Post by know ID yuh on Sept 13, 2011 21:23:19 GMT -8
Tom Waits - Mule Variations (Friendly D)
I always knew of Tom Waits, knew many people in college who liked him, but I never spent a lot of time listening to his music until I moved to Portland. A neighbor of mine was going through a terrible break-up, (a long term girlfriend was leaving him), and he subsequently spent many hours each day listening to Neil Young and Tom Waits. I knew enough about each that I knew their voices and popular songs, owned a couple pawn shop albums, but never spent an obsessive amount of time listening to either until I got drunk with this dude a couple nights a week. Mule Variations was his favorite, which is why it became my favorite.
One thing I've always loved about Tom Waits is how many different styles of singing he has, but how each only sounds like Tom Waits. There is the spoken word, the high pitched nearly shreiking, the low pitched baritone, and everything in between. All vocal aspects previously mentioned are coupled with or without energy, and without or without distortion. That is why most of his songs sound different on each album. The more you listen to him, you end up being able to name four or five songs that match each of the styles I poorly outlined above. Some of the songs you can try to sing out loud pain free, others you end up coughing about ten seconds in trying to emulate his voice. You just can't do it without smoking 15 cigars, and inhaling, and drinking several shots of whiskey to numb the pipes.
Often times, I don't know why certain songs hit me more than others, but here are a couple highlights of the album. "I'm Big In Japan" has been an ironic saying between myself and anyone who seems to know music. When you are a big guy, people mention it as a conversation starter. That is why my usual reply to anything dealing with my size is, "I'm big in Japan." It's been that way since I first heard Mule Variations.
The first reference to Tom Waits I can recall was my freshman year in college when a buddy referred to Tom Wait's music as, "music to drink alone to." Therefore, the line that stands out the most on "Cold Water" is, "I look 47, but I'm 24," referencing how worn out someone can appear. Isn't Tom Waits the definition of this? He looks worn down, he sounds worn down, but that is what makes his persona so unique.
On "Pony," "Burnt Faced Jake" is the one line that stands out. The more I listened to Waits, the more I recognized all of the characters in his songs who match this same circus freak type of descriptions. It's something unique to Tom Waits, and it keeps the imagination running. You don't hear Kings of Leon singing, "Your tatooed stomach is on fire." Douchebags like Kings of Leon can't paint pictures with their music. "Black Market Baby," and "Take It With Me," also paint a vivid picture.
"Hold On" is my favorite song on the album, mostly because of the flow. I'm a big flow guy, I guess that's what you get growing up listening to hip hop, jazz, and pop. The line I related to the most was, "You don't meet nice girls in coffee shops." I had just moved to a large city where I knew no one, so meeting women was obviously on my mind.
"Get Behind the Mule:" there's got to be a Drew/Montana joke here? Just making sure you're still with me.
"House Where Nobody Lives" always made me think of those stories you hear on the news about terrible things happening in neighborhoods, whether it be drugs or violence or worse. The type of house that residents tell their kids to stay away from, or the house where the gossip evolves into something creepy that is far from the actual truth. I still think of this song whenever I see broken down houses which look unoccupied. He mentions this house several times, which makes me wonder what crazy stories he has about those neighborhood houses he grew up near. Actually, you don't have to wonder too much, because he's dropping hints in every other song.
"What's He Building In There," I am convinced is a precursor to, "House Where Nobody Lives." He finishes with the powerful "Come On Up to the House," which makes me think he is singing about his creepy house all along, and he's just a misunderstood worn down soul? Or maybe he is the creepy fuck? Or maybe he's singing about the barn where he recorded this album that Friendly described, and how much of an outsider he was to the general neighborhood?
(Spoken in the voice of gossipy house wife who lives down the road from their studio): "What's he building in there?"
Just one of the greatest albums ever created.
I always knew of Tom Waits, knew many people in college who liked him, but I never spent a lot of time listening to his music until I moved to Portland. A neighbor of mine was going through a terrible break-up, (a long term girlfriend was leaving him), and he subsequently spent many hours each day listening to Neil Young and Tom Waits. I knew enough about each that I knew their voices and popular songs, owned a couple pawn shop albums, but never spent an obsessive amount of time listening to either until I got drunk with this dude a couple nights a week. Mule Variations was his favorite, which is why it became my favorite.
One thing I've always loved about Tom Waits is how many different styles of singing he has, but how each only sounds like Tom Waits. There is the spoken word, the high pitched nearly shreiking, the low pitched baritone, and everything in between. All vocal aspects previously mentioned are coupled with or without energy, and without or without distortion. That is why most of his songs sound different on each album. The more you listen to him, you end up being able to name four or five songs that match each of the styles I poorly outlined above. Some of the songs you can try to sing out loud pain free, others you end up coughing about ten seconds in trying to emulate his voice. You just can't do it without smoking 15 cigars, and inhaling, and drinking several shots of whiskey to numb the pipes.
Often times, I don't know why certain songs hit me more than others, but here are a couple highlights of the album. "I'm Big In Japan" has been an ironic saying between myself and anyone who seems to know music. When you are a big guy, people mention it as a conversation starter. That is why my usual reply to anything dealing with my size is, "I'm big in Japan." It's been that way since I first heard Mule Variations.
The first reference to Tom Waits I can recall was my freshman year in college when a buddy referred to Tom Wait's music as, "music to drink alone to." Therefore, the line that stands out the most on "Cold Water" is, "I look 47, but I'm 24," referencing how worn out someone can appear. Isn't Tom Waits the definition of this? He looks worn down, he sounds worn down, but that is what makes his persona so unique.
On "Pony," "Burnt Faced Jake" is the one line that stands out. The more I listened to Waits, the more I recognized all of the characters in his songs who match this same circus freak type of descriptions. It's something unique to Tom Waits, and it keeps the imagination running. You don't hear Kings of Leon singing, "Your tatooed stomach is on fire." Douchebags like Kings of Leon can't paint pictures with their music. "Black Market Baby," and "Take It With Me," also paint a vivid picture.
"Hold On" is my favorite song on the album, mostly because of the flow. I'm a big flow guy, I guess that's what you get growing up listening to hip hop, jazz, and pop. The line I related to the most was, "You don't meet nice girls in coffee shops." I had just moved to a large city where I knew no one, so meeting women was obviously on my mind.
"Get Behind the Mule:" there's got to be a Drew/Montana joke here? Just making sure you're still with me.
"House Where Nobody Lives" always made me think of those stories you hear on the news about terrible things happening in neighborhoods, whether it be drugs or violence or worse. The type of house that residents tell their kids to stay away from, or the house where the gossip evolves into something creepy that is far from the actual truth. I still think of this song whenever I see broken down houses which look unoccupied. He mentions this house several times, which makes me wonder what crazy stories he has about those neighborhood houses he grew up near. Actually, you don't have to wonder too much, because he's dropping hints in every other song.
"What's He Building In There," I am convinced is a precursor to, "House Where Nobody Lives." He finishes with the powerful "Come On Up to the House," which makes me think he is singing about his creepy house all along, and he's just a misunderstood worn down soul? Or maybe he is the creepy fuck? Or maybe he's singing about the barn where he recorded this album that Friendly described, and how much of an outsider he was to the general neighborhood?
(Spoken in the voice of gossipy house wife who lives down the road from their studio): "What's he building in there?"
Just one of the greatest albums ever created.