Tom Waits and the Silencing of the Margins.
In his book The Many Lives of Tom Waits, Patrick Humphries writes that Tom Waits’ voice “sounds like it was hauled through Hades in a dredger.” Waits himself likes the comparison of “Louis Armstrong and Ethel Merman meeting in Hell.” Tom Waits, the poet of the American margins, the “prince of melancholy,” is a crafter of lyrics. He is also a recording artist and live performer of legend. Yet, all of this greatness is shadowed by his voice, a voice so iconic that when Doritos and Volkswagon tried to imitate it, he sued them and won. His voice is that of legend, and yet, I think it is safe to say, we will never experience a voice like his in pop culture again.
Wait, but surely there will be someone somewhere who sings like Tom Waits. Yes, the great Canadian singer Ben Caplan comes to mind. However, that is not what I mean. What I mean is as music becomes more commodity-driven and less likely to take risks, is it safe to say that we will never have another voice like Waits in popular music again?
Recently, in a chat with my kids, I said, “you could sing it.” Their reaction was one of shock and followed with “I can’t sing.” Furthering our conversation, it became evident that the bar by which they judge their abilities are what they heard on the radio, an amalgam of pitch-perfected singers who tend to mash into each other. I am reminded of the story of Nina Simone playing piano at the Midtown Bar & Grill in Atlantic City. She was told to sing. She, like many, didn’t think she could. However, she couldn’t afford to say no to money, so she did so. Within weeks, the bar filled to hear her unique voice. However, that was a time when we rewarded uniqueness. Louis Armstrong. Ethel Merman. Hell, even Tiny Tim. Today, it seems like the pop music industry rewards music that sounds similar. Tom Waits could never exist in such a climate.
But, it is not just his voice. The Tom Waits of the 1980s was an Avant Guard artist in many ways. This week’s album Rain Dogs is a testament to this. Waits’ drummer Steven Hodges said that Rain Dogs was “dissonant enough that it was really interesting.” Killian Fox put forth a similar sentiment at the Guardian, who called the arrangements “drunk and disorderly.” Just take a quick peek through the internet to see posts that read, “how would you classify Tom Waits’ music?”. Think about the last time you heard arrangements and musicianship like this on a popular record. The truth seems to be that modern record companies, production teams, and management don’t promote music like Waits anymore.
Of course, people will point out that Waits was signed to a relatively small label Island Records. And, there is certainly something to be said for small labels allowing artistic growth. However, there are thousands of smaller labels still in existence, but the corporate model that exists today seems to be one in which even those smaller labels (unless targeting niche markets) are merely imitating the sound that is evident in the charts. This culture does not allow for the originality of a Tom Waits. It does not allow for the dark subject matter that encapsulated Waits. And, most certainly, the culture of today’s music could never allow a voice like Waits’.
In 2019 Ben Malkin called Tom Waits “music’s greatest chameleon.” Waits has always had a strange and wonderful story to tell, from ’70 Dylanesque folky to avant-garde voice from the unknown margins to alternative music’s weird uncle. And, his voice has played a central role in that story. Over his long career, Waits has gained fans at every turn. Fans pack venues to see his rare performances. Critics, fans, and fans of music, in general, celebrate his voice as the poet of the abyss. Sadly, voices like Waits are — like the characters he so often sings about — stashed away in the dark corners of the music industry.
