Dublin Opinion

On this first concert of the European leg of the tour, Tom was the flavour of the day in the local Basque newspaper. I mean, ‘Txatar soinuen biltzailea’ is probably fair comment, but does anyone read Euskadi?

About four years ago I was standing on a beach at the end of the world (no really, I was - it was the Straits of Magellan) having one of those music-nerd conversations about who, of all the music greats still living, you would pay top dollar to see, just one time. It was a short conversation, beginning and ending with Mike and myself plumbing for Tom Waits. We moved on to talk of other things.

Slow forward to a different beach, this time at San Sebastian (or Donostia, if you prefer) on the Basque coast, and I’m in the crowd outside the Auditorio Kursaal - an award-winning concert hall right on the surfing beach in this beautiful Belle Epoch city. At night when it’s all lit up from inside it’s like two giant cubic paper lanterns, glowing a soft orange all across the beachfront. Hallowe’en orange, to steal a phrase.

After all the talk of expensive ticket prices and cumbersome ticket-purchasing arrangements, in the end they came from far more that 500 miles just to see his halo - apart from expected theatre crowd who would have been there for any big show, there was a larger core of Spanish and Basque Waits fans and a sizable contingent of the Ryanair generation, ourselves included. Sure would have been lonesome if nobody had of showed up, but there was never any fear of that. I didn’t see an empty seat in the 2,000-seater auditorium, so I guess the ticketing arrangements worked out alright.

When he came on the stage, boy was his halo resplendent. Ol’ Tom shuffled on a little bit late like he’d missed his bus, all hobo-chic and spindly legs, before stomping into ‘Lucinda’ and segueing into ‘Ain’t Goin’ Down To The Well No More’ which is how he’d started most of the US gigs, apparently. His little platform (more of a drum riser, really) in the middle of the stage was covered with some kind of dust, which the foot-stomping threw up into clouds during the early numbers. He doesn’t seem a tall man, but his legs seem long, and when he’s bending his limbs all about, he looks like nothing so much as a gnarly old oak tree, shaped by the wind. All that circus and carnival obsession spills over into a performer who knows how to hold a crowd. The band, meanwhile, sounded like it had been playing together for years in skuzzy jazz clubs, before falling under the spell of a messianic tramp and taken away to wander the world.

It didn’t take long for him to move right into the religious material with ‘Way Down In The Hole’ and ‘Chocolate Jesus’ broken in the middle with a secular sidetrip into ‘Falling Down’ - a personal favourite taking me way, way back to college days.

At the end of ‘Misery’s The River Of The World’ (a highlight), he moved over to the piano to throw off a few numbers, almost casually, as if he were taking a break from the stomping and bullhorn shouting. On the ivories he played ‘On The Nickel;’ ‘Johnsburg, Illinois;’ ‘Tango Til They’re Sore;’ and ‘Innocent When You Dream.’ Ahead of the gig I’d tried to avoid the ‘what songs do you want to hear?’ conversation, because with a canon reaching back to the 70s, you’re unlikely to hear your ideal set list. ‘Johnsburg, Illinois’ was one of the little piano ditties I wouldn’t have expected to hear, so short and almost frivolous is it that it hardly seems a song, more of something to do while the band are retuning. It’s also one of my favourites, and I have to admit it brought a lump to my throat to hear it live. As they say, worth the price of admission alone.

I managed to get a short video of one song, but apologies for the poor quality. I hadn’t any plans to sneak a video clip and had no clue what I was doing, never having pirated a live gig before, but it seemed worth trying. The clip is badly focussed, jerky, and cuts out early. It does, however, come together somewhat for the middle section and gives a taste of what to expect in the Phoenix Park at the end of the month. It’s Hoist That Rag; something for my little lady…

One of the centrepieces of the gig has to have been ‘Eyeball Kid’ in the encore, featuring Tom’s only costume-change of the evening. He switched hats - his regular ‘Sunday going to church’ trademark bowler gave way to a more circus-appropriate mirrored version, momentarily casting the spotlight back on the crowd.

It’s hard to see a pattern in what he played - lots of the old stuff (‘Cold Cold Ground’ and ‘Singapore’ for example) and plenty from the newer albums (such as ‘Black Market Baby’ and ‘All The World Is Green’). Obviously there was lots missing - for example I would have loved to hear ‘16 Shells’ or ‘Time’ and there was no ‘Step Right Up’ - nothing for the little lady). There was a minimum of the sideshow crier shtick, but what’s the man to do? With not a weak spot in a 25-song set, he could have played blinding tunes all night without running out of material.

You can check out full set list and tour news over on the Eyeball Kid’s blog or type ‘Tom Waits San Sebastian’ into YouTube to hear more.

If you’re going to any of the Dublin gigs, enjoy…