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Tom Waits: The Heart of Saturday Night
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Label: |
Elektra Entertainment |
| Released: |
1974 |
Time:
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40:54
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| Category: |
Progressive Rock |
| Producer(s): |
Bones Howe |
| Rating: |
********.. (8/10) |
| Media type: |
CD
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| Web address: |
www.anti.com |
| Appears with: |
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| Purchase date: |
2002.05.03 |
| Price in €: |
9,99 |
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[1] New Coat of Paint (T.Waits) - 3:20
[2] San Diego Serenade (T.Waits) - 3:25
[3] Semi Suite (T.Waits) - 3:22
[4] Shiver Me Timbers (T.Waits) - 4:21
[5] Diamonds on My Windshield (T.Waits) - 3:10
[6] The Heart of Saturday Night (T.Waits) - 3:50
[7] Fumblin' With the Blues (T.Waits) - 2:59
[8] Please Call Me, Baby (T.Waits) - 4:23
[9] Depot Depot (T.Waits) - 3:42
[10] Drunk on the Moon (T.Waits) - 5:05
[11] The Ghosts of Saturday Night (T.Waits) - 3:17
| A
r t i s t s , P e r s o n n e l |
|
TOM WAITS - Guitar, Piano, Vocals
SHELLY MANNE - Drums
BOB ALCIVAR - Arranger
GENE CIPRIANO - Clarinet
BONES HOWE - Percussion, Engineer
JIM HUGHART - Bass
JACK SHELDON - Trumpet
FRANK VICARI - Tenor Saxophone
GEOFF HOWE - 2nd Engineer
TERRY DUNAVAN - Mastering
CAL SCHENKEL - Art Direction
SCOTT SMITH - Photography
PAMELA VALE - Production Co-orination
| C
o m m e n t s , N o t e s |
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1974 LP Asylum 1015
1974 CS Asylum TC5-1015
1974 CD Asylum 7559-60597-2
If Closing Time, Tom Waits' debut album, consisted of love songs set in
a late-night world of bars and neon signs, its follow-up, The Heart of
Saturday Night, largely dispensed with the romance in favor of poetic
depictions of the same setting. 0n "Diamonds on My Windshield" and "The
Ghosts of Saturday Night," Waits didn't even sing, instead reciting his
verse rhythmically against bass and drums like a Beat hipster.
Musically, the album contained the same mixture of folk, blues, and
jazz as its predecessor, with producer Bones Howe occasionally bringing
in an orchestra to underscore the loping melodies. Waits' songs were
sometimes sketchier in addition to being more impersonal, but "(Looking
For) The Heart of Saturday Night" and "Semi Suite" were the equal of
anything on Closing Time. Still, with lines such as "...the clouds are
like headlines / Upon a new front page sky" and references to "a
24-hour moon" and "champagne stars," Waits' imagery was beginning to
get florid, and in material this stylized, the danger of self-parody
was always present.
William Ruhlmann, All-Music Guide, © 1992 - 2002 AEC One Stop Group, Inc.
The Eagles might have covered his song "Ol' 55," but Tom Waits was cut
from a different cloth than California's other singer-songwriters--he
suggested a scruffy beat poet who'd walked out of a forgotten scene of
Jack Kerouac's On the Road. Waits's beatnik schtick could get old, and
he developed into a much more musically adventurous songwriter in later
years, but his second album contains some of his best early work,
including the sweet romantic blues of "New Coat of Paint" ("You wear a
dress baby, I'll wear a tie"), and his best hipster recitation,
"Diamonds on My Windshield." Two songs are enduring classics: the
doleful, dirge-like "San Diego Serenade" ("Never saw the morning till I
stayed up all night") and the touchingly sweet "(Looking for) The Heart
of Saturday Night" ("Stoppin' on the red, goin' on the green, `cause
tonight'll be like nothin' that you've ever seen").
John Milward, Amazon.com
"..marked the start proper of Waits's boho image, with a voice
weatherbeaten beyond his years, an endless cast of lowlife barfly
characters.."
Q Magazine (10/92, p.100) - 4 Stars - Excellent
Tom Waits is an urban romantic poet whose lyrics echo the oral Beat
poetry pioneered by Kerouac, Ginsberg, Ferlinghetti and Corso in the
Fifties. Like the Beats, Waits has an ear for the underlying rhythms of
American speech and an impressive ability to catalog and juxtapose
provocative snatches of cityscape while creating a grandly sentimental
vision. Waits has the special ability to redeem cliches—to make such
phrases as "lonesome ol' town" and "ol' bloodshot moon" at once sincere
and sardonic.
