Tom Waits—Closing Time

Tom Waits—Closing Time

Closing Time—Before there was "Time," there was Closing Time. Today, Tom Waits is at once a Grammy winner and a cult figure, a duality demonstrable by the body of songs written by Waits but called to attention by others. Prolific singer Rod Stewart, Meat Loaf, and even Scarlett Johansson are three of many; fans of E Street Radio may hear "Jersey Girl" from the native, and those who watch all five seasons of The Wire will have heard five arrangements of "Way Down in the Hole." While Waits is far from the caliber of influence predecessor Bob Dylan holds, the point stands that one who ingests information media has very possibly heard Tom Waits. But back in 1973, Closing Time wasn't exactly a smash, not recognized until the likes of Tim Buckley (himself undervalued) and the Eagles took on its songs. Looking back, it's easy to see why they did: the songs are easy to pick up and play, yet they have a distinctive excellence that leaves musicians wondering how they didn't write them first.

It seems retrospectively logical that the band who would later write "Life in the Fast Lane" covered "Ol' '55." Waits' original begins the album on a gentle note, belying its amusing inspiration from a friend who had to drive in reverse on the Pasadena Freeway to get his underage date home.¹ Beyond that, the song perfectly places the listener in the driver's seat, watching the sun rise and the "stars beginning to fade." "I Hope That I Don't Fall in Love with You" seems a strange sentiment at first glance, but perfectly captures the fear that comes with falling in love, perhaps at first sight or perhaps just in theory. Its lines "I had a beer and now I hear you calling out for me" and "I turn around to look at you/You're nowhere to be found/I search the place for your lost face/Guess I'll have another round" suggest that the source of his infatuation may be imaginary. It may be coincidence that the song is followed by the drunken regret of "Virginia Avenue," a theme that would be explored more explicitly on Small Change (1976) and parts of other releases.

"Old Shoes (& Picture Postcards)" is a song so perfect in its arrangement, naturally flowing and idyllic in atmosphere that it sounds like a standard, a tale of a breakup without remorse—for the author, at least. "Midnight Lullaby" is a modern twist on the old-time lullaby, spun more for a lover than a child, with a "Hush Little Baby" quote to boot. The side one closer "Martha" is the centerpiece, a dreamy, wistful piece where Waits refers to himself under a partial pseudonym. There is a stronger sense of the bittersweet here than anywhere else, probably because it seems to be the most personal of the album's songs. "Rosie" is the flip side of it, a lighter affair that suggests more a passing infatuation than longing. "Lonely" speaks to a mood rather than a particular thought, successfully attaining the image denoted by its title with its lack of accompaniment.

If there is any one point in Waits' early canon that forecast the Howlin' Wolf-inspired second phase of his career, it's "Ice Cream Man." While the performance is not exactly the long-lost cousin of "16 Shells from a Thirty-Ought-Six," his classicist euphemism echoing those of legendary bluesmen. "Little Trip to Heaven (On the Wings of Your Love)" is another classic, not impressing with its diminished-chord progression or its simple astronomical metaphors but the interplay between the two. "Grapefruit Moon" is heavy-heart nostalgia, functioning almost as a two-part conclusion with the instrumental "Closing Time" to sum up the feelings and concepts of the album while rounding out the jazz modality present throughout.

It's hard to say whether an artist like Tom Waits has a magnum opus when his discography is bursting with masterpieces or works that come very close. Closing Time is not his best or even his most consistent work, even if it would be considered those in most artists' catalogs. However, it is one of the best song-oriented works in all of popular music, being referred to as such only because of its seamless aggregate of rock, folk, and jazz. It's hard to say there's a work of music everyone could appreciate, but if there's any album that has a lot of universal appeal, it's Closing Time.

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1 Waits, VH1 Storytellers, 1999.^↩