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By neither getting too famous nor giving up for a quarter century,
bull-roaring low-life chronicler Tom Waits has evolved into a role
model for young alt-rockers who hope some day to be old alt-rockers.
So after checkered careers on two major labels, the second
summed up nicely on last year's Beautiful Maladies: The Island
Years (Island), Waits took the logical step: he signed to the
punk-based L.A. indie Epitaph. Yet Mule Variations,
his first new music
in six years, is his least confrontational album since his 1973
debut--surprisingly tender, adding more blues to the clanging
cabaret-rock he invented in the '80s. Waits is as sardonic as ever
on Big in Japan, Eyeball Kid, and What's He Building?,
but elsewhere it's as if his love for his wife and collaborator
Kathleen Brennan has finally taken over his music. This
emotionality adds welcome dimension to his ingrained weirdness,
which can seem pretty smug on its own. Here's hoping old alt-rockers
get the point.
Scratch a band slotted alt-country two years ago and you'll find a
band that claims it's all about good songs today. Hear for instance
Wilco's Summer Teeth (Reprise) and the Old 97's'
Fight Songs
(Elektra), both sure to elicit howls of outrage from steel-guitar
loyalists, both long enough on tune to satisfy any rock and
roller's hummability jones. Personally, I like the alt-country idea
enough myself to believe the Old 97's' guitar-hooked lyrical
specifics are a surer means to full-fledged good songs than the
piano-dominated pop generalizations Wilco's Jeff Tweedy deploys so
skillfully. Try Oppenheimer, the name of the street where the 97's'
Rhett Miller falls in love, or 19, about being too young to know
how good you're getting it.
Playboy, Apr. 1999
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Mar. 1999 |
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