While so many singer/songwriters concern themselves with escape from
the city, Waits's songs express passionate love for the seamier side of
Los Angeles and its environs. Booze, cigarettes and gasoline fuel his
world of neon signs, gas stations, diners, bus depots, barmaids and
sailors, all of which merge into an evocation of ecstatic nighttime
restlessness.
Waits's excellent first album, Closing Time, conjured this vision less
directly than The Heart of Saturday Night, which obsessively searches
it out. While Heart doesn't contain any song quite as arresting as "01'
55" on the first album, most of its material surpasses the rest of
Closing Time. Waits has a marvelously raspy voice, a jazz singer's
phrasing, and plays a fair piano. The material on Heart ranges from
spoken jazz-poetry to doleful melodic lyricism. "Diamonds on My
Windshield," the one entirely spoken cut, celebrates being on the road.
A first-person monolog delivered Oscar Brown-style, "Diamonds" reads
like poetry:
Oceanside ends the ride
With San Clemente commin up
And Sunday desperados slip by
And cruise with a dry buck
And the Orange drive-in, neon billing
And the theaters filling to the brim
With Slave Girls, Hot Spur, Bucket Full of Sin*
Two other songs—the title cut and "The Ghosts of Saturday Night"—also
have very strong lyrics. Musically, the most beautiful moment is "San
Diego Serenade," a slow waltz with a lovely string arrangement by Mike
Melvoin.
Among today's young, white singer/songwriters, only Bruce Springsteen
plays with language so abandonedly, though Waits's cool, jazz-flavored
pop is utterly dissimilar to Springsteen's hot rock & roll. In his
liner notes, Waits lists among his many influences Kerouac, Randy
Newman and Frank Sinatra. One that he omits is Hoagy Carmichael, with
his laconically sentimental keyboard style.
Beneath the sophisticated brilliance of his lyrics, Waits reveals a
haunting innocence—the sense of a loner circling and recircling the
same turf, musing out loud.
*"Diamonds on My Windshield" by Tom Waits. ©1974, Fifth Floor Music, Inc.
STEPHEN HOLDEN - RS 175
© Copyright 2002 RollingStone.com
NEW COAT OF PAINT
Let's put a new coat of paint on this lonesome old town
Set 'em up, we'll be knockin' em down.
You wear a dress, baby, and I'll wear a tie.
We'll laugh at that old bloodshot moon in that burgundy sky
All your scribbled lovedreams, are lost or thrown away,
Here amidst the shuffle of an overflowing day
Our love needs a transfusion so let's shoot it full of wine
Fishin' for a good time starts with throwin'in your line.
SAN DIEGO SERENADE
I never saw the morning 'til I stayed up all night
I never saw the sunshine 'til you turned out the light
I never saw my hometown until I stayed away too long
I never heard the melody, until I needed a song.
I never saw the white line, 'til I was leaving you behind
I never knew I needed you 'til I was caught up in a bind
I never spoke 'I love you' 'til I cursed you in vain,
I never felt my heartstrings until I nearly went insane.
I never saw the east coast 'til I move to the west
I never saw the moonlight until it shone off your breast
I never saw your heart 'til someone tried to steal,
tried to steal it away
I never saw your tears until they rolled down your face.
SEMI SUITE
Well you hate those diesels rollin'
And those Friday nights out bowlin'
When he's off for a twelve hour lay over night
You wish you had a dollar
For every time he hollered
That he's leavin'
And he's never comin' back
But the curtain-laced billow
And his hands on your pillow
And his trousers are hangin' on the chair
You're lyin' through your pain, babe
But you're gonna tell him he's your man
And you ain't got the courage to leave
He tells you that you're on his mind
You're the only one he's ever gonna find
It's kind-a special, understands his complicated soul...
But the only place a man can breathe
And collect his thoughts is
Midnight and flyin' away on the road.
But you've packed and unpacked
So many times you've lost track
And the steam heat is drippin' off the walls
But when you hear his engines
You're lookin' through the window in the kitchen and you know
You're always gonna be there when he calls
'Cause he's a truck drivin' man
Stoppin' when he can
He's a truck drivin' man
Stoppin' when he can
SHIVER ME TIMBERS
I'm leavin' my fam'ly
Leavin' all my friends
My body's at home
But my heart's in the wind
Where the clouds are like headlines
On a new front page sky
My tears are salt water
And the moon's full and high
And I know Martin Eden's
Gonna be proud of me
And many before me
Who've been called by the sea
To be up in the crow's nest
Singin' my say
Shiver me Timbers
'Cause I'm a-sailin' away
And the fog's liftin'
And the sand's shiftin'
I'm driftin' on out
Ol' Captain Ahab
He ain't got nothin' on me, now.
