Quando Tom Waits esce, nel 1984, con "Swordfishtrombones", dà una radicale svolta alla sua carriera: è il disco capolavoro, naturale evoluizione di un percorso artistico già straordinario, momento culminante e apparentemente irripetibile della sua creatività. E invece, un anno dopo, esce "Rain Dogs"; il disco così bello e riuscito che non credi possa esistere fin quando non lo hai ascoltato, il disco che ad un solo anno dal suo già ingombrante predecessore ti fa stravolgere nuovamente le prospettive su questo meraviglioso chansonier, che di dischi belli comunque ne aveva già prodotti. E allora pensi: “Bhè, in effetti il capolavoro è questo.”
Tom Waits non è un personaggio facile, anzi. È uno di quelli che si amano o si odiano, senza vie di mezzo, perchè talmente intenso che indifferente non può lasciarti. È la perfetta incarnazione della figura maledetta e irrequieta, il genio che vive in maniera sregolata tutto preso dalla sua arte e dalle sue idee; in effetti è come se Waits avesse trasformato la sua vita in musica. Una vita “vissuta dalla parte sbagliata” (come intitola una sua canzone in "Blue Valentine", “The Wrong Side Of The Road”), come Bukowsky, come Keruoc, come Miller. Tom Waits racconta storie di reietti, di emarginati, di senza tetto e alcolizzati: di tutti quelli che dal sogno americano sono stati esclusi. I Rain Dogs, appunto. Stilisticamente il disco è una commistione di generi sapientemente mescolati da Waits e la sua banda (ricordiamo uno per tutti il grandissimo chitarrista Marc Ribot), che danno vita ad un suono incredibilmente waitsiano, che a tratti suona blues, a tratti jazz, e tratti rock, sebbene le soluzioni formali non hanno a che fare con nessuno di questi generi.
Immancabili sono anche quei ritmi di marcette e fanfare già sentiti in "Swordfishtombones" e che Waits ama tanto. Il disco si apre con una tripletta subito formidabile: “Singapore”, “Clap Hands”, “Cemetery Polka”, che rivelano la passione di Waits per percussioni inusuali, tipo la marimba. Poi uno dei brani migliori del disco, “Jockey Full of Bourbon”, il brano che Jim Jarmusch scelse come title-track del suo film Down By Law, e che sintetizza magnificamente buona parte della poetica waitsiana: nel testo si parla di donne, pistole, treni, di uno che non si regge in piedi perché, appunto, “pieno di bourbon”. Dopo la meravigliosa danza sghemba di “Tango Till’ They’re Sore”, il blues viscerale di “Big Black Mariah”, brano in cui si parla del furgone cellulare che trasporta i detenuti in carcere, ti si attacca in testa e ci vorrà un bel pezzo prima che ti lasci. Ma in questo di disco c’è anche spazio per le ballate che hanno reso famoso Waits, pezzi che non ti aspetti possono venire fuori da uno che ha una voce da licantropo ubriaco, quella voce rugginosa che è da sempre il suo segno distintivo più importante e noto; ballate lente e toccanti come “Time”, oppure più rockeggianti e in perfetto stile americano come “Hang Down Your Head”, scritta insieme alla moglie Kathleen Brennan, la donna che è riuscita a domare Tom il randagio, oppure la lenta e ipnotica “Gun Street Girl” o la coinvolgente country rock “Downtown Train”. La title-track “Rain dogs” è il manifesto di questo disco: un’apertura inusuale d’organo lascia poi spazio al tipico incedere waitsiano, con un bellissimo testo che dipinge nostalgiche notti di eccessi.
C’è da dire che non sempre i testi di Waits sono di facile comprensione, anzi; spesso il cantautore di Pomona fa riferimento a fatti del tutto personali, come nella title-track in cui viene menzionato Tralee, un paesino dell’Irlanda in cui Tom e sua moglie sono stati per il viaggio di nozze, oppure esegue dei collage di filastrocche e canzoncine popolari, come nel caso di “Jockey Full Of Bourbon” . C’è spazio anche per un paio di intermezzi strumentali, immancabili da un certo punto in poi nella carriera del Nostro e specialmente nella cosiddetta “trilogia di Frank” composta da "Swordfishtrombones", "Rain Dogs" e "Frank’s Wild Years". “Walking Spanish” è un riuscitissimo jazz-blues, uno squarciato di vita in galera, di un detenuto che si appresta ad essere giustiziato. Il disco viene chiuso da un breve ma intensissimo brano, “Anywhere I Lay My Head”, dove Waits si produce in una nostalgica cantata che sembra eseguita da uno sguaiato ubriaco che sbraita alla luna tutto il disagio di un senzatetto: “Ovunque poggierò la mia testa quella sarà la mia casa” .
