Where have I been all my life?
A few weeks ago I was waiting in line at the Emporium, the local coffee/liquor store, when I heard the sexy thrum of a familiar bass coming thru the speakers overhead. When my turn came to pay, I said to the girl behind the counter, "That sounds like Les Claypool." She smiled, the first time I've ever seen her do so, and said, "That's funny because this is actually Tom Waits so you're in the right ballpark." I liked.
A few weeks later Scott was flipping thru channels while I read & he came across the end of the Daily Show which just happened to be featuring a musical act that night. A gruff-looking gentleman sat on a stool with his guitar & was accompanied by another younger fellow on another guitar, also perched on a stool. The gruff fellow crooned a sad, beautiful lament in a gravelly voice. Scott & I were absolutely mesmerized - neither of us spoke until it was over. When it had ended & the show went into the closing credits, we looked at each other in alarm. "How are we ever going to find out who that was????" We asked each other simultaneously. Then we remembered this IS the electronic age & that info could probably be found online. But we had to wait until after I got to work the next day.
The next day Scott called me to tell me that he had caught the show yet again at his parents while on lunch and that it was Tom Waits. I nearly had a fit.
Now. I was born in 1974. Tom Waits released his first album somewhere right around there. How in the hell have I managed to avoid hearing him for the past 32 years? And now I hear him twice in two weeks, two totally different styles of music, both of which I like immensely.
I needed instant gratification. I went to the generic record store & rootled thru the albums but there were only two to choose from. Rain Dogs & Real Gone. Both had had positive reviews on Amazon as did all the rest of his albums. Hard choice. I grabbed Real Gone & bolted.
I plugged it into the CD player in the Goat immediately. The first notes limped out of the speakers and formed into a strange melange of notes & twangs. A rough voice started into a catchy tune. "Come and get me on the ride up ah uh hm". The next song had a sort of bellydancing beat & a different version of the same voice howled and barked its way through it. The third was a long number - the voice became beautiful, mellow & hypnotic once again despite the sandpaper. The fourth song made me want to strip my clothes off & writhe around on the floor naked. It was also the same song that I had heard at the Emporium & there was no mistaking Les Claypool this time. I was absolutely hooked. And have been for about 2 weeks now - I haven't taken my burnt copy out of the Goat's player the whole time. I hear it in my head, all these different songs sung by the same guy, all these different feelings & atmospheres & instruments. It's almost too much for me to stand.
I haven't bought another album yet - it IS Christmas after all & I'm not supposed to be buying for us even tho' I splurged while out with Mom the other day & bought the new Jimmy Buffett studio CD, Take the Weather with You (which isn't too bad at all, I might add), only because Target must not have a large demand for Tom Waits & had none in stock, and I had ordered the live Jimmy Buffett Wrigley Field off Margaritaville the day before (which I haven't received yet but am sincerely hoping it's waiting for me when I get home tonight). I'm trying to behave.
But I see Waits has this Orphan compilation. And I've decided I must have it. And I must work my way back thru his discography.
The funny thing about it is this: I thought I hadn't encountered him before - certainly I'd remember it, but at a younger age I might not have appreciated him as much. While looking thru the albums I came across one from '77, Heart of Saturday Night, with a song on it called "Big Joe and the Phantom 309". I thought back to when I was a kid & remembered Mom's 2nd husband's sister, Gloria, playing a chilling song about a semi truck driver who wrecked his rig to save a busload of kids & even at that young age, I got goosebumps. I demanded to hear it over again but those two times were the only time I heard it & I still remember the ghostly tune and the gooseflesh rising on my arm.
Twenty some years later I find out it's none other than Tom Waits.
Thank you, Les Claypool, for being weird.
On second thought, I'm heading over to the much cooler albeit more expensive record store here in town right after work to see what they have to offer Waits-wise.....
"Hoist that rag!"
