I Can See You - by Paddy Summerfield c. 1986
Showing posts with label Don's Tunes. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Don's Tunes. Show all posts

Thursday, September 11, 2025

Leon Russell - Don’s Tunes (JazzWax) by Marc Myers


I am ashamed to say I don’t know much Russell apart from appreciating him in Mad Dog’s and Englishmen the double Joe Cocker album and appearances and his presence during The Concert for Bangladesh . . . he didn’t do well enough in the UK maybe he didn’t travel so well given his disability and most folks don’t know him very well at all!
LEGEND!

"At birth, Leon Russell's doctor tugged too hard during delivery and damaged two of his vertebrae. As a result, his right side has always been a bit numb and his feet are flat—a result of .. elongated bones in his feet that have stretched the arches flat. Long story short, he needs a cane for short distances and a motorized wheelchair for long ones. All of this made him an introverted kid, so he found a friend in the piano and developed a sharp ear.

By 14, Leon was performing at local clubs near Tulsa and playing in his local church. When he got home late each night, he listened to the only radio station his crystal set would pick up—one that was spinning R&B and Pentecostal gospel records.

Here's where Leon's career gets really interesting. He toured with Jerry Lee Lewis from 1960 to 1962 as the Killer's warm-up pianist while Leon's band backed Jerry Lee. In Los Angeles in '62, Leon played demos for Jackie DeShannon, who in turn played them for Jack Nitzsche, who brought him into recording sessions with Phil Spector. Leon is on the Ronettes' Be My Baby and other Wall of Sound recording sessions.

For the next six years, Leon was a member of the famed Wrecking Crew group of studio musicians who backed everyone from the Beach Boys to Frank Sinatra. He also did quite a bit of songwriting and arranging for pop-rock acts, including Gary Lewis. Leon told me arranges like Don Costa used to leave his parts blank and tell him to play jazz, blues, honky-tonk and other styles for those measures. No notes were needed. Leon also told me that his sluggish right side forced him to think ahead about what he planned to play and if it was going to be too much, he'd find another way around it.

In 1969, he built his own recording studio, produced Joe Cocker's second album and became musical director of Cocker's 1970 Mad Dogs & Englishmen tour, which he modeled after rock and roll revue shows he used to see as a kid. By 1976, Leon wrote quite a few hit songs, including Tight Rope, A Song for You, Superstar and This Masquerade. Over the years, Leon has recorded authoritative albums in almost every genre of American popular music, including soul, gospel, rock, bluegrass, Songbook, country and even disco."

Source: JazzWax by Marc Myers 
Photo by David McClister

Don's Tunes



Joe Cocker - Mad Dogs & Englishmen - With A Little Help From My Friends

Thursday, September 04, 2025

Susan Tedeschi | Don’s Tunes

 

📸
Jeff Bender

Susan Tedeschi: “When I was little, my dad would play me Lightnin’ Hopkins and Mississippi John Hurt, a lot of that country folk-blues kinda vibe. And I liked it, but it wasn’t my main thing. But then when I graduated college, I had some friends running a blues jam and they asked me to come sing.

"So I started diving into the record stores and bought all these records by T-Bone Walker, Big Mama Thornton, Koko Taylor, Johnny ‘Guitar’ Watson. That’s when I started diving into the blues on a massive level. They just really got me hooked.
“And they also got me playing electric guitar: I didn’t really play anything other than acoustic until I started getting into the blues. It was an exciting time. That music was soulful and inspiring, and I was really angry that growing up, we didn’t have that kind of music on the radio.
"But I’ve realised since that what we’re spoon-fed on radio is kinda all the baloney, the weakest of the lot. So you have to search out the really great stuff, the really soulful stuff. People can relate to the blues. It moves them. It can help to heal you. I think the blues can be very beneficial on a medicinal level.”

Personally I prefer her work to her husbands but hey, whatcha gonna do! She sings beautifully and plays better to (IMHO) . . . . . . oh and she’s better looking!

Susan Tedeschi "It Hurt So Bad” [Recorded at KFOG's KaBoom 5/10/2009]



P.S. some poor deluded soul on Flickennabokk stated (more than once) that this photo is AI generated! It isn’t! and perhaps they would care to check out the superb Jeff Bender here go on ask him! I dares ya!

