I told a friend of mine I was going to a Tom Waits tribute night, and she said, "I like listening to Tom Waits when I'm drinking. He makes me feel sloppy."
Well for me the night was decidedly sober - the venue was unlicensed and I forgot to bring a mickey - but I did get caught up in the spirit of the evening and couldn't bear to take any notes. And I do have some memories…
The Solstice Cafe in Victoria hosts an annual celebration of Tom Waits on his birthday, and it is likely their biggest and most anticipated event. I got there 10 minutes before the doors opened and still had to fight for standing room.
The bill featured an impressive 17 acts and over 4 hours of music. I spent the first half squatting in the aisle over my bike helmet, huddled with other eager listeners. Next to me was an adorable 3 year old girl who isn't exactly familiar with Tom Waits, but knows for sure that it isn't "boring music," and was eager to dance along to even the most cacophonous renditions of his songs.
And the show did not start quietly. To kick things off we heard "Rain Dogs" complete with looped tracks of ratchets ratcheting, pot lids clanging and a number of other noisy noises. The effect was, well, effective. The first half ended with a stellar set by the Children of Celebrities, who skillfully applied their musical talents to Tom Waits' music. In between we heard piano ballads, rock and roll raging, country crooning and spoken word.
The second half was even more impressive than the first. Deserving special mention is the set performed by Jeff Andrew. He paid an emotional and heartfelt tribute to musician, poet and friend Tempest who was recently murdered on Hornby Island. He reminded us that we can only confront death head on, and sang "How's It Gonna End" and "Make It Rain," the latter a tribute to Tempest's strong connection to weather and storm.
The Outspoken Wordsmiths delivered a sweet set of beat box energy, including "Chocolate Dumpster," a twist on Waits' "Chocolate Jesus," paying homage to the wealth that can be found just by digging through the trash.
Aside from a raucous all-hands-on-deck sing along of "Come On Up To The House," C.R. Avery closed the night. He performed his first song in his signature solo beat box hip hop harmonica style, and ended by tinkering on the piano while telling the story of how he ended up playing with Tom Waits at a concert in Berlin. The set was awesome, but far too short.
The whole night was emceed by Wes Borg, who had a great comedic sense and was quick to jump into any performance with a rousing clarinet solo or back up vocals.
Over the course of the night we heard several songs more than once. The first time it happened the performer apologized in advance. But for me, the repeats were some of the most interesting moments of the evening. It exposed the incredible variety of styles espoused by the different performers. It showed the great skill with which the artists took Waits' songs and made them irrefutably their own.
Leading up to the event, my one anxiety was that it might have a bit of a "boys club" feel to it - who's got a more manly sound than Tom Waits, right? I was totally wrong. Women featured prominently both as leading ladies and back up musicians, and equaled the men in terms of talent and performance quality. We saw an a capella burlesque performance of "I'm Your Late Night Evening Prostitute" by a women with a stunning voice. Solstice Cafe employee Freya did a set with an accordion. She suffered a bout of nerves but the audience was behind her 100% and she had us hanging on to her every note. Jenny Ritter also delivered an amazing performance with her guitar and some help from her friend Bear. The list could easily go on.
The Tom Waits experience, at its core, is not gendered - it's about being broken. And that night at the Solstice was about allowing ourselves to feel like the broken, hurting, sloppy, riff-raff outsiders we all are. It was about strangers and friends coming together and letting each other in and letting it all out and feeling just a little bit better in our togetherness.
It's not boring music.
Post Script:
The 2004 album "Real Gone" got an inordinate number of shout outs that night, and I was able to track down a copy at the library today. I got home in the bright afternoon and threw it in the boom box. I had an immediate and visceral reaction and had to turn it off - only then did I remember Jeff Andrew's warning that "Real Gone" is the only Tom Waits album that can be listened to exclusively at night. It is now midnight and the album has spun one and a half times through. It has greatly aided the catharsis of writing this post, and I can't wait to hear it while driving some lonely highway on a sleepless road trip.
