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I always figured my first Tom Waits show would be a long-distance pilgrimage. I'd hear that he was doing a one-off in New Orleans or playing a benefit in Nashville, and I'd load up the car with his CDs, enlist a friend with a talent for creating life-threatening situations of Waitsian proportions, and embark on a road trip that would later be whispered of in legend.
As it turns out, Waits scheduled a show just a hop, skip, and a jump away, in Asheville, North Carolina. It's a town I visit often enough to have a routine worked out when I go to shows: I pay the shady guy who may or may not actually work in the impromptu parking lot near the venue, hit the Bier Garden for some Guinness and grub, and then stroll over to the Thomas Wolfe Center with time and energy to spare.
When I arrived, green wristbands with yellow happy faces were everywhere, a product of Waits' extensive anti-scalping procedures, yes, but also a badge that whispered, "I'm gonna see me a show!" Asheville was obviously primed for Waits -- I overheard conversations ranging from "This is my first time seeing him," to "I've traveled x miles to see him for the fourth time." And who could blame us? He had never performed in Asheville -- heck, you'd have to resort to decades as your unit of measurement to count the last time he even approached the general area.
The expectant atmosphere carried over to the auditorium, where a simple but intriguing stage setup awaited us. In the middle stood a blossom of large phonograph and speaker cones, looking for all the world like they might transform into a Terry Gilliam animation at any second. Flanking it were your garden-variety instruments alongside a scattering of unusual percussive objects. Many fans pressed up against the stage before heading to their seats, intent on checking out as much of the menagerie as they possibly could.
Waits and company would make good use of everything they brought. Alongside the singer, stand-up bassist Larry Taylor, guitarist Duke Robillard, kitchen-sink-multi-instrumentalist Bent Clausen, and drummer Casey Waits (Tom's son) worked their way through a grab-bag of Waits material. The Orphans Tour, as it was called, is presumably linked to a three-disc compilation of Waits rarities due for release later this year, but none of those orphans were to be found tonight. Instead, Waits' song selection favored relative obscurities over many of the expected classics, as if to say, "There are plenty of gems hidden in the shadows of 'Downtown Train', 'Jockey Full of Bourbon', and 'Swordfishtrombone'."
The set opened with curveballs "Singapore", "Hoist That Rag", and "Shore Leave", songs full of herky-jerky rhythms and atmospheric overload. "Make It Rain", though, introduced the tone that would stay for the rest of the night, with Waits growling gut-busting lyrics while the band transformed into a sinewy blues creature behind him.
Waits himself was a wonder to behold, barking, crooning, and marionetting himself around the mic like one of his strings had been cut. He grabbed the mic stand, pressing its base into the floor like it would help him tap into an even more primal beat. Attired in his trademark porkpie hat, dark jeans, and jacket, he mugged for the fans, reaching out his hands like claws and adopting the old-man mannerism of clutching his jacket to his chest when he spoke. He often punctuated stanzas and choruses with hard, sharp whistles, the kind you'd use to get an extra gear out of a pack animal; needless to say, the band -- and the crowd -- responded well.
For a band just two nights into a tour, things were surprisingly tight. Casey Waits handled his drums with stern concentration, keeping up just fine with longtime, elastic Waits collaborators like Clausen and Taylor. The overriding blues vibe probably helped someone like Robillard, who, reportedly, had to learn over 40 songs from scratch. And as the evening went on and the set's bluesy vibe stuck, Robillard seemed much more in his element. The band's only notable mistake came during "Whistlin' Past the Graveyard", when, at a point when the whole band was meant to come to a sudden stop, Taylor let slip a single errant bass note. The next time that spot came around in the song, Waits wheeled to give Taylor a sly grin.
Naturally, the singer's trademark wit was on display at other times as well. There were funny monologues about square watermelons, an extended bit where he wished he could box the crowd up individually in road boxes to take to the next show (during which he explicitly compared Asheville's hootin', hollerin' crowd to the previous night's audience), and a lament that it was getting harder and harder to find bad coffee.
The night's highlights came from all corners. The obscure "November", from the Weimar-esque The Black Rider, got a gentle reading (and appropriate intro about the set needing a song about cooler seasons as summer raged on outside) that brought the house down. "Goin' Out West" rediscovered its six-pack and swagger, with the crowd shouting along to the lines, "I've got hair on my chest / I look good without a shirt!" For the night's finale, "Don't Go into That Barn", the crowd fell into a "Yes suh!/ No suh!" call-and-response to Waits' interrogation of his fellow fugitives. One question: how does such organized crowd participation exist for a man who so rarely tours? Simply amazing. I'm apparently missing some boots worth studying.
By the time the show was over, Waits had paraded before our eyes god, the devil, love, murder, blue valentines, storms, food, exotic ports, and everything else under the sun. I remarked to my friend that, of all the songs on the night's setlist, only a third would have made my personal best-of. But I can't say that anymore. Some new favorites were born that night, and a few other tracks are set for long-overdue reexamination. Over two hours, Waits gave us a survey of his catalog, one that showed the phases of his career as a natural progression. So even though I didn't get the dusty, diner-laden road trip of my fantasies, it didn't matter. Two hours of Tom Waits is a road trip all its own.
— 18 August 2006
