The first album in the brilliant trilogy also including Rain Dogs and Franks Wild Years, Swordfishtrombones is an instant classic. The rasp in Mr. Waits' voice has been described as a cup of razor blades followed by a bottle of scotch and a pack of cigarettes. Not to mention the sheer tragedy that flows within him as he belts into the microphone. Like a lonely cat in a November night, I picture him shuffling his feet with his collar up past an old lamp post just about to burn out. Rain and soot and alchohol soak the streets behind him as he walks aimlessly through the night and into the dreams of anyone not careful enough to lock their windows before they drift off to sleep.
Swordfishtrombones (1983)
http://www.sendspace.com/file/ir5c5c
No comments:
Post a Comment