No. 416: Mule Variations

Band: Tom Waits
Album: Mule Variations
Why Rolling Stone gets it right: Possibly his best work, "Mule Variations" is classic Waits: Grimey, clever and bizarre. Coming off a five-year hiatus, Waits played off his folk/blues roots by using mostly odd householf items for percussion.
Why Rolling Stone gets it wrong: As with all things Waits, it's not an easy listen.
Best song: The opener, "Big in Japan," is brilliant. "Get Behind the Mule" is amazing.
Worst song: I know people like "Filipino Box Spring Hog," but it just doesn't resonate for me, for some reason.
Is it awesome?: Yes, actually.

"Mule Variations" was released after a five-year layoff from Tom Waits and the first for him on the independent Anti Records. Waits is looked at by many independent artists as the ultimate in independents, as he clearly does whatever the hell he wants.

"Mule Variations" is Waits at the crossroads of his independence and his best artistry. His songwriting (assisted by his wife Kathleen Brennan) is in top form and his growl is similarly near its apex. The album, again, is full of strange, old instruments and carnival melodies.

The album starts out with "Big in Japan," a raucous song with the Primus backing Waits up. "Hold On" has Waits at a more tender moment. "Get Behind the Mule" is a more folky situation, one where Waits' softer vocal work can thrive.

As explained by AllMusic.com, "Get Behind the Mule" is partially a nod towards Robert Johnson.

Tom Waits explained in his press material for his 1999 album Mule Variations that "Get Behind the Mule" is a reference to something that bluesman Robert Johnson's father once said about his son: "He said, 'Trouble with Robert is he wouldn't get behind the mule in the morning and plow,' because that was the life that was there for him. To be a sharecropper," said Waits. "But he ran off to Maxxwell Street and all over Texas. He wasn't going to stick around. Get behind the mule can be whatever you want it to mean. We all have to get up in the morning and go to work."

Overall, it's a fantastic song on a great album.

No. 397: Rain Dogs

Band: Tom Waits
Album: Rain Dogs
Why Rolling Stone gets it right: Thankfully, the strange music contingent has a place on the RS list, as evidenced by "Trout Mask Replica," Zappa's records on the list and, of course, this one. From the word go, "Rain Dogs" is qurirky and hypnotic.
Why Rolling Stone gets it wrong: It's not an easy album to, say, hum along to.
Best song: "Gun Street Girl" has the feel of an old blues song while "9th & Hennepin" is the type of thing the Velvets might (might) have recorded.
Worst song: "Union Square" is too much.
Is it awesome?: Yes.

Tom Waits, uh, is strange.

"Diamonds & Gold" has the familiar tubular drum percussive sounds. The album's title track starts with what appears to be an organ solo. The short instrumental "Midtown" has a screaming trumpet. Waits himself produced the album with the notion that all the music would be organic, as the '80s had robbed popular music of organic drums. Because of this, there are a lot of folk-sounding instruments -- picked steel-sounding guitars, clanking drums, etc. -- and the record sounds incredibly natural. Waits fancies himself a blues/folk singer and, on "Rain Dogs," he was. He surrounds himself with the tools of the trade and, musically, it comes through.

And then, his voice. Waits' voice could be best described as "gravelly," though you'd have to imagine the gravel is jagged and dangerous. "Big Black Mariah" has Waits, essentially, screaming, while "Downtown Train" has Waits crooning as though he's Rod Stewart (who would later make the song a hit). Waits speaks the lyrics of "9th & Hennepin" as he describes the dangerous neighborhood and a prostitute within.

There's a niche for Tom Waits, certainly. Like a lot of quirky music, it has its place, though I'd suggest he's not on the same plane as Beefheart or Zappa. Still, "Rain Dogs" is a classic.

No. 339: The Heart Of Saturday Night

Band: Tom Waits
Album: The Heart Of Saturday Night
Why Rolling Stone gets it right: Dispensing with the love songs, Waits' second record was a start of the character sketches and odd personas that would be the trademark of his later work.
Why Rolling Stone gets it wrong: Waits' voice is much clearer than his signature growl and it's not what I know as Tom Waits.
Best song: "Fumblin' With the Blues" is great, as is "Drunk on the Moon."
Worst song: I don't love "New Coat of Paint."
Is it awesome?: It's interesting, if nothing.

Tom Waits is a great songwriter, but my knowledge of him is the incredibly strange older fellow of the past ten years. Singing like he's gargling hot asphalt, Waits' recent albums all tumble towards incredibly strangeness, taking as much from Vaudeville and old-time jazz as they do from rock music.

His second album, however, is just a good record. It's not exciting, it's not weird, it doesn't really push any envelopes. Lyrically, it's really just Semisonic's "Closing Time" before "Closing Time" existed. Musically, it's a lounge singer playing the blues. An interesting concept, yes, but not the best thing I've ever heard.

There's a real tenderness in some of the songs. The sorta title track, "(Looking for) The Heart of Saturday Night" has string-tinged sadness as Waits' voice works over the folky guitar. The piano balladry of "The Ghosts of Saturday Night (After Hours at Napoleone's Pizza House)" is overlaid with Waits basically speaking the song; singing just seems overwhelming at that point in the album. His florid descriptions in the song are probably a little much, but sound incredibly interesting as a beatnik-style spoken word track. "Fumblin' With the Blues" is a rapture in blues while Waits' voice starts to crack a little. "Depot, Depot" has a little showtunes in it, as does the awesome "Drunk on the Moon."

It's not Tom Waits as I know him, but it's still not a bad album and certainly interesting.