Friday, August 08, 2025

Keef on Guitar!

Keith Richards on playing the Guitar; Electric vs Acoustic

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Keith Richards: When in doubt, if something doesn’t sound right, just brush on an acoustic guitar and see what happens. What it does, if you’re recording a band, is fill the air between the cymbals and all the electric instruments. It’s like a wash in painting. Just a magical thing. If something sounds a little dry or heavy or tight, put on an acoustic, or maybe just a few notes of piano—another acoustic instrument. Somehow it will just add that extra glue.
As you’ve noticed, I found that out very early on. I don’t have any electric guitar at home, or an amp. I never play electric guitar at home. I play acoustic all the time. What I do know about the guitar is, if all you play is electric, you’re not just playing guitar, you're playing electricity. You get used to the tricks. The extra sustain and all. Which is fine. You need to know that for when you need that kind of stuff. But you can become over reliant on that.
When you go to an acoustic guitar, those tricks don’t work. That little round hole and that bit of wood—that’s the Truth. That’s how long a note will sustain. So when you go back to electric, you find yourself a little more precise. You should always keep an acoustic going, and work things out on that.
Alan di Perna / Reverb Interview
Photo by Bent Rej

Saturday, August 02, 2025

Mississippi John Hurt | Don's Tunes

 

Now I may have mentioned that my dear brother Steve introduced me to a lot of music largely from America and Mississippi John was one of those ( blues men and country pickers too, Doc Watson this means you!) but John Hurt holds a special place in my heart as soon as I heard the coffee song; Lovin’ Spoonful, plus I’m Satisfied, Make Me a Pallet on Your Floor and so on I was gone . . . loved that down home easy pickin' style

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World-renowned master of the acoustic guitar John Hurt, an important figure in the 1960s folk blues revival, spent most of his life doing farm work around Avalon in Carroll County and performing for parties and local gatherings. Hurt (1893-1966) only began to earn a living from music after he left Mississippi in 1963 to play at folk festivals, colleges, and coffeehouses. His first recordings, 78 rpm discs released in 1928-29, are regarded as classics of the blues genre.

Mississippi John Hurt’s delicate vocals, inventive fingerpicking on guitar, and warm personality endeared him to generations of music fans. Much of Hurt’s material predated the blues, and his gentle style provided a stark contrast to the typically harsh approaches of Delta musicians such as Son House and Charley Patton. According to a family bible, Hurt was born on July 3, 1893, in Teoc, several miles southwest of here. Other sources, including his tombstone at the St. James Cemetery in Avalon, have suggested dates ranging from 1892 to 1900. He began playing guitar around age nine. By twenty Hurt was performing at parties and square dances, sometimes with local white fiddler Willie Narmour, who had a contract with OKeh Records. Narmour recommended Hurt to OKeh, and in 1928 Hurt traveled to Memphis and New York to record. His OKeh songs included the murder ballads “Frankie,” “Stack O’Lee,” and “Louis Collins;” “Spike Driver Blues” (Hurt’s take on the John Henry legend); “Nobody’s Dirty Business” (a tune with roots in 19th century minstrelsy); religious songs; and Hurt’s own “Candy Man Blues” and “Got the Blues Can’t Be Satisfied.”
The recordings apparently had little effect on Hurt’s lifestyle, and he continued to play regularly for locals at house parties, picnics, night spots, work sheds, hunting lodges, and at the Valley Store at this site. His older brother Junious also sometimes played harmonica here. For most of his life Hurt worked as a farmer, but he also worked in a factory in Jackson and at a local gravel pit, and was employed as a laborer for Illinois Central Railroad and the Works Progress Administration. One of Hurt’s 1928 songs, “Avalon Blues,” later provided record collector Tom Hoskins with a clue to his whereabouts, and in 1963 Hoskins located Hurt in Avalon and arranged for him to move to Washington, D.C., where he cut several albums and recorded for the Library of Congress. Hurt subsequently became a popular and beloved performer on the folk music circuit. His many admirers included the folk-rock band the Lovin’ Spoonful, whose name was inspired by a line from Hurt’s “Coffee Blues.” In 1965 he moved to Grenada, Mississippi, where he died on November 2, 1966.
Photo: Daniel Kramer
content © Mississippi Blues Commission
Mississippi John Hurt, Philadelphia Folk Festival , 1965

Make Me A Pallet on Your Floor


Coffee Blues (that Lovin’ Spoonful)
I like to think introducing me to this song was my Steve’s way of educating me as to where the guys got their name from - I discovered the Lovin’ Spoonful 'for myself' and wanted something to call my own as he was busy playing Bob Dylan! 

