An eluder of all pursuers, <Johnny aka>, 22.12.2004 15:25
| Тема | | An eluder of all pursuers |
| Отправитель | Johnny aka |
| Отправлено | 22.12.2004 15:25 |
Source:
http://www.straight.com/content.cfm?id=5415
One afternoon in 1979, I walked into the El Mocambo,
a club on Spadina Avenue in Toronto, leaned against
the bar, ordered a drink, and looked at the big-
screen TV just as the program's host was saying, "And
here he is now." And there was a lanky white guy in a
mismatched suit backed by four black guys. They began
vamping a jazzy number. The quartet looked straight
out of 1959, all with banlon shirts under sharkskin
sports coats and lacquered, stingy-brim hats. They
looked like they should have been backing Jack
McDuff. The white guy started to sing. He was great.
"Who is that?" I asked the bartender, who looked at
me like I was straight off the trapline on my first
venture to the Big Smoke. "That's Tom Waits, man!"
Tom Waits. I had thought he was some dork trying to
grab a piece of Leon Redbone's market by doing a
Louis Armstrong imitation.
The first listen to a new Tom Waits album is an
unsettling experience. It's like walking blindfolded
into a building where you've never been before. You
don't know if it'll resemble a gingerbread mansion or
a Motel 6. It's always midnight, and when you step
over the threshold the music is going to start. And
what the hell is it going to be this time?
This is just a small piece of the article. You can
find the complete text on this site:
http://www.straight.com/content.cfm?id=5415
J.S.
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