Thoughts On The Dead

Musings on the Most Ridiculous Band I Can't Stop Listening To

Tag: tom waits

Merry Christmas, Ya Filthy Animals

He said that he loved me
Even though it wasn’t his baby.
He says that he’ll raise him up
Like he would his own son.

Joseph doesn’t get enough credit. Mary, Mary, Mary.

 

Paradise: Waits

Ain’t too many of Tom’s songs fit for Monday mornings, but this is one of ’em.

Tom Waits For No Man

A new old song about old new problems.

Tom Waits For No Man

If you didn’t hear his voice in your head the second you saw the photo, then I don’t wanna talk to you any more.

OR

The Step Brothers reboot looks awful.

OR

Garcia was not the Last Great Smoker. No, that was Peter O’Toole.

Lighting a freshie off the dying butt is a power move, but doing it on national teevee is god-level fuckery.

OR

Bet you a million bucks Tom’s watch is broken.

This Is Not Thoughts On Hold On

I don’t know who it was that requested Thoughts on Hold On, but how dare you? First off, I don’t even think “Thoughts on Hold On” is a concept. Second, I do not take requests. Your demand, shouted from the cheap seats and in a tone I rebuke, was offensive and aggressive. How dare you? You think me a jukebox? Shove a quarter up my asshole and press C16 for Highway To Hell? I am no jukebox. I am an artist, dammit, just like Monet or Manet or Kanye. I say again: how dare you.

Plus, it’s obvious which song entitled Hold On is the best.

This one’s from Mule Variations, which was Tom Waits’ Late-Period Artistic Resurgence Album. (All rock stars have the same career: discuss.) It’s a little song. You could put it in your coat pocket next to your Chapstick. It’s a beautiful little song.

But there’s this verse:

Down by the Riverside motel
It’s ten below and falling
By a ninety-nine cent store
She closed her eyes and started swaying
But it’s so hard to dance that way
When it’s cold and there’s no music
Oh, your old hometown’s so far away
But inside your head there’s a record that’s playing

It’s not such a little song.

Everybody else is hunting for that second-place finish. And, seemingly, everyfuckingbody else wrote a song called Hold On: Carole King, Cliff Richard, the Commodores; the Lennons John and Julian; Gary U.S. Bonds, Kansas, Chicago, Joe Tex, Good Charlotte, and the Alabama Shakes. There are also songs called Hold On from Pusha T and Trick Daddy, both of whoms’ rap names were made up by middle-aged white novelists.

But we do find a hidden gem (that’s actually fairly dire) in the pile:

That is Freddie Mercury (with the mustache) and Jo Dare (the person who is not Freddie Mercury) singing a song entitled (you guessed it) Hold On from the soundtrack of a movie (I’ve never heard of) called Zabou. Watch at your peril, as I will give you but one warning: mid-80’s synth-reggae.

And that’s that. No more requests. I will, however, take commissions for those who partake in the Donate Button.

Commissions?

I am an artist. Artists take commissions.

You should take a bullet to the dick.

Read the news. We live in a post-should reality.

True.

Stars Beginning To Fade

I posted this song yesterday, but this version is better.