’ - March 5, 2023