Wednesday, July 09, 2025

Remembering Mitch Mitchell (9 July 1946 – 12 November 2008) | Don's Tunes

Ever a favourite drummer and thoroughly nice man from what I can tell and telling it is that Jimi would return time after time to Mitch as reliable as he was to play alongside the master . . . . 





To hear Mitchell tell it, his introduction to Hendrix was hardly the weighty stuff of drumming lore. It could've just as easily never happened. In the mid-'60s, while still in his teens, Mitchell established himself in London, where he worked as a sideman and session drummer for various bands, including Screaming Lord Sutch and Johnny Kidd and the Pirates.


"It was an early equivalent, I suppose, of the brat pack," he says. "There were a few young players in the studios at that time in London: Johnny Baldwin [John Paul Jones], Jimmy Page. There was this one street, Denmark Street, which was like London's Tin Pan Alley. All the music publishers were there, and consequently, most of them had their little recording studios in the basement, and you'd go and do demo tapes for whoever it was.


"A lot of times, you didn't know who the heck it was for, because we were recording backing tracks. It could be Tom Jones, it could be Petula Clark. I did some things for Ready, Steady, Go, which was a TV program. Basically, you would take on anything that moved, and if you were lucky enough, you progressed from doing Denmark Street demos to the proper Musicians' Union sessions, which paid us a little bit more."


In 1966, Mitchell was working with Georgie Fame and the Blue Flames, a well-known r&b act in Europe that had scored a respectable international hit the year before with "Yeh Yeh." Mitchell visited Fame's office every Monday to collect his weekly earnings, until one fateful payday when he was informed that the entire band was sacked. "My face sort of hit the floor, it was so unexpected," he recalls. "I literally walked down Charing Cross Road past all the music stores, back to Denmark Street - it was like going back to your roots, basically - and I went to a coffee bar just to think things over.


"Apart from being pretty devastated, my first thought was, 'I'm 19 years old. What am I going to do? What do I want to do?' I thought, the first thing, of trying to form some kind of band of my own. [Laughs] That lasted about five minutes. Actually, I did get a session that afternoon and that kind of brought a smile to my face. I thought, 'Well, okay. I have the choice of either going back to the studio or hopefully, if I'm lucky enough, I'll get gigs.' I did like the idea of working on the road with a band. It just seemed right."


Absolutely right, because Mitchell would soon receive a phone call from Chas Chandler, the former bassist with the Animals, who had since gone into band management and production. "I knew Chas vaguely from the Animals," Mitchell remembers, "and he said, 'Hey look, do you want to come and have a play with this guy I brought over [from America]?' I didn't realize it at the time, but of course, it was an audition.


"I went down to this little basement strip club in Soho and there was Jimi with a Fender Stratocaster upside-down with a kind of fake London Fog raincoat on, with his wild hair, and Noel Redding, who had been playing with Jimi I think for a couple of days, who I found out later was a guitarist, really, playing bass. I think there was a keyboard player, if memory serves me right, from Nero and the Gladiators. That was the idea first off, to maybe have a keyboard player.


"I just took down a tiny little Ludwig drum kit and said, 'What do you want?' basically. 'What are you looking for and what's it about?' I remember to this day, these tiny little amplifiers, and Hendrix was not happy with these little amplifiers so he was starting to kick them around. Like a lot of auditions, it really came down to the lowest common denominator. [We played] a bit of Chuck Berry, a bit of this, bit of that. I just threw in my Deutschmark, whatever you want to call it.


"He played a couple of things on the guitar that I found interesting - the style - and it kind of sparked me off. I used to get a lot of demos from, like, Curtis Mayfield, early Impressions things. And Hendrix was the first person I'd ever seen who could actually play that Curtis Mayfield style, which was unusual. So I named a Jerry Butler song, or an Impressions thing, and he knew it and could play it, and I thought, 'Oh, interesting.' I mean, I'd never been around that area of music before."


