Released - October 1974
Genre - Jazz
Producer - Bones Howe
Selected Personnel - Tom Waits (Vocals/Piano/Guitar); Jim Hughart (Double Bass); Pete Christlieb (Saxophone); Jim Gordon (Drums); Bob Alcivar (Arrangements)
Standout Track - (Lookin' For) The Heart Of Saturday Night
I've been doing some maths. By looking at how many albums are currently on my list of Best Albums Ever, if I keep up a strike rate of five reviews per month (a target I've not been solidly hitting recently due to Being Very Busy, but I reckon I can do it) then it'll take me ten years before I finish. That's assuming I don't listen to any other albums between now and 2024 that I add to the list. I'm also aware that not many people read this blog and this is very much a personal crusade I've set myself rather than something that legions of fans are dying to see completed, but it's an exercise I enjoy so I'm going to try and commit to five reviews per month from now on. That means that every time I manage to get above that average then it all closes down that ten-year-gap before I can talk about Future Islands. Also, to be honest, my consumption of new music has slowed slightly in recent months. I've got really into Neil Young and classic funk and soul this year, but my burning need to listen to a new album every week or so has died down and I'm now much happier listening to old music I love but haven't listened to in a while, so there's every chance that I might even reach a definitive end point for this blog one day. I'm still listening to the odd new thing, though, so it's more likely that I'll never be done.
Anyway, onwards with the current chronology. Tom Waits's second album was another of the very first of his albums I heard, and one it took me slightly longer to love than the instant classic debut Closing Time. There are a handful of songs that are immediately on the same level as the stellar material from the previous album, but a number of tracks that took longer to worm their way into their affections. Stylistically, it follows directly on from Closing Time, although it's slightly more reliant on the full band lineup - whereas that earlier record was very much founded on Waits on the piano or guitar with the odd contribution from other band members, there are songs here like "Semi Suite" that feel much more built around a full band jazz setup, with Jim Hughart's lazy, ponderous basslines and Pete Christlieb's saxophone parts just as incremental as Waits's own instrumental contributions. There's a sense that the band here gels far better than the musicians on Closing Time, none of whom are back here, while Hughart, Christlieb, arranger Bob Alcivar and, most notably, producer Bones Howe would go on to work with Waits regularly over subsequent years (Howe would become Waits's closest musical ally for the next decade, producing all of his 70s albums on the Asylum label before abruptly being dropped by Waits as he shifted into new musical territory in the 80s).
In terms of the evolution of Waits's musical ideology and persona, The Heart Of Saturday Night forms an interesting little pairing with Closing Time as perhaps the only two albums where Waits was making a concerted effort to be a fairly traditional singer-songwriter. From 1975's Nighthawks At The Diner onwards, his shambling, ragged, drunken enigma persona came before any attempt to be perceived as a genuine troubadour, so this is perhaps the last time we see Waits at his most open and genuine. That's not to say that the songs are about anything particularly soul-baring or vulnerable, simply that this is the last time he makes no effort to disguise the person behind the music, while everything from 1975 onwards would be part of a brilliantly executed plan to blur fiction and reality.
Even here one can sense a slight shift in focus in his songwriting. Whereas the songs on Closing Time had mostly been fairly introspective songs of loneliness and longing, The Heart Of Saturday Night sees him looking outwards, taking account of the world around him. As ever with Waits, it's difficult to know if the more introverted songs on Closing Time were genuine attempts at self-expression or just fanciful stories ("Martha," at the very least, is hidden in a haze of obfuscation via fiction, being the story of an old man calling his high school sweetheart), but however much of it is "real," you can feel Waits looking up from his piano and trying to make sense of the world around him rather than just singing about himself. This is most obvious in the beautiful title track, one of the prettiest ballads Waits ever wrote which, with its opening sounds of midtown traffic, explores the small, insignificant details of everyday life on a Saturday night - in this song, possibly, is the very heart of everything that makes so much of Waits's music special. Talking about the song, Waits claimed it was an exploration of the details of mundane American life that Jack Kerouac chronicled - a search for some kind of meaning or absolute truth in the simple details of the lives of ordinary people. This would all come into sharper focus in later years when coming through the fractured mirror of Waits's drunken barfly act, but here it's rendered simply and beautifully, and is perhaps the most perfect example of what Waits tried to explore through music as he ever made.
It's one of a number of beautiful songs here - "San Diego Serenade," with its lush string arrangements by Alcivar, is one of the most personal songs Waits ever wrote. Here, the sentiment isn't one he tries to disguise but he simply sings with a touching openness about how much he misses his hometown of San Diego now he's relocated to L.A, and coming to terms, just as Joni Mitchell did on "Big Yellow Taxi," that you don't know what you've got 'til it's gone. "Drunk On The Moon" is a more characteristically vague song that avoids such genuine sentimentality, but even with its fairly opaque meaning, is blessed with such a pretty melody that it still stands as one of the album's most beautiful moments. The ballads, though, are ultimately outnumbered by the cooler, jazzier, bluesy numbers, which were in short supply on the more stark Closing Time, which only really delivered on that front with "Ice Cream Man." Here, one can feel Waits really enjoying playing with a band he gels with, and from the cool, downtrodden swagger of "Fumblin' With The Blues" to the breezy swing of "New Coat Of Paint," which again sees Waits exploring the idea of a drunken night out and what it means, there are plenty of moments where his more upbeat, jazzy sensibilities really stand out. There's also the beginnings of Waits as poet with "Diamonds On My Windshield," which sees him narrating a spoken word stream-of-consciousness inner monologue over Hughart's walking bassline. Such spoken word pieces would become a staple of many of Waits's records to come, and his abilities as a storyteller are at the forefront. There's also a wonderful bleary-eyed tiredness to the spoken vocals of album closer "The Ghosts Of Saturday Night," which finds Waits wearily taking account of the empty cafe around him as all the drunks head home. It's a vividly realised portrait that brings the scene to life in front of the listener and proves how perfectly Waits can marry words to music to create a specific mood.
Overall, The Heart Of Saturday Night isn't one of Waits's most perfect records - it has some absolutely sublime moments in "New Coat Of Paint," "San Diego Serenade" and the perfection of "(Lookin' For) The Heart Of Saturday Night," but it also has some fairly forgettable moments like "Shiver Me Timbers" and "Depot, Depot." It also feels like quite a transitional album - there's none of the introverted heartbreak or sentiment of Closing Time, but the full strength of Waits as shambling raconteur and documenter of the seedy, desparate side of everyday American life had yet to fully crystallise. But as such it shows him in an interesting state of gathering together the elements of his songwriter that really work for him. It's also the last time Waits would be heard on record sounding relatively clear-throated, as his notorious rasp and growl would start to creep in on his next album. The Heart Of Saturday Night helped to develop Waits's cult following, but failed to be a big hit, and Asylum set about trying to work out how to sell on record just how unique a performer Waits was. Their solution was to record an album live in order to demonstrate his incredible skills as a storyteller and performer, which had perhaps been lost in a clinical studio environment. The result was possibly the first time that Tom Waits really achieved exactly what he wanted on an album.
Track Listing:
All songs written by Tom Waits.
1. New Coat Of Paint
2. San Diego Serenade
3. Semi Suite
4. Shiver Me Timbers
5. Diamonds On My Windshield
6. (Lookin' For) The Heart Of Saturday Night
7. Fumblin' With The Blues
8. Please Call Me, Baby
9. Depot, Depot
10. Drunk On The Moon
11. The Ghosts Of Saturday Night (After Hours At Napoleone's Pizza House)
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