A few of you know I am a huge, die-hard fan of Tom Waits. I’m aware that his voice and style are very much an acquired taste for a lot of people, and that some folks never really get there, but I loved his music from the first time I heard it. His voice is so…original, evocative, genuine. Anyhow.
When he released his last album, “Mule Variations,” I was convinced his career as an artist was over. It was an enjoyable, listenable, catchy album, but it had no focus, and it felt like a one-album-review of his entire career. It had the quirky characters, the bluesy/jazzy song, the wildly off-kilter carnival song, the junkyard-toy clanks and bangs song, the sensitive bar ballad, etc. It felt like he made an album of prototypical TYPES of Tom Waits songs, but not a unique album. I knew I’d continue buying his albums, but I assumed that after 30 long years of recording, his muse had finally expired of cirrhosis or lung cancer.
Last week, Tom Waits released two albums at the same time, “Alice,” and “Blood Money.” Both are musical scores for stage plays in which Waits had been involved.
“Alice” is about Lewis Carroll’s legendary preoccupation (some would say unhealthy sexual obsession) with Alice Lidell, the real-life inspiration for “Alice in Wonderland.” The entire album is focused and sad, extremely gentle at times, but with a sort of mad undercurrent that you would expect of a Victorian gentleman capable of dreaming up Wonderland. Tom Waits is an absolute genius at creating moods and writing lyrics. The first track sums up Carroll’s obsession by telling the story of a man who skates the name “Alice” into a frozen pond and retraces its lines until he falls through the ice. There’s a sad horror story of a song called “Poor Edward,” about a man that has a woman’s face on the back of his head, and she whispers to him “of things heard only in Hell.” She eventually badgers him into suicide, and Waits croaks out the final horror at last: “Some say he finally escaped her, but I knew her too well. She forced him into suicide so she could drag him to Hell.”
“Blood Money” is the score to an unfinished 1836 play called “Woyzeck” about a soldier who is the subject of medical experiments, is rejected by everyone he knows (including the prostitute he inadvisedly falls in love with,) and ends up murdering the girl and drowning himself. The play is not cheerful, obviously, and neither is the album. It’s wildly unkempt, woozily off-center. It’s ragged and feels like it’s right on the edge of madness, but Waits makes it amusingly misanthropic, if that’s possible.
Anyway, Tom Waits has reaffirmed my faith in him. Those who hate his music will undoubtedly hate this too, but fans (or folks who might be interested) should be satisfied. These are hardly the first albums he’s done that had theatrical connections (“Frank’s Wild Years” and “The Black Rider” are two more,) these were recorded and released at the same time, and they seem to mark yet another complete artistic change for Tom Waits.
Oh yeah, and I really like 'em.
What do you guys think?