Автор | Отправлено | Сообщение |
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Johnny aka | 22.12.2004 15:25 | An eluder of all pursuers 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. |