All The Hounds Will Start To Roar: Tom Waits Takes The Stage

Tom Waits: August 1, 2006: The Tabernacle, Atlanta

Honest to God, it happened like this: Projected from behind a sheer stage curtain, the silhouette of a guy with poor posture and a porkpie hat roused two thousand, five hundred seemingly rational people to erupt. Bringing forth a figure of myth to life, Tom Waits ambled out to a roaring reception from a body-to-body packed crowd inside Atlanta’s historic Tabernacle. Tipping his hat in thanks, Waits turned to crank up the band, repeatedly stomping a foot to get them started. A rough and rumbling groove got off the ground, sounding like a locomotive running low on diesel. All aboard and rolling, that inimitable Tom Waits voice, the best instrument in the band, howled, “Make It Rain,” from 2004’s Real Gone.

Being the first show of the 8-night (9-city) Orphans tour, no one in attendance knew for certain what songs the notoriously unpredictable Waits would perform. Many anticipated hearing songs from his upcoming box set, also titled Orphans, which comprises three discs of rare and previously unreleased tracks. Given the severe rarity of seeing Tom Waits in concert, many others hoped to hear classic (or at least familiar) songs.

After plowing through “Hoist That Rag,” another thunderous track from Real Gone, Waits began “Shore Leave,” from his 1983 tour de force, Swordfishtrombones, the first sign that this night would indeed contain some gems. Next up was “God’s Away On Business” and “November,” the former a relatively recent number, the latter somewhat older and obscure. Alternating between keyboards and vibraphone, Ben Thompson added effects and accompaniment essential to fleshing out the peculiar-sounding music of Tom Waits. Those wishing to hear classic material got their wishes granted with a double shot: a revised arrangement of “Til The Money Runs Out” and a gut-wrenching rendition of “Blue Valentines,” both mesmerizing the already rapt audience.

Shifting gears and sitting at a baby grand piano, Waits strikingly resembled the image of the garrulous lounge singer that launched his legend in the 1970s. Bassist Larry Taylor, switching from an electric to an upright to accompany Waits on piano, further underscored that image. “Lucky Day,” from The Black Rider, started off this portion of the show. Between songs, Waits offered up a few hilarious anecdotes, like how he discovered a dubious ingredient of a popular dog treat (pulled bull penis). “Why would you give that to your dog? You love your dog,” he said in bewilderment. To the din of laughter and applause, he tickled the ivories to “Tango Til They’re Sore,” from Rain Dogs. “House Where Nobody Lives,” an aching ballad from 1999’s acclaimed and adored Mule Variations, finished off the three-song segment.

After two stagehands carried his piano away, Waits stood back behind the microphone stand, twitching in spastic reaction to the clamoring of “Don’t Go Into That Barn”. A cover of bluesman Howlin’ Wolf’s “Who’s Been Talkin’” segued into his own “Whistlin’ Past the Graveyard,” which, in retrospect, seems strangely appropriate. Introducing “9th And Hennepin,” Waits spoke about returning to a decrepit town he’d long since left only to find it revitalized and selling frozen yogurt. The story yielded a hearty response from the Atlanta crowd given that the man last played their city almost thirty years ago. “Trampled Rose” then presaged “Get Behind The Mule,” both thumping along in bass-slapping rhythms. “Murder In The Red Barn,” from the 1992 Grammy Award winning masterwork, Bone Machine, reached cinematic heights with Waits looking every bit the ornery spook that he sounds like on the song. The main set concluded with a raucous rendering of “Shake It”.

“Singapore,” track one on Rain Dogs, jumpstarted the first of two encores. Guitarist Duke Robillard set up the subsequent song, mischievously grinning as his animated blues chords teased the audience. Next, with tympani mallets in hands, Casey Waits, son of Tom, assaulted the drums with a vengeance while the rest of the band ignited into “Goin’ Out West”. “I ain’t no extra, baby,” Waits wailed. “I’m a leading man!” How true. And so ended the first encore.

For the initial song of the final encore, Waits performed the most prescient (and arguably the most moving) song of the night, “Day After Tomorrow”. Written as a young soldier’s letter home from war, a verse of this 2004 vignette says:

I close my eyes every night
And dream that I can hold you
They fill us full of lies that everyone buys
About what it means to be a soldier
I still don’t know how I’m supposed to feel
About all the blood that’s been spilled
Look out on the street
Get me back home
On the day after tomorrow

Strumming his acoustic guitar while the band played softly, Waits sang with a lilt in his otherwise trembling voice. He seemed genuinely moved by the audience’s overwhelming response upon the song’s completion. Capping things off on a more upbeat note, Waits and band dug into the beatnik title track of his 1980 album, Heart Attack And Vine. Afterwards, holding his hat aloft to a deafening ovation, Waits stood at the foot of the stage, his expression a mix of exhaustion and accomplishment. For those in attendance, Tom Waits not only lived up to his iconic stature and myth. He enriched it.

Ryan Adams: Heartbreaker [concert review]

Ryan Adams & The Cardinals: July 30, 2006: The Tabernacle, Atlanta

"Finally!" someone shouted when Ryan Adams laid into the familiar harmonica strains of "Come Pick Me Up," the last song of the concert and of his two-night stand at the Tabernacle in Atlanta. Word had spread that the first night featured Adams delivering an extraordinary performance chocked full of crowd favorites. Unfortunately, for night two, Adams didn't satisfy the audience until the end of the concert. In a show comprised mostly of obscure songs from his latest three albums (Cold Roses, Jacksonville City Nights, and 29, all released last year), the notoriously prolific yet erratic songwriter played just a few memorable crowd pleasers.

While much of the setlist didn't overly enthuse everyone, some lesser-known songs went over rather well. Perched at an upright piano with a lit cigarette in his mouth, Adams played an ominous, emotional rendition of "Nightbirds," by far the most compelling song on 29 and arguably one of the best songs he has written to date. Also, a riveting take on "This House Is Not For Sale" and an acoustic cover of the Oasis hit, "Wonderwall," both from his 2004 EP, Love Is Hell (part I), snagged the crowd's attention.

Not until Adams began "La Cienega Just Smiled," however, towards the end of the show, did the crowd begin to respond with universal applause and enthusiasm. By the time he reached "Come Pick Me Up," sadly the only track performed from his landmark album, Heartbreaker, Ryan Adams ultimately locked in a positive response from the entire audience. At one point during the show, Adams had mentioned that he would not repeat any song from the previous night's concert. Perhaps he should have reconsidered.