So swallow me, don't follow me
I'm trav'lin' alone
Blue water's my daughter
'n I'm gonna skip like a stone
So please call my missus
Gotta tell her not to cry
'Cause my goodbye is written
By the moon in the sky
Hey and nobody knows me
I can't fathom my stayin'
Shiver me timbers
'Cause I'm a-sailin' away
And the fog's liftin'
And the sand's shiftin'
I'm driftin' on out
Ol' Captain Ahab
He ain't got nothin' on me
So come and swallow me, follow me
I'm trav'lin' alone
Blue water's my daughter
'n I'm gonna skip like a stone
And I'm leavin' my family
Leavin' all my friends
My body's at home
But my heart's in the wind
Where the clouds are like headlines
Upon a new front page sky
And shiver me timbers
'Cause I'm a-sailin' away
DIAMONDS ON MY WINDSHIELD
Diamonds on my windshield
Tears from heaven
Pulling into town on the Interstate
Pulling a steel train in the rain
The wind bites my cheek through the wing
Fast flying, freway driving
Always makes me sing
There's a Duster tryin' to change my tune
Pulling up fast on the right
Rolling restlessly, twenty-four hour moon
Wisconsin hiker with a cue-ball head
Wishing he was home in a Wiscosin bed
fifteen feet of snow in the East
Colder then a welldigger's ass
Oceanside it ends the ride, San Clemente coming up
Sunday desperadoes slip by, gas station closed,
cruise with a dry back
Orange drive-in the neon billin'
Theatre's fillin' to the brim
Slave girls and a hot spurn bucket full of sin
Metropolitan area with interchange and connections
Fly-by-nights from Riverside
Black and white plates, out of state,
running a little bit late
Sailors jockey for the fast lane
101 don't miss it
Rolling hills and concrete fields
The broken line's on your mind
Eights go east and the fives go north
The merging nexus back and forth
You see your sign, cross the line,
signalling with a blink
The radio's gone off the air
Gives you time to think
You ease it out and you creep across
Intersection light goes out
You hear the rumble
As you fumble for a cigarette
Blazing through this midnight jungle
Remember someone that you met
One more block; the engine talks
And whispers 'home at last'
It whispers, whispers, whispers
'home at last', home at last
(LOOKING FOR) THE HEART OF SATURDAY NIGHT
Well you gassed her up
Behind the wheel
With your arm around your sweet one
In your Oldsmobile
Barrelin' down the boulevard
You're looking for the heart of Saturday night
And you got paid on Friday
And your pockets are jinglin'
And you see the lights
You get all tinglin' cause you're cruisin' with a 6
And you're looking for the heart of Saturday night
Then you comb your hair
Shave your face
Tryin' to wipe out ev'ry trace
All the other days
In the week you know that this'll be the Saturday
You're reachin' your peak
Stoppin' on the red
You're goin' on the green
'Cause tonight'll be like nothin'
You've ever seen
And you're barrelin' down the boulevard
Lookin' for the heart of Saturday night
Tell me is the crack of the poolballs, neon buzzin?
Telephone's ringin'; it's your second cousin
Is it the barmaid that's smilin' from the corner of her eye?
Magic of the melancholy tear in your eye.
Makes it kind of quiver down in the core
'Cause you're dreamin' of them Saturdays that came before
And now you're stumblin'
You're stumblin' onto the heart of Saturday night
Well you gassed her up
And you're behind the wheel
With your arm around your sweet one
In your Oldsmobile
Barrellin' down the boulevard,
You're lookin' for the heart of Saturday night
Is the crack of the poolballs, neon buzzin?
Telephone's ringin'; it's your second cousin
And the barmaid is smilin' from the corner of her eye
Magic of the melancholy tear in your eye.
