Didn't know.

Looked them up after you posted and I want to check those out.

Tom would you come to south america so i can retire from live shows? thanks.

Yeah, I might retire from live shows if I ever get to see Tom Waits live. That would be a pretty fantastic swan song.

You didn't see him in the Teatro Alvear when he came for his "master class" in 2007?

I would've preferred a concert, but seeing him play "You Can Never Hold Back Spring" just a few feet away from me was magical.

I think probably more than any other artist Tom Waits is something you need to be initiated into. He is so unlike anyone else, and so easy to ignore if you don't make the effort to get inside the music, that it is pretty self selecting. the only people capable of even talking about him already love him.

Hell Broke Luce randomly came on my ipod this weekend when i was with a friend. We share similar musical tastes (not identical, but similar) and his response was 'is this song a joke'?

Similar thing happened to me at work. A co-worker kept laughing at; couldn't understand that it was serious.

The family is finally getting together to spread my dad's ashes in his hometown next week. There is gonna be a proper ceremony. The 3 kids are picking songs to be played. My other siblings have decided that uplifting is the way to go. I went with Dirt In The Ground. My dad would have loved it.

Condolences... and awesome; will most likely never say or type that again.

Saw Martin Sexton at City Winery last night. Great fucking show. But in the middle of Diner he started singing like Tom Waits. Then he said he was singing like that because he'd been listening to Tom Waits all week while traveling. Totally unexpected random reference. But it made me like Sexton even more. If that's possible.

Another unexpected reference: Last week on the Nerdist podcast, Nick Offerman (Ron Swanson from Parks & Rec) said he had a playlist of hundreds of Tom Waits songs he listens to constantly. Makes complete sense somehow.

City Winery is a cool place to catch a show. Saw Simone Felice there not too long ago, who covered Ol' '55 in his set.

It was the second time I'd been there for a show. It's a really great space. The GM there is an old friend of my wife. He told us that usually people won't shut up and it ruins the concerts. I've been really lucky, I guess. Both Richard Thompson and Martin Sexton had super respectful audiences. Those people were really into the respective acts.

I want to go back to New York.

City Winery definitely gets a wide range of shows. Was supposed to see Pat McGee there but was totally tanked after a week of work... and of course David Duchovny guests during the opener so I was kicking myself pretty hard in the ass the next few days.



I take the train to work and always toy with the possibility of not making my stop and just heading to the city.

Come on up to the house, brotha.

Amazing. I hate every american who was there and though " who is that guy?"

Earlier today, I was personally selected to receive the most amazing mystery e-mail ever witnessed by man. It’s from an address that I don’t recognize, that I cannot find anywhere in my mailbox history, but which doesn’t appear to be junkmail in nature.

It says only this:

Actually, the only stuff I laughed at was the Tom Waits.

I keep reading and rereading that sentence, each time finding new and glorious cause for amazement. It’s as though a universe's worth of thick, swirling possibility was carefully packed into the most calculated assemblage of dissonant words ever gathered to a single locale. And while I fear a vaguely magical power at work (I don’t dare read it aloud), I also sense great craft and care. “For sale, baby shoes, never worn?” Forget it. Actually, the only stuff I laughed at was the Tom Waits.

Or, perhaps…

Actually, the only stuff I laughed at was the Tom Waits.
Actually, the only stuff I laughed at was the Tom Waits.
Actually, the only stuff I laughed at was the Tom Waits.
Actually, the only stuff I laughed at was the Tom Waits.

It’s impossible to know intended inflection on that level, I suppose. This is the price we pay for words on a page. Still, as I roll the tightly packed joint that is this swelling jumble, I have to wonder…can the knotted thread that I witness here ever truly be unraveled? Do I dare risk to try? It seems just this side of possible that I have received a message from the future...or the chiseled reflection that will someday grace my own tombstone. If this is the case, then why was I meant to see it? And why now?

More terrifyingly: am I expected to respond? And, if so…with what?

More than anything else, as the long minutes have continued to roll by I find that I have begun to know a great and unending fear....fear for those not yet brought into this world. Fear for those long since passed. Fear that exponentiates outward, encompassing every single one and all things.

Fear because, somewhere out there among the great rolling hills and vast expansive plains, something unspeakable has awoken.

And actually, the only stuff it laughed at was the Tom Waits.