Questo è forse il disco veramente perfetto di Waits, senza passi falsi o sbavature, senza incertezze. È uno di quei dischi che possono cambiare la vita e che descrivere a parole serve a poco.
Elenco tracce testi e video
01 Singapore (02:45)
We sail tonight for Singapore,
we're all as mad as hatters here
I've fallen for a tawny Moor,
took off to the land of Nod
Drank with all the Chinamen,
walked the sewers of Paris
I danced along a colored wind,
dangled from a rope of sand
You must say goodbye to me
We sail tonight for Singapore,
don't fall asleep while you're ashore
Cross your heart and hope to die
when you hear the children cry
Let marrow bone and cleaver choose
while making feet for children shoes
Through the alley, back from hell,
when you hear that steeple bell
You must say goodbye to me
Wipe him down with gasoline
'til his arms are hard and mean
From now on boys this iron boat's your home
So heave away, boys
We sail tonight for Singapore,
take your blankets from the floor
Wash your mouth out by the door,
the whole town's made of iron ore
Every witness turns to steam,
they all become Italian dreams
Fill your pockets up with earth,
get yourself a dollar's worth
Away boys, away boys, heave away
The captain is a one-armed dwarf,
he's throwing dice along the wharf
In the land of the blind
the one-eyed man is king, so take this ring
We sail tonight for Singapore,
we're all as mad as hatters here
I've fallen for a tawny Moor,
took off to the land of Nod
Drank with all the Chinamen,
walked the sewers of Paris
I drank along a colored wind,
I dangled from a rope of sand
You must say goodbye to me
03 Cemetery Polka (01:46)
Uncle Vernon
Uncle Vernon
Independent as a
Hog on ice
He's a big shot down there
At the slaughterhouse
He plays accordion
For Mr. Weiss
Uncle Bittmore and
Uncle William
Made a
Million during
World War II
But they're tightwads
And they're
Cheap skates
And they'll never give a dime to you
Auntie Mame
Has gone
Insane
She lives in
The doorway of an old hotel
And the
Radio's playing opera and
All she ever says
Is go to Hell.
Uncle Violet
Flew as pilot
He said there
Ain't no pretty
Girls in France
Now he runs a
Tiny little
Bookie joint they say
He never
Keeps it in his pants
Uncle Bill
Will never leave a will
And the tumour is as
Big as an egg
He has a mistress
She's a Puerto Rican
And I heard she has
A wooden leg.
Uncle Phil
Can't live without his pills
He has emphysema and
He's almost blind
And we must find out
Where the money is
Get it now
Before he loses his mind
04 Jockey Full of Bourbon (02:47)
Edna Million in a drop dead suit
Dutch Pink on a downtown train
Two-dollar pistol but the gun won't shoot
I'm in the corner on the pouring rain
Sixteen men on a dead man's chest
And I've been drinking from a broken cup
Two pairs of pants and a mohair vest
I'm full of bourbon, I can't stand up
Hey little bird, fly away home
Your house is on fire, children are alone
Hey little bird, fly away home
Your house is on fire, your children are alone
Schiffer broke a bottle on Morgan's head
And I'm stepping on the devil's tail
Across the stripes of a full moon's head
And through the bars of a Cuban jail
Bloody fingers on a purple knife
Flamingo drinking from a cocktail glass
I'm on the lawn with someone else's wife
Admire the view from up on top of the mast
Hey little bird, fly away home
House is on fire, children are alone
Hey little bird, fly away home
House is on fire, your children are alone
I said hey little bird, fly away home
Your house is on fire, your children are alone
Hey little bird, fly away home
House is on fire, your children are alone
Yellow sheets on a Hong Kong bed
Stazybo horn and a Slingerland ride
"To the carnival" is what she said
A hundred dollars makes it dark inside
Edna Million in a drop dead suit
Dutch Pink on a downtown train
Two-dollar pistol but the gun won't shoot
I'm in the corner on the pouring rain
Hey little bird, fly away home
Your house is on fire, your children are alone
Hey little bird, fly away home
Your house is on fire, your children are alone
09 Time (03:56)
Well, the smart money's on Harlow
and the moon is in the street
the shadow boys are breaking all the laws
and you're east of East St. Louis