Makes it kind of special down in the core
And you're dreamin' of them Saturdays that came before
It's found you stumblin'
Stumblin' onto the heart of Saturday night
And you're stumblin'
Stumblin onto the heart of Saturday night
FUMBLIN' WITH THE BLUES
Friday left me fumblin' with the blues
And it's hard to win when you always lose
Because the nightspots spend your spirit
Beat your head against the wall
Two dead ends and you've still got to choose
You know the bartenders
They all know my name
And they catch me when I'm pulling up lame
And I'm a pool-shooting-shimmy-shyster shaking my head
When I should be living clean instead
You know the ladies I've been seeing off and on
Well they spend your love and then they're gone
You can't be lovin' someone who is savage and cruel
Take your love and then they leave on out of town
No they do
Well now fallin' in love is such a breeze
But its standin' up that's so hard for me
I wanna squeeze you but I'm scared to death I'd break your back
You know your perfume
Well it won't let me be
You know the bartenders all know my name
And they catch me when I'm pulling up lame
And I'm a pool-shooting-shimmy-shyster shaking my head
When I should be living clean instead
Come on baby
Let your love light shine
Gotta bury me inside of your fire
Because your eyes are 'nough to blind me
You're like a-looking at the sun
You gotta whisper tell me I'm the one
Come on and whisper tell me I'm the one
Gotta whisper tell me I'm the one
Come on and whisper tell me I'm the one
PLEASE CALL ME, BABY
The evening fell just like a star
Left a trail behind
You spit as you slammed out the door
If this is love we're crazy
As we fight like cats and dogs
But I just know there's got to be more
So please call me, baby
Wherever you are
It's too cold to be out walking in the streets
We do crazy things when we're wounded
Everyone's a bit insane
I don't want you catching your death of cold
Out walking in the rain
I admit that I ain't no angel
I admit that I ain't no saint
I'm selfish and I'm cruel and I'm blind
If I exorcise my devils
Well my angels may leave too
When they leave they're so hard to find
(Chorus)
We're always at each other's throats
It drives me up the wall
Most of the time I'm just blowing off steam
And I wish to God you'd leave me
And I wish to God you'd stay
Life's so different than it is in your dreams
(Chorus)
DEPOT, DEPOT
Depot, depot, what am I doing here?
Depot, depot, what am I doing here?
I ain't coming, I ain't going
My confusion is showing
Outside the midnight wind is blowing Sixth Avenue
I'm gonna paint myself blue
At the depot
I watch the taxis pull up and idle
I can't claim title to a single memory
He offered me a key
'Cause opportunity don't knock
He has no tongue and she cannot talk
You're gonna shuffle when you walk
At the depot
This peeping-Tom needs a peephole
And an uptempo song
To move me along
When I find this depot baby
I'm on a roll just like a pool ball baby
I'm gonna be there at the roll call maybe
At the depot
Outside the midnight wind is blowing Sixth Avenue
Oh, tell me what a poor boy to do
At the depot
I'm on a roll just like a pool ball baby
I'm gonna be there at the roll call maybe
At the depot
The depot
DRUNK ON THE MOON
Tight-slacked clad girls on the graveyard shift
'Neath the cement stroll
Catch the midnight drift
Cigar chewing charlie
In that newspaper nest
grifting hot horse tips
On who's running the best
And I'm blinded by the neon
Don't try and change my tune
'Cause I thought I heard a saxophone
I'm drunk on the moon
And the moon's a silver slipper
It's pouring champagne stars
Broadway's like a serpent
Pulling shiny top-down cars
Laramer is teeming
With that undulating beat
And some Bonneville is screaming
It's way wilder down the street
(Chorus)
Hearts flutter and race
The moon's on the wane
Tarts mutter their dream hopes
The night will ordain
Come schemers and dancers
Cherry delight
As a Cleveland-bound Greyhound
And it cuts throught the night
And I've hawked all my yesterdays
Don't try and change my tune
'Cause I thought I heard a saxophone
I'm drunk on the moon
THE GHOSTS OF SATURDAY NIGHT (AFTER HOURS AT NAPOLEONE'S PIZZA HOUSE)
A cab combs the snake,
Tryin' to rake in that last night's fare,
And a solitary sailor
Who spends the facts of his life
like small change on strangers...
Paws his inside P-coat pocket
for a welcome twenty-five cents,
And the last bent butt from a package of Kents,
As he dreams of a waitress with Maxwell House eyes
And marmalade thighs with scrambled yellow hair.
Her rhinestone-studded moniker says, "Irene"
As she wipes the wisps of dishwater blonde from her eyes
And the Texaco beacon burns on,
The steel-belted attendant with a 'Ring and Valve Special'...
Cryin' "Fill'er up and check that oil"
"You know it could be a distributor and it could be a coil."
The early mornin' final edition's on the stands,
And that town cryer's cryin' there with nickels in his hands.
Pigs in a blanket sixty-nine cents,
Eggs - roll 'em over and a package of Kents,
Adam and Eve on a log, you can sink 'em damn straight,
Hash browns, hash browns, you know I can't be late.
And the early dawn cracks out a carpet of diamond
Across a cash crop car lot
filled with twilight Coupe Devilles,
Leaving the town in a-keeping
Of the one who is sweeping
Up the ghost of Saturday night...
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