Musician Chris Church reminded me that Tin Machine was released on this day, 5/22 in 1989. Here's what he had to say:
"The self-titled debut by Tin Machine was released on May 22 in 1989. I never understood or cared about the negative things that some people (even David Bowie's own fans, who seemingly are supposed to have supported his often drastic artistic turns) have said about this album over the years. I made my mind up right away and my opinion is strongly reinforced every time I listen. I frikkin love it. Bowie wanted to play guitar and be in a loud rock band, but it's still sophisticated and whip smart. I don't know if the haters even listened to it. Yes, I'll always love "Hunky Dory," "Scary Monsters," "Low," etc... I love so much of his wonderful, unique music, but most days, this one is my absolute favorite. The Sales Brothers' rhythm section is a thrill ride (opening track "Heaven's In Here" is as exciting and in the moment as rock music can be), Bowie sounds completely engaged - and when the song calls for it, properly artfully disengaged (see the brilliant "I Can't Read.") Reeves Gabrels is a guitar monster on a rampage (every damn song). Disagree all you want, it doesn't matter at all to me. This. Album. ROCKS."
I can't say I disagree with any of this.
But I added this:
On
May 31st, 1989, the first (and only) International Rock Awards were held
in NYC. The Replacements, Living Colour, Keith Richards and David Bowie
were the musical acts I can remember. But it wasn't Bowie, it was the
debut of Tin Machine. They played "Heaven's In Here" and it blew my
mind. A few days later, while on my way to work, I notice these posters
plasted all over buildings. They had a silhouette of four bodies
standing and leaning, and again, if memory serves, nothing but "THE
WORLD" was written below the silhouettes. The World was a short-lived,
hole in the wall rock club on the Lower East Side. After some sleuthing,
me and some co-workers figured it out. We got on a line with the other
diehards and got to see Tin Machine in a very small room, blow our faces out. I have loved
this record ever since.
I also wrote this on May 22nd, 2019:
On this day, 30 years ago, David Bowie unleashed Tin Machine's debut
record into the world. Misunderstood from day one, and still considered
one of the low points in Bowie's career, Tin Machine confused almost
everyone. But not me. I loved it.
The music on Tin Machine's debut is metallic. It's both art rock and
punk rock. It has some amazing music on it, as well as some true crap.
As All Music writes, "A remarkable recording for many reasons, the debut
of Tin Machine predates by nearly half a decade, much of the
guitar-oriented alternative pop that followed the grunge explosion of
1991-1992. This record would have been more popular had it been released
five or six years later"
The problem with the record is that it is unsure of what it wants to be.
Bowie wanted it to be a band, so drummer Hunt Sales gets to sing a bit.
Bowie also gives the spotlight, more often than not, to guitarist
Reeves Gabrels, who shines at times, but also occasionally overplays to
an uncomfortable extent. With the exception of the brilliant "I Can't
Read," a song that remained in Bowie's setlist years later, little
sounded like anything Bowie had done prior. The same could be said for
just about every record Bowie had released from 1966 until his death 50
years later. It's just that this time, in 1989, after the huge MTV
success of "Let's Dance" and "Blue Jean," the blame went on Gabrels and
the Sales brothers and few took to the maniacal sounds emanating from
those grooves.
And I wrote this back in October of 2025:
I can't help but think if Tin Machine was a band of four unknowns, their debut record would be considered a classic instead of a lemon. The record is flawed, no question. Lyrically, it can be cringemaking at times. But it also has moments of raw power and unmitigated audacity. Tin Machine's 1989 debut is manic and unruly for all the right reasons. It's loud and it's grimy. It's four guys throwing shit against a wall and hoping some of it sticks. And what sticks and what doesn't, depends on where you are standing.
I love this record and I think more people could feel like I do if they dropped the baggage. Even if you hate David Bowie, this resembles nothing in Bowie's catalogue. And if you love Soupy Sales, this doesn't sound like him either.
And so, for its 37th birthday, I suggest listening to Tin Machine, either for the first time or again. It's time.
