Tom Waits

Rain Dogs is the middle chapter in Waits' dark, Kurt Weill-styled triumvirate of ornate storytelling. But this album features Marc Ribot, whose distinct, pointed guitar work adds an element of scratchy chaos to the murky beauty found on tracks like "Clap Hands." "Anywhere I Lay My Head" is one of Waits' best moments.

Tom Waits' biggest problem has always been a tendency to romanticize the abyss. His
claustrophobic night world -- peopled with crusty old salts, whores with hearts of gold and
three-time losers -- is all margins and no center, a sentimental never land where
grotesqueness isn't merely accepted -- it's a badge of authenticity and hipness.
Predictably, Rain Dogs, Waits' first LP since 1983's Swordfish trombones, indulges... More >

By pigging out on a nineteen-track LP that goes on for fifty-four minutes without a bad cut, Waits demonstrates how fully he's outgrown the bleary self-indulgences--booze, bathos, beatnikism--that bogged down his '70s. He's in control of his excesses now, and although his backing musicians shift constantly, he's worked out a unique and identifiable lounge-lizard sound that suits his status as the poet of America's non-nine-to-fivers. But the sheer bulk of the thing does get wearing--it never peaks. I wish he'd figured out a way to throw "Union Square," "Cemetery Polka," and "Clap Hands" into sharper relief. And realize that those might not even be his high points, or yours. (Grade - B+)