I'm not sure I've ever heard Foreign Affairs, save one or two songs. It's one no one ever talks about.

I'm not sure I've ever heard Foreign Affairs, save one or two songs. It's one no one ever talks about.

Two welcome changes in style made Blue Valentine a fresh listening experience for Tom Waits fans. First, Waits alters the instrumentation, bringing in electric guitar and keyboards and largely dispensing with the strings for a more blues-oriented, hard-edged sound. Second, though his world view remains fixed on the lowlifes of the late night, he expands beyond the musings of the barstool philosopher who previously had acted as the first-person character of most of his songs. When Waits does use the first-person, it's to write a "Christmas Card From a Hooker in Minneapolis," not the figure most listeners had associated with the singer himself. The result is a broadening of subject matter, a narrative discipline that makes most of the tunes story songs, and a coherent framing for Waits' typically colorful and intriguing imagery. These are not radical reinventions, but Waits had followed such a rigidly stylized approach on his previous albums that for anyone who had followed him so far, the course correction was big news.

On my third play of Blue Valentine and I'd have to say that this album might be my favourite by Waits yet, heavy on what I've enjoy thus far and light on what I haven't, mixing up the musical styles a bit more. I could probably listen to $29.00 all damn day.

Heartattack and Vine, Tom Waits' first album in two years and his last of seven for Asylum Records, is a transitional album, with tracks like the rhythm-heavy title song and "'Til the Money Runs Out" foreshadowing the sonic experiments of the Island albums, while piano-with-orchestra tracks like "Saving All My Love for You" and "On the Nickel" (written as a motion-picture title tune) hark back to Waits' Randy Newman-influenced early days. It is just as well that Waits never entirely gave up on the ballad material; "Jersey Girl," a Drifters-style song, is a winner, and it was appropriated by Bruce Springsteen on his 1981 tour. Also, at least at this point, the rougher tunes all tended to sound the same.

I'm so-so with Heartattack and Vine. I don't dislike it, but for some reason it has just never really reached out and grabbed me like some of his other work.

I will consider it a great thing that you will get to Swordfishtrombones on a Saturday.

Curious to see how it comes across for you, especially after listening all in order like this.

Between the release of Heartattack and Vine in 1980 and Swordfishtrombones in 1983, Tom Waits got rid of his manager, his producer, and his record company. And he drastically altered a musical approach that had become as dependable as it was unexciting. Swordfishtrombones has none of the strings and much less of the piano work that Waits' previous albums had employed; instead, the dominant sounds on the record were low-pitched horns, bass instruments, and percussion, set in spare, close-miked arrangements (most of them by Waits) that sometimes were better described as "soundscapes." Lyrically, Waits' tales of the drunken and the lovelorn have been replaced by surreal accounts of people who burned down their homes and of Australian towns bypassed by the railroad -- a world (not just a neighborhood) of misfits now have his attention. The music can be primitive, moving to odd time signatures, while Waits alternately howls and wheezes in his gravelly bass voice. He seems to have moved on from Hoagy Carmichael and Louis Armstrong to Kurt Weill and Howlin' Wolf (as impersonated by Captain Beefheart). Waits seems to have had trouble interesting a record label in the album, which was cut 13 months before it was released, but when it appeared, rock critics predictably raved: after all, it sounded weird and it didn't have a chance of selling. Actually, it did make the bottom of the best-seller charts, like most of Waits' albums, and now that he was with a label based in Europe, even charted there. Artistically, Swordfishtrombones marked an evolution of which Waits had not seemed capable (though there were hints of this sound on his last two Asylum albums), and in career terms it reinvented him.

Meh, it's a mood piece to go with a stylized movie. Worthwhile listen for a completist and I think we're trying to listen to his full studio output, right?

Pretty sure the number on the button that corresponds with Swordfishtrombones in the *Nowhere Bar's jukebox is worn off.

* a bar in Athens,GA where shady shit went and goes down and lines of coke were done off piss and beer stained toilets while smoke from Camel Lights permeated your every pore.