Posts Tagged ‘Tom Waits’

The Friday Mixtape: All Souls Edition, 10/30/09

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Welcome back.

Are you feeling comfortable? Good. Right about now, you’re sitting casually in your seat, perhaps in a chair staring at the monitor, perhaps bundled up on the couch, wrapped in your Snuggie, your laptop buzzing on your lap with the warmth of its underside providing a pleasant sensation there. Occasionally the hard drive skitters and skates, trying to access some connection inside of this digital field of play.

And it is a field of play, don’t let it fool you otherwise. Take a good long look at the screen, for instance. Sure, your conscious, active mind sees black letters spelling out the very words you’re reading, but let your eyes haze a moment. Don’t think about meaning so much — just see the black squiggles on the expanse of white, amassed like battalions, one paragraph against another, staring each other down, preparing for the moment to bolt in attack, random “s” characters raising their swords against the myriad numbers of “m,” not to mention the machinations of those vowels, so kind to link consonants into those words that spill into your head as you read them but, as we well know, they are Machiavellian, yes they are. Those “A” “I” and “E” shapes poised to kill their counterparts, running headlong with a blood-curdling scream of  “Aiiiieeeeee!!”

You could almost hear that scream as you read it, that “Aiiieeeee…” couldn’t you? It’s amazing the information the brain fills in with the absence of a direct descriptor to clarify it. Take, oh, I don’t know, that voice in your mind as you’re reading. It sounds like your voice, has all the cadence and nuance of your voice and, even, those words you mispronounce in your regular day-to-day speech are mispronounced by the narrator in your mind, the one you think is you — but it’s not you. These are my thoughts, my words, and in truth, at this very moment, it is me who is in your head right now, telling this tale, pulling these strings. Are you wondering perhaps, how long have I been in here?

You should.

Are you feeling comfortable now? Good. Let’s begin.

Metamorphosis by David Eagleman, read by Jeffrey Tambor (2009)

Harvest Moon, Blue Oyster Cult from Heaven Forbid (1998)

Harvest Festival, XTC from Apple Venus Volume 1 (1999)

The Ethics Of Jokes by Garrison Keillor from Horrors! A Prairie Home Companion(1996)

Earth Died Screaming, Tom Waits from Bone Machine (1992)

Prelude, Bernard Herrmann from The Day the Earth Stood Still (1951)

Humanity Part II, Ennio Morricone from The Thing: Original Motion Picture Soundtrack (1982)

Through The Mirror, John Carpenter and Alan Howarth from Prince of Darkness (1987)

Fat Albert, Bill Cosby from The Best of Bill Cosby (1969)

Cold Colours, Neil Gaiman from Warning: Contains Language (1995)

The Hearts Filthy Lesson, David Bowie from Outside (1995)

Vampira, The Devin Townsend Band from Synchestra (2006)

Dark Carnival, Resurrection Band from Lament (1995)

Limbo, Rush from Test for Echo (1996)

The Invisible Man, Marillion from Marbles (2004)

…and we saved the best, scariest and spookiest track for last. It’s buried in the cobwebs, inch-depth dust and dark thickness of a dank, humid night. Beware of clicking on it just in case you’re weak of heart or fearful of mind, for it has the power to instigate nothing less than utter madness.

Happy Halloween!

Test of the Boomerang: Spring Mix

Spring is here. Blue skies, green grass, allergens. Rainy afternoons and cool evenings.

Spring, of course, is time for renewal, and I like to think of it as a time for some mental housecleaning as well,  so I’ve selected some music that I feel is somewhat transitive and uplifting. A little more meditative than usual. Hopefully it will take you places.

Enjoy the tunes, and I’ll meet you back here next week.

Tom Waits – You Can Never Hold Back Spring
from Orphans: Brawlers, Bawlers, & Bastards (2006)
Hugo Largo – Grow Wild from Drum (1987)
Zilla – Wicker Pilots from Egg (2005)
Sanjay Mishra with Jerry Garcia – Nocturne Evening Chant from Blue Incantation (1995)
Carlos Santana and Alice Coltrane – Angel of Sunlight from Illuminations (1974)
Lotus – Behind Midwest Storefront from Hammerstrike (2008)
Widespread Panic – Pickin’ Up the Pieces from Everyday (1993)
Medeski Martin & Wood – Amber Gris from Radiolarians II (2009)
Grateful Dead – Dark Star from Ladies and Gentlemen the Grateful Dead: Fillmore East 1971 (2004)
Solar Quest – Singtree from Orgship (1994)
The Police – Darkness from Ghost in the Machine (1981)

Popdose Gets ‘Faced: The Ultimate Drinking Mixtape

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A couple months ago, Jeff mentioned to me that he was thinking of putting together the Ultimate Drinking Mixtape in time for St. Patrick’s Day. I got so excited that I persuaded him to immediately open the floor to suggestions from the Popdose writers. And the song requests flowed in.

