TomWaitsAWeek | Tom Waits – Rain Dogs (1985, US)

Today’s spotlight is on number 315 on The List, and the second in our #TomWaitsAWeek feature. Fun fact: Rain Dogs album was the most repeated submission when we were first compiling The List, with something like 5+ people submitting it at the same time;1 CliftonR was the first to get in their vote, so they get the attribution. I’m going to apologize right off that bat to those 5+ people and anyone else who knows how great this album is – while Rain Dogs absolutely deserves its own dedicated and lengthy spotlight, it essentially shares this one with the 4 albums that preceded it and the 3 that came after. For that matter, each album mentioned here deserves its own spotlight. Alas, more Waits is better than less, so let’s not wait any longer and dig in…

Yesterday’s listening schedule2 for #TomWaitsAWeek included some huge shifts in Tom Waits’ sound and life. Foreign Affairs (1977) and Blue Valentine (1978) are perhaps not too far away from the preceding Small Change, albeit with amped up cinematic vibes, more strings, the first swapping of the piano for an electric guitar, and the first appearance (in “$29.00”) of what will become Waits’ signature drunk howl (thanks to satsuma for that phrase!). Foreign Affairs is also the first album that makes me picture the eyes closed/eyebrows raised/can’t lose face Waits often pulls while singing, though I’m sure it was there in the earlier albums (if not the recording, then definitely the live performances). Then, with Heartattack and Vine (1980), suddenly we are in electric guitar-based R&B territory, the sound seeming to move from a bar corner to a proper stage. But, perhaps most importantly, we catch a completely smitten Waits singing a seemingly non-Waits lyric – “sha-la-la-la-la-la”, in “Jersey Girl”. The girl? One Kathleen Brennan, who would impact Waits and his sound immensely, from one wonderful day forward.

Waits wrote Heartattack and Vine while taking a break from writing the soundtrack for Francis Ford Coppola’s One from the Heart (1981), on the set of which he re-met Brennan, who he had first met while filming Sylvester Stallone’s Paradise Alley (1978; Waits’ film debut). It apparently was love at second sight – the two were engaged within a week, and married the month before Heartattack was released.

Waits has apparently said of Brennan that he didn’t just marry a wife, but also a record collection. Brennan introduced Waits to a bunch of new music, perhaps the most influential to his own evolving sound being Captain Beefheart and composer Harry Partch (who made his own instruments). With the life changes and Brennan’s encouragement, Waits also changed managers and producers – to himself and Brennan – and used the opportunity to, essentially, reinvent himself. Thus we have the absolute masterpiece that is Swordfishtrombones (1983), the first of Waits’ experimental era – the first Waits’ album to not feature saxophone, the first to have marimba (and various eclectic instruments), and, really, the first to have music that finally seems to live in the same postal code as the vocals. It’s weird, it’s whacky, it’s what most now likely consider pure Waits. It should be in every record collection, and should have it’s own full blog (like, an entire blog, not just a blog post) dissecting every second of it. Also, it was released on my day of birth, which gives it extra bonus points from me.

Swordfishtrombones is the beginning of a loose trilogy of albums, the second of which is technically the subject of this spotlight (and our first album in today’s listening schedule): Rain Dogs. While continuing along the lines of Swordfishtrombones plus adding in the plethora of new influences and experiences that came with Waits’ and Brennan’s move to New York City (including Waits’ growing filmography), Rain Dogs also brings back in all the best things of the pre-Brennan albums (including some of that country rock twang from Closing Time, in “Blind Love”). It’s a ‘best of’ bag of Waits’ tricks, if you will, minus the whisky. The result is a couple of surprisingly rather radio-friendly tunes (well, alternative radio, at any rate) including “Hang Down Your Head” (the first tune co-written with Brennan), as well as some cinema-friendly tunes, with songs from the album bookending the soundtrack for Jim Jarmusch’s Down by Law (1986; which Waits also starred in). And, another super duper (not really) important thing that really stands out, to me at least: end-of-song FADE OUTS. Perhaps they were in previous Waits albums, but for some reason these are the first I recall, enough to point out, lol. Anyway, and again, it deserves more than the cursory glance here, so be sure to give it a few spins and gather your own thoughts about it. Whether it was the fadeouts, the film cred, or just people knowing what’s what, it’s not hard to see why this album made and continues to make a number of lists, including the “official” 1001 list.

Following Rain Dogs, we get Franks Wild Years (1987), the last in the trilogy and thus another album in a similar vein. This album continues the story of one Frank, first seen in Swordfishtrombones‘ track of the same name (well, with the grammatically correct apostrophe), via songs first written (some co-written by Brennan) for a play. The real standout for me on this album – and, as far as I can remember, my first introduction to Waits – is the spectacular “Way Down in the Hole”, which was used/covered for The Wire‘s theme song. My advice? Get the entire trilogy and listen to all of them in a row, a few times over, as their own separate #TomWaitsAWeek. And then, for bonus marks, check out all the cover versions done for The Wire, if you haven’t already. For myself, I haven’t yet devoted enough time to this Franks, so I’m planning on getting a lot more spins in soon.

The last two albums on our listening schedule today carry on the experimentation of the Sword/Rain/Franks trilogy, albeit with different vibes. On Bone Machine (1992), perhaps it’s because of the title but I can’t help but hear some Pixies vibes, also some Leonard Cohen vibes (“Black Wings”) – in other words, there’s a LOT of different stuff going on in this one. Again, it deserves it’s own spotlight, and more than a quick spin. And then, The Black Rider (1993) is another play-to-album collection of songs, the play in question co-written by none other than William S. Burroughs and directed by Robert Wilson (perhaps known by many as Philip Glass’ collaborator on Einstein on the Beach). Waits will very soon again collaborate with Wilson on what becomes two of the albums in tomorrow’s listening schedule, Alice and Blood Money (both 2002).

Alice is part of tomorrow’s listening schedule, and is the third Waits album we have in The List. Because I’m only human I won’t have its spotlight ready prior to listening, but we’ll meet back here on Friday to discuss it, and cap off our #TomWaitsAWeek.

Until then, I hope you don’t have to wait to listen to more Waits!

• Songlink: Tom Waits – Rain Dogs
• Discogs: Tom Waits – Rain Dogs

1Apologies for the wishy-washy data, but I only tracked the first time an album was submitted, so this is going off my shoddy memory of how many times I replied “already added!” to people. I do remember with certainty that SpaceAce was one of those people, btw.
2For those wanting to listen through the discography with us, here’s what is left in the schedule, of studio albums plus the Orphans box set (any live/soundtrack/etc. albums are extracurricular!): Wednesday – Rain Dogs, Franks Wild Years, Bone Machine, The Black Rider; Thursday – Mule Variations, Alice, Blood Money, Real Gone; Friday – Orphans: Brawlers, Bawlers & Bastards, Bad as Me