Tom Waits: Rain Dogs (1985)
"I'll tell you all my secrets, but I'll lie about my past."
I just learned that's NOT Tom Waits pictured on the cover of 1985's Rain Dogs, but an unknown subject captured by Swedish photographer Anders Petersen as part of a series shot at Hamburg, Germany's Café Lehmitz in the late 1960s.
Now I'll try to distract you from my ignorance by saying nothing is exactly as it seems in the world of Tom Waits, who, when asked, joked that the photo depicted "Me and Liza Minnelli right after she got out of the Betty Ford Center."
In all seriousness, that blurry distinction between fantasy and reality, flippancy and profundity, says a lot about Waits and perhaps his best-known LP, which sounds like a meeting ground for his beats-and-jazz-inspired '70s and genre-defying later years.
Written and recorded during the longtime Angeleno's brief sojourn in New York City, the title reflects Tom's impression that the local homeless population had simply lost their way, like dogs disoriented when rain washes away all the scents that guide them.
In an interview with Barney Hoskyns, Waits also credited his temporary home for inspiring Rain Dogs' diversity: "I was exposed to a kind of melange of sounds [there], because I went to clubs more ... any place you move to is going to have some effect."
Indeed, the descriptions used for musical exotica like "Singapore," "Clap Hands," "Gun Street Girl," and the title track over the years -- e.g. "mutant dwarf orchestra," "junkyard music" (former producer Bones Howe coined that one) -- are just as baffling and amusing as the songs themselves.
Among the other standout curios: "Jockey Full of Bourbon" taught Cake, the band, everything, "Tango 'till They're Sore" wed the lyrics overhead to a drunken, German music-hall vibe, and "9th & Hennepin" was a spoken jazz piece named for the Minneapolis street corner where Waits once stumbled upon a pimp war!
By contrast, a few songs were almost conventional in their embrace of melody, including "Hang Down Your Head," the country-influenced "Blind Love," and the copyright that filled Waits' coffers, "Downtown Train" -- though Rod Stewart himself admitted that his A&R man had to play the song three or four times before Rod grasped its hit potential.
Oh, and Rain Dogs' extensive roll call of studio musicians featured names like Robert Quine (ex-Voidoids, Lou Reed, etc.), Tony Levin (King Crimson, Peter Gabriel), Hall & Oates regular G.E. Smith, and even Keith (friggin') Richards, who guests on "Big Black Mariah."
All of which says a lot about Waits' considerable prestige among fellow musicians by 1985, in spite of all that "wacky music," and it no doubt bolstered his confidence to stretch and show the length and breadth of his songwriting abilities.
This "something for (nearly) everyone" track-list likely explains why so many Tom Waits fans -- especially those that fall short of fanatic status -- often point to Rain Dogs (I almost wrote River Dogs, just now) as their favorite item in his long discography.
More Tom Waits: Closing Time, The Heart of Saturday Night, Nighthawks at the Diner, Small Change, Blue Valentine, Swordfishtrombones, Mule Variations.