and the wind is making speeches
and the rain sounds like a round of applause
Napoleon is weeping in the Carnival saloon
his invisible fiance is in the mirror
the band is going home
it's raining hammers, it's raining nails
yes, it's true, there's nothing left for him down here
And it's Time Time Time
And it's Time Time Time
And it's Time Time Time
that you love
And it's Time Time Time
And they all pretend they're orphans
and their memory's like a train
you can see it getting smaller as it pulls away
and the things you can't remember
tell the things you can't forget that
history puts a saint in every dream
Well she said she'd stick around
until the bandages came off
but these mamas boys just didn't know when to quit
and Matilda asks the sailors are those dreams
or are those prayers
so just close your eyes, son
and this won't hurt a bit
And it's Time Time Time
And it's Time Time Time
And it's Time Time Time
that you love
And it's Time Time Time
Well, things are pretty lousy for a calendar girl
the boys just dive right off the cars
and splash into the street
and when she's on a roll she pulls a razor
from her boot and a thousand
pigeons fall around her feet
so put a candle in the window
and a kiss upon his lips
till the dish outside the window fills with rain
just like a stranger with the weeds in your heart
and pay the fiddler off till I come back again
And it's Time Time Time
And it's Time Time Time
And it's Time Time Time
that you love
And it's Time Time Time
12 9th & Hennepin (01:56)
Well it's 9th and Hennepin
And all the donuts have
Names that sound like prostitutes
And the moon's teeth marks are
On the sky like a tarp thrown over all this
And the broken umbrellas like
Dead birds and the steam
Comes out of the grill like
The whole goddamned town is ready to blow.
And the bricks are all scarred with jailhouse tattoos
And everyone is behaving like dogs.
And the horses are coming down Violin Road
And Dutch is dead on his feet
And the rooms all smell like diesel
And you take on the
Dreams of the ones who have slept here.
And I'm lost in the window
I hide on the stairway
I hang in the curtain
I sleep in your hat
And no one brings anything
Small into a bar around here.
They all started out with bad directions
And the girls behind the counter has a tattooed tear,
One for every year he's away she said, such
A crumbling beauty, but there's
Nothing wrong with her that
$100 won't fix, she has that razor sadness
That only gets worse
With the clang and the thunder of the
Southern Pacific going by
As the clock ticks out like a dripping faucet
Till you're full of rag water and bitters and blue ruin
And you spill out
Over the side to anyone who'll listen
And I've seen it
All through the yellow windows
Of the evening train.
17 Downtown Train (03:53)
Outside another yellow moon
punched a hole in the nighttime, yes
I climb through the window and down the street
shining like a new dime
the downtown trains are full with all those Brooklyn girls
they try so hard to break out of their little worlds
You wave your hand and they scatter like crows
they have nothing that will ever capture your heart
theyr'e just thorns without the rose
be careful of them in the dark
oh if I was the one
you chose to be your only one
oh baby can't you hear me now
Will I see you tonight
on a downtown train
every night is just the same
you leave me lonely now
I know your window and I know it's late
I know your stairs and your doorway
I walk down your street and past your gate
I stand by the light at the four way
you watch them as they fall
they all have heart attacks
they stay at the carnival
but they'll never win you back
Will I see you tonight
on a downtown train
every night is just the same
you leave me lonely now
Will I see you tonight on a downtown train
where every night is just the same you leave me lonely
will I see you tonight on a downtown train
all of my dreams just fall like rain
all upon a downtown train
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Altre recensioni
Di StefanoHab
La voce di tutti i barboni del mondo, la voce di quei cani che, sorpresi dal temporale, non sanno più come tornare a casa... Rain Dogs, appunto.
Da ascoltare, assimilare, capire e amare: e ve lo dice un metallaro.
