[MUSIC REVIEW] Nighthawks at the Diner (1975) by Tom Waits

There was a time when Tom Waits rented a room at The Tropicana Motel in LA for nine dollars a night and was booed off stage when he opened for Frank Zappa. A time when he held on to his drunken bohemian personality; a slum poet and barfly. A time when he was signed to Asylum Records. A time when he was hanging out with Rickie Lee Jones and Chuck E Weiss and was about as far out on the fringe of society as was possible without ending up on the wrong side of the law.

There is a story about when Weiss and Waits were arrested after a usual night of drinking because of suspected homosexual soliciting (remember, this was in the early 70s). When they were released, Waits chose to report the policemen, not for excessive force or anything like that, but because the policemen had been using too many "Dragnet" clichés.

It's also during this time that Waits somewhat underrated "live" masterpiece "Nighthawks at the Diner" came about. Worth mentioning is that it's the first album where you notice a first hint of Waits's patented whisky voice. At a mere 26 years of age Waits sounds like a hoarse 80-year-old.

The album is filled to the brim with gallows humor. The ability to make witty humor out of a really sad situation. The lyrics are like a mix between beat poetry and noir detective novels; Bukowski meets James Ellroy.

Well, the dawn cracked hard just like a bullwhip
Cause it wasn't taking no lip from the night before
And it shook out the streets, as the stew bums showed up
Like bounced checks, rubbing their necks
And the sky turned the color of Pepto-Bismol
Yeah, and the parking lots growled
My old sport coat full of promissory notes
And a receipt from a late night motel
The hawk had his whole family out there in the wind
And he got a message for you to beware
Kicking your ass in, in a cold-blooded fashion
And dishing out more than a good man can bear

It's not enough to say that it is an atmospheric album. It's really a journey. A journey to the heart of Tom Waits, pulsating with people in slovenly attire and ragged shoes and chins covered in three day stubble, all of which have a story to tell.

The Record Plant studio in Sausalito, California has been transformed into a fictional nightclub called Raphael's Silver Cloud Lounge. Waits lays out his dirty, dark and witty stories in front of an invited crowd of acquaintances, accompanied by a small jazz band consisting of double bass, tenor saxophone, drums and piano.

A perfect companion on a merciless winter night with a glass of whisky in my hand. Cheers, and merry Christmas by the way!

 @SteemSwede

Tom Waits - Spare Parts I (A Nocturnal Emission)

Tom Waits - Better Off Without A Wife