A few weeks later Scott was flipping thru channels while I read & he came across the end of the Daily Show which just happened to be featuring a musical act that night. A gruff-looking gentleman sat on a stool with his guitar & was accompanied by another younger fellow on another guitar, also perched on a stool. The gruff fellow crooned a sad, beautiful lament in a gravelly voice. Scott & I were absolutely mesmerized - neither of us spoke until it was over. When it had ended & the show went into the closing credits, we looked at each other in alarm. "How are we ever going to find out who that was????" We asked each other simultaneously. Then we remembered this IS the electronic age & that info could probably be found online. But we had to wait until after I got to work the next day.
The next day Scott called me to tell me that he had caught the show yet again at his parents while on lunch and that it was Tom Waits. I nearly had a fit.
Now. I was born in 1974. Tom Waits released his first album somewhere right around there. How in the hell have I managed to avoid hearing him for the past 32 years? And now I hear him twice in two weeks, two totally different styles of music, both of which I like immensely.
I needed instant gratification. I went to the generic record store & rootled thru the albums but there were only two to choose from. Rain Dogs & Real Gone. Both had had positive reviews on Amazon as did all the rest of his albums. Hard choice. I grabbed Real Gone & bolted.
I plugged it into the CD player in the Goat immediately. The first notes limped out of the speakers and formed into a strange melange of notes & twangs. A rough voice started into a catchy tune. "Come and get me on the ride up ah uh hm". The next song had a sort of bellydancing beat & a different version of the same voice howled and barked its way through it. The third was a long number - the voice became beautiful, mellow & hypnotic once again despite the sandpaper. The fourth song made me want to strip my clothes off & writhe around on the floor naked. It was also the same song that I had heard at the Emporium & there was no mistaking Les Claypool this time. I was absolutely hooked. And have been for about 2 weeks now - I haven't taken my burnt copy out of the Goat's player the whole time. I hear it in my head, all these different songs sung by the same guy, all these different feelings & atmospheres & instruments. It's almost too much for me to stand.
I haven't bought another album yet - it IS Christmas after all & I'm not supposed to be buying for us even tho' I splurged while out with Mom the other day & bought the new Jimmy Buffett studio CD, Take the Weather with You (which isn't too bad at all, I might add), only because Target must not have a large demand for Tom Waits & had none in stock, and I had ordered the live Jimmy Buffett Wrigley Field off Margaritaville the day before (which I haven't received yet but am sincerely hoping it's waiting for me when I get home tonight). I'm trying to behave.
But I see Waits has this Orphan compilation. And I've decided I must have it. And I must work my way back thru his discography.
The funny thing about it is this: I thought I hadn't encountered him before - certainly I'd remember it, but at a younger age I might not have appreciated him as much. While looking thru the albums I came across one from '77, Heart of Saturday Night, with a song on it called "Big Joe and the Phantom 309". I thought back to when I was a kid & remembered Mom's 2nd husband's sister, Gloria, playing a chilling song about a semi truck driver who wrecked his rig to save a busload of kids & even at that young age, I got goosebumps. I demanded to hear it over again but those two times were the only time I heard it & I still remember the ghostly tune and the gooseflesh rising on my arm.
Twenty some years later I find out it's none other than Tom Waits.
Thank you, Les Claypool, for being weird.
On second thought, I'm heading over to the much cooler albeit more expensive record store here in town right after work to see what they have to offer Waits-wise.....
"Hoist that rag!"
posted by RCSure | 9:12 AM
2 Comments:
Just when I start to think we may be the same person, you have to go and discover you like Tom. You see, I think he is an EXCELLENT song writer, and I actually enjoy him doing "Long Way Home" but I can't stand his voice. Of course, I don't like Dylan either. Mumblers.
Now Les is a different story.
Les is a babe. Not in the traditional sense, but I dig him a LOT. I've only heard the one Waits CD - the "cooler" record store was alllllll out! I was heartbroken. Means I'll have to go to the genero place tonight & scrounge around. I dunno - the voices don't bother me at all. In fact, I like Tom's voice on all the stuff. But then, I like Dylan, too! You just can't argue with style like that.
I'm glad to know that you approve of Mr. Claypool tho'. Not many women can appreciate him... like I told Scott, just THINK of what those fast-moving fingers could do. Hee! He didn't seem impressed. Men.
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