Tom Waits Korner, Volume 1
Got a fabulous compilation-book of Waits interviews from Lake O Library, Innocent When You Dream. Have been reading it at work, and figured it would make for good blogging... not that my free time has been too boring. I spent maybe too much of the last few days out of my gourd, but have also hit a beerfest, worked overtime, sung "Radio, Radio" at karaoke, discovered the music of John freakin Prine, helped folks (Jamie and Hales) move to a new house, and most of all hung out with my friend Tommy G, who I knew on LJ but just met up with last week, and have already hung out with 3 times.
Still, all of that is kinda a haze.... uh, yeah... so, since these Tom Waits interviews are written down in front of me, I'll transcribe them for your magellafication:
interview with The Onion, 2002:
Q-- Many of your albums are filled with references to sailors and the sea. Do you think there's a reason for that, beyond growing up in San Diego?
Tom Waits-- I think all songs should have weather in them. Names of towns and streets, and they should have a couple of sailors. I think those are just song prerequisites.
Q-- For yours, or for all songs?
TW-- Oh, all songs. Most of them fail miserably. I go looking in other people's songs for their sailors and their towns. I don't know, everybody has their things that they gravitate towards. Some people put toy cars or clouds or cat crap.
Magnet magazine, 1999:
Q--Getting back to the names of places, St. Louis seems to pop up a lot, in "Hold On" from the new record, "Time" from Rain Dogs, and you've mentioned it a lot in interviews. Ever lived there?
TW-- No, never lived there. It's a good name to stick in a song. Every song needs to be anatomically correct: you need weather, you need the name of the town, something to eat. Every song needs certain ingredients to be balanced. You're writing a song and you need a town, and you look out the window and you see "St. Louis Cardinals" on some kid's t-shirt, and you say, "Oh, we'll use that."
Magnet magazine, 2004
Q-- ...I think if you had to distill the essence of Real Gone down to one line, it's where you say, "I want to believe in the mercy of the world again." I think so many people feel that way right now.
TW-- Do you know who said that? Bob Dylan. He didn't say it in a song; he said it in an interview. He was just talking about the state of the world, so I threw that one in there.
Q-- I was reading an interview you did with Terry Gilliam, and at one point you said to him, "I feel like there is a battle going on all the time between light and dark, and I wonder sometimes if the dark has one more spear."
TW-- Do you know who said that to me? Fred Gwynne.
Q-- Herman Munster?
TW-- Yeah. A good friend of mine. We worked together on The Cotton Club. We used to talk all the time. Very deep guy. We rode to work every day in a van; we'd hang out for hours and hours. Sweet guy. Head bigger than a horse. I don't think they added any plaster when they made him up as Herman. But getting back to that bit about light and dark: I do believe that... but I also believe that when you do something really good, it goes into an account and other folks can write checks against it. I really believe that.
Still, all of that is kinda a haze.... uh, yeah... so, since these Tom Waits interviews are written down in front of me, I'll transcribe them for your magellafication:
interview with The Onion, 2002:
Q-- Many of your albums are filled with references to sailors and the sea. Do you think there's a reason for that, beyond growing up in San Diego?
Tom Waits-- I think all songs should have weather in them. Names of towns and streets, and they should have a couple of sailors. I think those are just song prerequisites.
Q-- For yours, or for all songs?
TW-- Oh, all songs. Most of them fail miserably. I go looking in other people's songs for their sailors and their towns. I don't know, everybody has their things that they gravitate towards. Some people put toy cars or clouds or cat crap.
Magnet magazine, 1999:
Q--Getting back to the names of places, St. Louis seems to pop up a lot, in "Hold On" from the new record, "Time" from Rain Dogs, and you've mentioned it a lot in interviews. Ever lived there?
TW-- No, never lived there. It's a good name to stick in a song. Every song needs to be anatomically correct: you need weather, you need the name of the town, something to eat. Every song needs certain ingredients to be balanced. You're writing a song and you need a town, and you look out the window and you see "St. Louis Cardinals" on some kid's t-shirt, and you say, "Oh, we'll use that."
Magnet magazine, 2004
Q-- ...I think if you had to distill the essence of Real Gone down to one line, it's where you say, "I want to believe in the mercy of the world again." I think so many people feel that way right now.
TW-- Do you know who said that? Bob Dylan. He didn't say it in a song; he said it in an interview. He was just talking about the state of the world, so I threw that one in there.
Q-- I was reading an interview you did with Terry Gilliam, and at one point you said to him, "I feel like there is a battle going on all the time between light and dark, and I wonder sometimes if the dark has one more spear."
TW-- Do you know who said that to me? Fred Gwynne.
Q-- Herman Munster?
TW-- Yeah. A good friend of mine. We worked together on The Cotton Club. We used to talk all the time. Very deep guy. We rode to work every day in a van; we'd hang out for hours and hours. Sweet guy. Head bigger than a horse. I don't think they added any plaster when they made him up as Herman. But getting back to that bit about light and dark: I do believe that... but I also believe that when you do something really good, it goes into an account and other folks can write checks against it. I really believe that.