Passions: Passions: I’m on a downtown train for the genius Tom Waits

‘The gig I missed’ – Tom Waits at the Edinburgh Playhouse in 2008. Picture: Stuart Cobley

My only regret is not seeing him in Edinburgh in 2008, writes Allan Crow

One From The Heart, Francis Ford Coppola’s 1982 American musical drama was a critical and commercial stinker, but I loved it. More importantly, it introduced me to the remarkable music of Tom Waits.

His howling, gravel-throated vocals were the polar opposite of Crystal Gale’s sweetness, but the combination worked, and so began a deep dive into his early works, and entry into a world of late night bars filled with incredible bourbon-soaked characters from the wrong side of town.

Waits looked the part, and his gruff, deep voice was simply captivating as he brought Skid Row to life and painted a backdrop firmly set in the wee sma’ hours.He could howl at the moon, but still make it the song as tender as any mainstream ballad. His rendition of ‘Somewhere’ from West Side Story is magnificent, and possibly unrecognisable until you tune in to his unique singing style. Most of those early albums were first heard thanks to swaps I made while covering council meetings in Ayrshire after discovering a councillor was a huge Waits fan.

Waits long ago switched from those dive-bar blues to jazz and experimental sounds which saw him forge a unique career path; one which generated no chart success or major commercial breakthrough, but still influential enough to be listed at number 55 in Rolling Stone’s 100 greatest songwriters.

Rod Stewart covered Downbound Train, and Bruce Springsteen took over Jersey Girl. If only one of them had picked up Christmas Card From A Hooker - a ‘Christmas’ song you’ll never hear on any commercial radio station - in which Waits plays the part of the woman spinning a yarn to her ex-lover, and curates a song/monologue that could easily be a play or a film.

A magnificent wordsmith, he conjures the most evocative characters and scenarios - he took a one minute 55-second spoken word called Frank’s Wild Years wioth the most glorious/shocking pay-off line, turned it into an entire album and then saw it performed as a play.

One of my great regrets was not seeing Waits when he came to the Playhouse in Edinburgh in 2008. Ticket prices were eye-watering, and there was all manner of palaver about showing ID to get in. I figured he’d return. He never has.

Allan Crow is Editor of the Fife Free Press, sister paper of The Scotsman