Notes From The Summer Tour
Finding Glitter And Doom With Tom Waits
NewWest.Net/Bend Editor recently followed Tom Waits on the first three nights of his summer tour. Lives were changed, bourbon was poured and Waits owned the evenings.By Joseph Friedrichs, 6-24-08
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| Photos by Dana Borger. | |
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My thoughts haven’t been clear these past few days. It’s not the exposure to an excess of sunlight, or the lingering flavors of barley and hops each morning that are clouding my brain cells. What are swimming through my thoughts are the following lyrics from the Tom Waits song “Lucinda”:
“I’ve spoken to God on the mountain
And I’ve swam in the Irish sea
I ate fire and drank from the Ganges
And I’ll beg there for mercy for me
I thought I’d broke loose of Lucinda
The rain returned and so did the wind
I was standing outside the Whitehorse
Oh but I was afraid to go in”
After following Tom Waits on the first three nights of his current “Glitter and Doom” tour, I have found it a staggering impossibility to shake those strange lyrics from my thought process. Truth is I really don’t want to. The melodies remind me of how powerful, wonderful and memorable it is seeing Tom Waits live. Without any question Tom Waits puts on the finest live performance I have ever seen from a musician.
The elusive Waits began his current tour last week in Phoenix with a mind-blowing, two-hour set that bounced all over his 20-album catalog. The show, held at the beautiful Orpheum Theater, was the first of 28 Waits plans to play in the United States and Europe. Waits also played the second night of the tour at the Orpheum and the third night at the Plaza Theater in El Paso, Texas.
Facts being facts, I should reveal that I’m lucky to have seen either of the two shows in Phoenix. I don’t mention this because tickets were very, very difficult to come by - both shows sold out in less than an hour and tickets were going for up to $1,500 on e-Bay - because they were. I only bring it up because the head of security at the Orpheum must have seen a bull’s eye on my chest. This guy, this security honcho, had crusty-white hair and teeth that seemed to bulge from their gums. He was skinny and of average height. He wore an outfit you might have seen an usher wearing at a movie theater during the 1980s. And he had complete power over me. He knew it. I knew it.
The first incident with this security guard came when I tried to sneak a girlfriend through the front entrance with my camera. He sensed our guilt from more than 100 yards away and I compliment his vision and security instincts for doing so. Upon being found out my girl and I played ignorant.
“Oh,” I said, “no cameras? Sorry about that my man.”
This did not work.
“Okay,” he said, “you knew the rules and you know the consequences. You’re both out of here.”
The trouble with this security guard had started several minutes before when I entered the Orpheum wearing a large blue hat with white stars and crescent moon it. I refer to this fine cap as my “wizard hat.” To be more specific, I call it “Wizard Whispa’s Hat.” Me, um, being Wizard Whispa. Anyhow, the security guard hated my hat, disliked my bourbon grin and had absolutely no time for me attempting to sneak in a red head without a ticket who also boasted a camera at her hip.
Fortunately for this Wizard, my girl was able to convince the security guard I had nothing to do with the scheme and I was escorted to my seat. My girl went back to the Friendship Inn.
Before the concert started I tried not to ponder much of what would occur. It certainly would be nothing like Neil Young or Ben Harper. The music would not be comparable to Radiohead or Okkervil River. Tom Waits would be different. I didn’t know why, or in what way, but I knew it would be unlike anything I’d experienced before.
And dear Lord it was.
Sparing the crowd the agony of anticipation by bringing an opening band on the road with him, Waits took the stage at about 8:20 on opening night. He was wearing a gray three-piece suit and a black bowler-style hat. He placed his wiry fingers above his eyebrows as he scanned the crowd. He said “good evening” in his famously raspy voice. And then he launched open with “Lucinda.”
“Well they call me William The Pleaser
I sold opium, fireworks and lead
Now I’m telling my troubles to strangers
When the shadows get long I’ll be dead”
Waits stomped his large black boots as the beat played. Puffs of white chalk steamed from the ground with each pounding of his boot. Waits wagged his fingers and flailed his arms through the song. I remember it smelled very good at that moment. Not sure what the fragrance was. It could have been the chalk, as it easily coasted to our seats in the sixth row.
The mad genius who is Waits stood on a small platform to open each night. The main stage itself was decorated with bullhorns and brass instruments. A large shadow projected from Waits loomed massive behind him on fuzzy curtains. The Glitter and Doom tour was underway.
Prior to departing Oregon to follow Waits on tour I must have watched the Glitter and Doom press conference 25 times. If you haven’t seen it, it’s a must to click here. It was at this press conference where Waits unveiled the guiding word of the tour: PEHDTSCKJMBA, pronounced pess-ca-jumba. The word represents the first letter of each city Waits will visit in the U.S. this summer.
And so it was after the fourth song of the night, a rousing rendition of “Chocolate Jesus,” that I took the liberty of yelling out “PEHDTSCKJMBA!” It came at one of those perfectly quiet moments during the set, an instant where a sneeze would have sounded like a gun shot. Although some people don’t believe in communicating with the artist on stage, I’ve never found that to be a way to live. Immediately after I shouted to Waits he looked up and said, “Yeah, and you put the P in PEHDTSCKJMBA.” That’s right, dear reader, this here Wizard puts the P in PEHDTSCKJMBA. Try not to forget it.
As the night rolled on Waits played many of the songs I had always wanted to see live, including the heartfelt ballad “Picture in a Frame,” “Christmas Card from a Hooker in Minneapolis,” “Come On Up To The House” and “You’re Innocent When You Dream.”
My favorite song from the three nights was “Eyeball Kid.” Waits performed the song each night in Phoenix and sported a disco-ball bowler hat just to enjoy the light effects. Toss in the classic Waits heel-to-toe dance and the “Eyeball Kid” was simply the top of the set list, with all due respect to an amazing rendition on night two of “16 Shells From A Thirty-Ought-Six.”
The second night of the tour was much like the first. Same wizard hat. Same grin upon arrival. Seconds after I entered the theater the head of security spotted me.
“Going for two nights, eh?” he said. The he started to chuckle a sheepish giggle and walked away shaking his head.
On night two I didn’t run into any trouble until about halfway through the set when several security guards found me dangling from a railing. As I attempted to explain to them, it’s not as dangerous as it sounds, seriously. And what a view I had! Anyhow, it took some more explaining and rationalizing before I was again escorted back to my seat.
Following the two hellish days of 116-degree heat in Phoenix, days where we never left the hotel room other than to round up entertainment supplies and witness Waits, my Cousin Jeff and I rolled on to El Paso. There the same magic was found with Waits. Highlights from the evening include an actual El Paso police officer emerging on stage followed soon thereafter by a local councilwoman to give Waits a key to the city.
“Apparently this fits every lock in El Paso,” Waits said of the gift. “If you find me in your living room in my underwear, we have an understanding.”
Tom Waits doesn’t play live very often, and when he does he apparently pours every fiber of his being into the shows. Having completed a three-night odyssey with the man I understand it was a life experience. A string of events to cherish and reflect on forever.
Now if only I could get that damn “Lucinda” song out of my head and get on with the rest of my life.
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Comments
I can't wait for a chance to use that.
Or this: "The cops are coming. Not for you... But it would be better if you weren't naked when they got here."
Missin' ya in AZ. You and cousin Jeff!
Back at you KC. I've got this sweet shirt I keep meaning to send to you.... Maybe next time we meet!
I'm sure it won't hold a candle to your shows- but Hotlanta is always a good time.