After jamming about 45 minutes, Mitchell packed up his gear and went home, feeling "intrigued." Two days later, he received another phone call from Chandler, who once again invited the drummer to jam with Hendrix, only this time, when he showed up, Mitchell found that there was no keyboard player - just the core power trio that would soon become internationally known as the Jimi Hendrix Experience.


At first, the three-piece lineup reminded Mitchell of Cream - a star-studded supergroup featuring Eric Clapton, Jack Bruce, and Ginger Baker - which had become the talk of the town around London. He remembers, "I came out with some facetious comment like, 'So, you want me to try to play like Ginger Baker or something?' Hendrix just goes, 'Oh, yeah, whatever you want, man.' But I did get the impression on that second time playing [together] that something was released. It was like a feeling of freedom. I don't know if it's a spiritual awakening. It was just a situation where I'd gone, 'Hey, you've never worked in a three-piece band in your life, ever, and there is something with this player that is very, very special.'"


Mitchell wasn't alone. There were plenty of other drummers around London who wanted the gig. "What did surprise me, very much, is that it appears that a lot of people had been going for auditions and had been playing with Jimi for about two weeks prior to me hearing about this," he says. "London's not that large a place, and in those days, there weren't that many drummers about. A lot of my peers, colleagues - call them what you will - they'd gone for the job. Aynsley Dunbar and Mickey Waller had gone, and knew about this guy and they wanted the job, basically. That's what surprised me, because I didn't hear about it."


Mitchell got the gig after jamming with Hendrix and Redding for a third time. "I think I actually asked Chas, the manager, 'What's on offer? What's the deal here?' It was like, 'Well, look. We've got nothing, apart from a chance. There's two weeks' work, basically.' And I'd gone, 'Well, okay. I tell you what. I'll give it a crack. I'll have a go for two weeks.' What have you got to lose? You're 19 years old, and in fairness to the music, there was something that I could see was potentially inspiring."


With no record deal and hardly any original material, Chandler began to book gigs around England for the Experience. "We had no songs when we first started," Mitchell says. "So for the first couple of gigs, we were doing stuff like [Wilson Pickett's] 'Midnight Hour,' anything we could think of, quite honestly." The band's first tour was a series of opening slots for French rocker Johnny Halliday, followed by "anything that was offered," including pubs and pool halls. But the word seeped quickly through the underground about the band's wild stage shows and startling techniques, and record company cronies began to poke around backstage.


Chandler knew that the Experience was ripe for the studio. "Bless his heart," Mitchell says, "Chas was hocking every bass he owned in sight just to subsidize the band and recording time." The first song the Experience recorded was "Hey Joe" at De Lane Lea studios. In its day, it was a perfectly adequate facility, but by today's standard it was practically Jurassic. "Over all those years, the technology changed so much," Mitchell says. "When we first started recording from the Hendrix days, we had Chas Chandler working as the producer. Don't forget, the Animals' 'House of the Rising Sun' cost £4 - which is $8.00, whatever it is - to make and was done in 15 minutes, first take. And it sounded good.


"Obviously, we were fortunate enough to be around some pretty competent engineers. There was a certain amount of talent going around, especially in England then. It strikes me, looking back on it, English engineers made the most of the limited capabilities of the technology. They knew the structure of the rooms and they knew what mikes to use and where to record things from. They would make the most of the acoustics with limited equipment. And Hendrix did have a natural capability of working in the studio. To him, that was like his palate of colors. There are some people who feel very comfortable behind the board and know how things work. He was just very natural with the technology that existed. I don't know how much time he'd spent working in studios before."