As the resident souse of the Popdose staff, I felt it was my responsibility to filter through the ideas that emerged and weave them together into something slightly more coherent than the drunken rantings I’d occasionally find typed out on my computer during the extensive beta-testing process. Later, during gamma-testing, the songs started to find their ways into groups. Finally, when I reached the delta-testing phase, things had been organized into chapters that celebrate the many different aspects of that delightful elixir that can lift or lower our spirits, make us in turn beautiful or ugly, and loosen or tangle our tongues with equal abandon.

Here’s the full tape – 116 minutes of pure malt goodness, with some wonderful words of wisdom sprinkled in.  Just add liquor.

The Ultimate Drinking Mixtape

A playlist follows the jump, but I feel I must warn you – it goes down a lot smoother if you drink straight from the bottle.

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Popdose Flashback: “Lyle Lovett and His Large Band”

By 1989, Lyle Lovett had already been kicking around for a couple of years. He cut a unique figure from the start, a Texan Eraserhead with a knife-slash mouth, and there was a buzz about his songwriting chops based on tunes like “God Will” and “Pontiac” — perfectly-crafted little gems, both gorgeous and unflinching. But there was, in his earlier records, a sense that Lyle was still a work in progress. His persona shifted variously to the traditionalist and ironist camps. With Lyle Lovett and His Large Band, from its ruthlessly literal title on down, he gets definitive by getting ambiguous. It’s a neat trick.

“Here I Am” (download) stakes out Lovett’s unique territory. A stomping, shouting blues vamp is continually interrupted by a series of surreal, goofy asides. It’s pure vaudeville, of course — extending from a tradition that traces back to “The Arkansas Traveler” and the minstrel show — but rendered with such deadpan earnestness that it creates its own interzone of doubt and indeterminacy: Is he serious? Is he kidding? Maybe both, or neither.

That’s a delicate balancing act. The key is to never let the audience see you wink, and it’s the rare artist who can pull it off consistently. Randy Newman used to own this patch of real estate, back in the 70s — Tom Waits, too; but Newman’s satire has grown blunter with the years, and Waits’s songs have opened up emotionally. David Byrne can still manage it, on occasion, mining the common ground between yearning and absurdity with nerdy intensity.

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Basement Songs: Tom Waits, “Kentucky Avenue”

The first time I heard Tom Waits’ “Kentucky Avenue” was in my AP English class back in 1987. My teacher, a brilliant “Mr. Chips” type of character named Mr. Denman, transformed what could have been a yearlong excursion into literary hell into a brilliant combination of English, music, history, film and theater — it was more like AP Pop Culture than AP English. I had many great failures in that room (including a wild misinterpretation of Robert Frosts’s “The Mending Wall”), but those eight months in Denman’s class have a profound effect on the man that I am.

One morning, entering the classroom, I heard the acid-drenched voice of Tom Waits crackling from the small record player sitting on the floor. Adding to the moment were the hisses and pops of Denman’s abused copy of Waits’s album, Blue Valentine, which probably never met its sleeve after the day it came out of the cellophane. I know for fact that Denman treated his records like shit; on any given day, you were likely to find six LPs stacked on top of each other in a corner near the heater. As a music fan, I found it appalling, yet somewhat rebellious and cool, too. “Kentucky Avenue” floated through the air, yet the commotion of students entering and books being shuffled made it near impossible to understand what Waits was singing. Still, the melody was so haunting and beautiful, it stuck with me for the rest of the day. Years later, I heard the song again while hanging out with my friend Matt. Finally able to focus on the poignant lyrics, I quickly identified the song as a favorite.

Waits sings with such feeling and conviction, you can’t help but wonder if he’s singing about someone in his own youth. There is a deep pain seeping up from underneath his reflections of childhood, and an abrasive honesty to every word he sings. He purposely leads us to believe that the song is just a flashback of youth gone wild. Then, with a sudden impact, the lyrics reveal the true story: (more…)

The Popdose Guide to Tom Waits

guidelogo.gif[He doesn't write them anymore -- in fact, they aren't even online anymore -- but truth be known, it was my good friend Ben Wiser who inspired the original Idiot's Guide series, via his impassioned, messy, and always entertaining Field Guides. He always wrote about artists I'd never bothered to investigate too deeply, or that I'd written off outright, and even when I knew I didn't like whatever music he was writing about, he always had a way of making me want to go back and listen to it again.

Anyway, toward the end of '05, I got a request from Eric at Theme Park Experience for a Tom Waits Guide. I love Waits' early Asylum albums, but some of his stuff is beyond me, so although I've got all his records, that's something I'd never write.

Luckily, though, one of Ben's old Field Guides focused on Waits (and, actually, was my reason for going back and filling in the gaps in my own Waits collection). Through his kind permission, we re-christened it and republished it way back in '06 -- now here it is again. Enjoy!]


Closing Time (1973)
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Closing Time

Tom’s debut as the late night, honeythroated troubadour. He covers a lot of ground on this one. It’s amazing to think of this as a debut, I mean, it sounds like he’s been doing it for years. If a heart beats in your chest, “Martha” (download) and “I Hope That I Don’t Fall in Love With You” (download) will make you weep. The whole thing is a classic. Like a Capra film, it’s good for the holidays. (more…)