I'm Gonna Take This With Me.

I'm going to be facetious now.

So brace yourself.

I was thinking - what with all the doom and gloom that's currently around - wouldn't it be nice if I could write a post that would just raise a smile and... and 'accentuate the positive' and generally make you want to go and hug the cat.

(Go, go, hug him... hug him real tight... squeeeeeeeezzzze.)

But, as I was striving for this unerringly happy post, there was only one question that kept jumping into my head. It wouldn't go away.

So the 'happy post' turns out to be just a question.

"What song would I like to have played at my funeral?"

I know, I know, sorry, it's not exactly the cheeriest thing ever, is it? But it's what I was thinking of and I couldn't shake it off. So I'll play you the song I'd like to have played at my funeral down at the bottom.

But this all made me wonder, what tune/song would you like played at yours. Really, it did.

Now, you see, the post becomes almost salvageable. Granted, it may never be the happy-go-lucky recession-beater that I was aiming for but, at worst, we may yet achieve a little public service blogging here.

See, if you tell me what tune you want at your send-off, and then I hear that you died, I can contact the next of kin with the information.

That'd be kind of good, wouldn't it?

Perhaps you could do the same for me? I have a post prepared that's linked to my pulse so, thirty minutes after it stops, the post will come on the blog and announce my untimely... etc. Then, upon reading it, you all could email and remind my family about the song I want played.

Okay?

Now, you may well ask, why doesn't the silly fecker just name the song in this epic pulse-related blog-post of his? Simple answer. That would be too easy, wouldn't it?

Anyway, here's my current funereal music. This may change as I get older and whither further, as I fully expect to. I'll keep you posted, literally.

Oh, and this song is my choice. Right? You go and get your own. Then come tell me all about it. I'd love to hear.

At least it's a change from the 'Seven Odd Things' meme, isn't it?

Okay. Are we happy yet?

Any Aussie Got a Photo of Tom Waits and Me?

On a cold week-night evening in October 1985 I stood outside the stage door of the Dominion Theatre in London and waited for Tom Waits to come out.

I had never done that before for anyone and am fairly sure I will never do it again.

Tom had played a series of shows in The Dominion - I had been to see him the night before with a bunch of people and was so blown away that I was tempted to drive back into the City Centre to wait a while and just tell him how good it was.

So I did.

Through the stage door, I could hear the end of the show. Tom played three encores, one more than the night before. The closing song was 'Blue Valentines'.

I wished I was inside for that.



Perhaps because it was the last night of his London stint, it was well over an hour-and-a-half before Tom and his band came out. The time was passed quickly by chatting to the many people who went in and came out of the stage door to pay their respects - among them Elvis Costello and Bono.

When Tom finally appeared, there was only me and a young Australian couple left outside the door. I told Tom that I thought the show was fantastic - he said, "Aw gee, thanks," and he Autographed my Rain Dogs album. He told me he was on his way To Newcastle to do some songs for something called 'The Toob' (The Tube with Jools Holland and Paula Yates - 1982-1987) and sure enough he was on it two days later on Channel 4.

It was great to meet him, I'm glad I took the trouble.

Here's the thing...

The Australian guy said, "You gotta get a picture" so me and Tom stood in together and this guy took our photograph.

After Tom had left, I gave the guy my address and made him promise he would send the picture on.

Guess what?

I never got it... guess what else?

I would quite like it.

So if you happen to be passing through this blog and you think you might be that Australian Guy from that night in 1985, could you check your photo album and maybe, if you happen to see me in there, give me a shout.

Thanks!

PS - Of course I've seen Tom quite a few times, most recently this year in Dublin, review here.

Looking For The Heart of Friday Night - Tom Waits in The Phoenix Park, Dublin, August 1st 2008

(The photos by John O'Reilly, my super bro-in-law, are from the concert)

So Johnny Depp and me went to see Tom Waits up in 'The Park' last Friday night.

Okay, maybe I wasn't actually sitting beside Johnny. Maybe I didn't even know he was there until I read it in the gossip column the day after.

That doesn't matter.

