I've been a fan of Waits' music for a few years now, but this past weekend gave me my first opportunity to see him in concert. The story here isn't the quick scrounge up of ticket money or the scrimping and saving for a 600+ mile round trip with record gas prices. It isn't even about killing time before the show in a Vietnamese pool hall where the four ball simply refused to submit. It isn't about stumbling into town during the Atlanta Pride Festival. It isn't about the nice couple who sat to my right, I think their names might have been Steven and Joseph, who joked about doing Pilates workouts to prepare for the show. It also isn't about the couple to my left, the girl with the problem modulating the volume of her voice and her boyfriend the jackass – by jackass I mean that he brayed like a donkey at any hint of humor, no matter how inconsequential…the story is about none of this.
This story is about the three hour show that was put on by a man who is the most insane, and wonderfully so, performer on the face of the planet. Imagine, if you can, the bastard child of The Mask and Mr. Bean, running rampant through a junkyard, set to music.
From the opening choke stomp train whistle of Lucinda, through the mid set pump organ solo and finally to the moment the house lights went up at the end of the encore set, the world belonged to Tom Waits. In live performance, he isn't just a musician. He is a vaudeville artist and a raconteur of the highest caliber, freely switching gears and creating new arrangements as he directs the band from center stage. The chorus of one song involves light and mirrors and the bouncing of an eyeball, while a story about an old neighborhood conjures down a flickering light bulb from the rafters.
Waits' voice wasn't just strong, it was bionic. I'm half certain he could have brought the whole place down around us, Samson style, if he'd so desired, and that was before adding the bullhorn. If people think he's ruined his voice by performing over the years – he hasn't. On hearing him live I was amazed at not only the ranges he could hit when he wanted to, but the control he had while doing so. There is a reason why he is not easily imitated.
I got to experience favorites like Hoist that Rag, Make it Rain, Singapore and Eyeball kid delivered in ways I'd never heard before, but one of the biggest highlights for me (a big Howlin' Wolf fan) was Waits' cover of Who's Been Talking. It is strange how a set list assembled from over a quarter century worth of releases can sound cohesive and singular when delivered by a master.
Tom Waits' music is very polarizing. You either get it, and him, and enjoy it…or you don't. Judging by the packed Fox theater, the number of people who get it is significant and cuts across age, gender, and socio-economic barriers. I've never seen a more diverse group come together for a show before in my life.
There is one simple reason. A Tom Waits show is like the third floor at Bellevue – you never know what you're going to get. Even if you've loved a song for twenty years and have listened to it thousands of times, it is still going to become something brand new with a life and pulse of its own. It is like going to a set packed full of your favorite songs that you are hearing for the first time.
Possibly it was the distance from the stage, coupled with the left over fog/smoke effect from certain numbers, but there were moments where Waits' form appeared to shift and change, almost as if a human existence struggled to contain the voodoo he was working over the room. I could almost swear that during one song he resembled a skull with piranha teeth. (Then again, this could be the sleep deprivation talking…)
What follows is an incomplete and utterly disorganized set list. There were three songs that I simply did not recognize, and I am fairly certain that I am leaving out some others just because they are slipping my mind at the moment.
Lucinda, Ain't Going Down into the well, Lie to Me, Chocolate Jesus, Way down in the Hole, Jesus Gonna Be There, Black Market Baby, Who's Been Talking, All the World is Green, Cemetery Polka, She's Such a Scream, Get Behind the Mule, Singapore, Innocent When You Dream, Hoist that Rag, Make It Rain, 9th and Hennepin, Hold On, Dirt in the Ground, The Eyeball Kid, and Anywhere I lay my Head.
Vagrancy - Be careful who you wake up in a twenty four hour parking lot.
His name was Not Johnny - A young man becomes a sort of superhero after a crippling injury. He