Interview by Nicky Gebhart

Photo by Dezo Hoffman


Don's Tunes

Monday, June 30, 2025

Remembering Dave Van Ronk (June 30, 1936 – February 10, 2002)

 

Dave Van Ronk (1936 – 2002) 

On the blues: “The term ‘blues,’ really, is a marketing idea. The history of the genre screams this truth if you just look at it. W. C. Handy published three or four blues, maybe more, prior to 1920. ‘St. Louis Blues,’ actually, in sheet-music form sold very well. As a matter of fact, it made Handy a wealthy man. But it wasn’t until ’21 or ’22, when Mamie Smith recorded ‘Crazy Blues,’ that blues became a ‘thing.’ I have a recording of ‘Crazy Blues.’ It’s a good song, but it’s not a blues. It’s a ragtime song. And what that taught the marketers—the marketeers—is that if you add the word ‘blues’ to any song title you will double the sales. So, just take a look. In 1921 or 1922 and for the next ten or fifteen years, take a look at all the songs that aren’t blues that are called ‘blues’ and ask yourself, ‘Why is that?’ And the answer is: it sold. Blues is a marketing concept. I mean, any number of old songsters, like Mance Lipscomb or John Hurt, were happy singing ‘Casey Jones,’ ‘Stagger Lee,’ ballads, and dance tunes.”

On Reverend Gary Davis: “One of my lasting regrets is that I knew all of these other blues musicians, and I watched them, I listened to them, I played with them in some cases, and I drank with them, but I didn’t ask them enough questions. This is doubly annoying because I know what questions I would have asked, and I knew what questions even then, or at least some of them, that I should have asked. True, some of them were very evasive—you couldn’t get a straight answer out of Gary Davis about anything having to do with music. He covered up his musical background and influences very assiduously, and how he got to be Gary Davis will forever be a mystery. I’m sure Gary, wherever he is, is perfectly happy with that. Still, though, it wouldn’t have hurt to ask him some probing questions about who he was listening to and what he did. I mean, I know to some extent. I wasn’t entirely remiss. I know, for example, that he loved Blind Blake and he hated, he said, Blind Lemon Jefferson. Well, I could hear Lemon Jefferson in his playing, but I can’t hear any Blake. Now, that’s a curious phenomenon. I mean, you hear Lemon Jefferson in the key of C and you hear Gary in the key of C and you’re going to hear a lot of the same ideas played very differently. Clever disguise, Gary, but there it is! He was covering his tracks. But who among us has no influences? Nobody springs full-grown from a head of Zeus. And did Gary owe something musically to Lemon Jefferson? Well, Jesus, I could think of worse influences. Jefferson is one of the most underrated guitarists in the history of the blues. Partially because he was so badly recorded.”

On Howlin’ Wolf and Charley Patton: “Those Patton sides sound like they were recorded underwater. I asked Howlin’ Wolf one time, who is somehow a cousin of Patton’s, ‘Could you understand what Patton was saying?’ He said, ‘I couldn’t understand what that man was saying when he was talking!’ He said, ‘What I did was, when Charley would make a noise on a tune, I would make the same kind of noise.’ And, you know, you see exactly that on ‘Smokestack Lightnin’,’ which is a version of a Patton song that goes, ‘Smokes like lightning and the bell it shines like gold.’ And Wolf heard it as ‘smokestack lightning.’ And that’s how it came down to us. Chester was very funny about that kind of thing. He was a very articulate musician.”

Photo: Diana Davies/Courtesy of Smithsonian Folkways 
By Andy Friedman / New Yorker


Don's Tunes



Now I may have said before but I cannot stand Dave Van Ronk and his faux academic librarian schtick rings false to me. Folk clubs are full of these guys! Bob Dylan he ain’t. Woody Guthrie he aint! I grant he knew his stuff and had that folk club chain smoking schtick right down pat to me! 
He could play, he could sing but just doesn’t make it! It is driven by burgeoning ego and I am more ‘folk’ than you nonsense. I wouldn’t bother posting this but it’s Dons Tunes so its worth it and reading Van Ronk’s take on the blues as mere marketing is just plain out of order really and what’s the point anyhoo? Of course they wanted to earn a living off their skills! Didn’t you? Playing in your stuffy cafes at night and revolution in the air! 

          It’s a schtick! It’s a trip and everyone is welcome but I see through you . . . . . 

          I ain’t buying

          Labels of the ‘blues’ or ‘folk' makes no never mind, its music You’re getting stuck . . . . the apocryphal Pete Seeger’s wielding that axe, why if it hadn’t been him you damn sure know it would have been you! Bobby knew this and moved on . . . . .little boxes made out of ticky tacky, why’s its university common room mewsic!