I wouldn't have cared even if he was right next to me.

For me, the biggest star in the world was right up there on the stage, stomping around in his monstrous work boots, grunting and growling, conducting us, the audience, as if we were a three thousand strong, slightly errant, symphony orchestra.

Tom Waits has been a feature of my life ever since my brother brought home the 'Blue Valentine' album back in '78. The deal was sealed when I went, alone, to see him in Dublin's Olympia Theatre in 1981. My expectations did not go much beyond him growling out a few of my favorite tunes. Instead I was treated to a show of such theatricality, raconteur ism, and wit that it has never since been topped.

I went on to see him two times more, met him once (see this earlier post). His lyrical creativity and uncompromising artistic vision has brought me right along with him through his every musical metamorphosis, from dead-beat-poet through manic preacher to Godot-like-troubadour-in-limbo.

All very well, Kenneth, but what was the bloody concert like?

Sorry...  Man, it rocked!

Tom's had some strict anti-touting ticket rules - I needed my passport to get in. This meant that each and every one of the three thousand anxious folk inside that huge circus tent in the park had long planned-on and anticipated being there.

Nobody within had casually picked up a twice-the-price ticket on an impulse to see that weird man inside the big top. As a result, the air of genuine pre-show excitement was utterly palpable.

On a huge stage decorated with outlandishly dated sound equipment, Tom's super-band punctually emerged 30 minutes late. Tom arranged himself on a raised circular ornately decorated dais in the centre of the stage and let rip.

You can get the set list on numerous other sites. Tom plays a different one every night. Some set pieces remain from night to night but, beyond that, you are in the hands of the Gods as to where the old master will choose to take you.

I knew almost every song but, oddly enough, it was the few that I didn't know that delighted me the most. "I'll Shoot The Moon" from "The Black Rider" being one example.

The set-list favoured much of his newer material which will doubtless have pissed-off some of those Irish fans who think he hasn't written anything since 'Closing Time' back in 1973.

In the middle, though, he sat at the piano and waltzed us through Mathilda (Tom Traubert's Blues) and even strapped on the guitar to sublimely perform 'Blue Valentine'. How anyone could feel cheated of classics at that point, I do not know.

Tom Waits hides his true self behind a highly effective smoke screen of quirky image, low-life-nostalgia and wry-off-beat-humour. In interviews, he appears to lie copiously and unapologetically and, although these are enjoyable events, very little of substance is ever revealed.

In an interview with Mick Brown, back in 2005, Tom dropped his shield momentarily to say,

"The fact is that everybody who starts doing this to a certain extent develops some kind of persona or image in order to survive... the whole thing's an act, nobody would ever really show you who they are, nobody would dare do that..."

My point with this is simple, although Tom hides himself successfully in his persona(s), I feel that he cannot help but reveal himself in his songs. The trick is to identify which of his songs are actually the revealing ones. For me, something like "Take it With Me When I Go" from "Mule Variations" is a highly personal reflection on life and love.

But I could so easily be wrong.

As Tom was up there stomping around, kicking up copious clouds of dust on the stage on Friday evening, I imagined I intuited lots of things from him. I sensed his relief to be at the last night of a grueling tour. I sensed pride in having his sons support him on the stage and bearing witness to their father unleashed in his natural element.

But wasn't I really just projecting some of my own stuff up there onto Tom? If I pick the song(s) in which he reveals himself, isn't it true that I really only succeed in revealing myself?

Therein lies the magic of the master Vaudevillian, to hold the proverbial mirror up for ourselves to look in. If that's what happened on Friday last, I kind of liked what looked back.

And finally, what makes last Friday one of my greatest ever concert-expeditions is simply this:

From up there on the stage right down to my cramped seat in Row Q, Tom succeeded in connecting with me.

My usual habit of being over-interested/annoyed at every little distraction going on around me was completely shelved as Tom told me his stories and sang me his songs.

 At times it was just me and him in that packed tent.

I see this as being yet another part of his genius. I also compliment myself modestly for my good disposition on the evening.

We made a great team on the night, Tom and me.

And Johnny made three.