 



Friday, June 27, 2025

Dylan of the Day - How do you find new music these days? [Dec 2020] | Don's Tunes




How do you discover new music these days?
Bob Dylan:  
Mostly by accident, by chance. If I go looking for something I usually don’t find it. In fact, I never find it. I walk into things intuitively when I’m most likely not looking for anything. Tiny Hill, Teddy Edwards, people like that. Obscure artists, obscure songs. There’s a song by Jimmy Webb that Frank Sinatra recorded called, “Whatever Happened to Christmas,” [It was the 19th December!] I think he recorded it in the 60s, but I just discovered it. Ella Fitzgerald’s “A-Tiskit, A-Tasket.” Janis Martin, the female Elvis. Have you heard her? Joe Turner is always surprising me with little nuances and things. I listen to Brenda Lee a lot. No matter how many times I hear her, it’s like I just discovered her. She’s such an old soul. Lately, I discovered a fantastic guitar player, Teddy Bunn. I heard him on a Meade Lux Lewis – Sid Catlett record.
Performers and songwriters recommend things to me. Others I just wake up and they’re there. Some I’ve seen live. The Oasis Brothers, I like them both, Julian Casablancas, the Klaxons, Grace Potter. I’ve seen Metallica twice. I’ve made special efforts to see Jack White and Alex Turner. Zac Deputy, I’ve discovered him lately. He’s a one man show like Ed Sheeran, but he sits down when he plays. I’m a fan of Royal Blood, Celeste, Rag and Bone Man, Wu-Tang, Eminem, Nick Cave, Leonard Cohen, anybody with a feeling for words and language, anybody whose vision parallels mine.
Waterloo Sunset is on my playlist and that was recorded in the 60s. “Stealer,” The Free song, that’s been there a while too, along with Leadbelly and the Carter Family. There’s a Duff McKagan song called “Chip Away,” that has profound meaning for me. It’s a graphic song. Chip away, chip away, like Michelangelo, breaking up solid marble stone to discover the form of King David inside. He didn’t build him from the ground up, he chipped away the stone until he discovered the king. It’s like my own songwriting, I overwrite something, then I chip away lines and phrases until I get to the real thing. Shooter Jennings produced that record. It’s a great song. Dvorak, “Moravian Duets.” I just discovered that, but it’s over 100 years old.
From The Wall Street Journal, December 19, 2022


Bob Dylan Q&A
By Jeff Slate


Now theres a playlist of the Day!!
Bobby shares his eclecticism!

What an extraordinary man he is!




Thursday, June 26, 2025

Remembering Big Bill Broonzy (June 26, 1893 or 1903 – August 14, 1958) | Don’s Tunes



Big Bill Broonzy is synonymous with pre-war Chicago blues. One of the first artists to make his way to the Windy City, he became one of the most influential artists in blues history.

Broonzy reinvented himself many times. He made his own cigar box fiddle at the age of 10, and with help from his uncle, learned to play.


After he moved to Chicago in the 1920s, he switched from fiddle to guitar, learning from Papa Charlie Jackson. Broonzy worked as a Pullman porter, cook, and foundry worker until he mastered it.


Broonzy was also one of the first bluesmen in Chicago to play electric guitar, beginning in 1942, though his audiences preferred the acoustic sounds of the South.


When a younger generation of electric blues artists began ruling the Chicago scene, Broonzy found a new audience in the white, folk music lovers of both the United States and Europe.


Being a versatile artist with an instinct for professional survival, Broonzy first went to Europe in 1951. He was greeted by enthusiastic fans, and critical acclaim. Subsequent European tours found him influencing young British artists including John Lennon, Eric Clapton, Ray Davies, and Rory Gallagher. Broonzy felt most at home in the Netherlands, where there were no Jim Crow laws nor racism. He fell in love with a Dutch girl by the name of Pim van Isveldt, and fathered a son, Michael, who still lives in Amsterdam.


During his travels on the folk circuit, Broonzy became friends and performed with artists that included Pete Seeger, and Sonny Terry & Brownie McGhee. His song, “Black, Brown and White Blues,” became a protest anthem against racism. In spite of the song’s critique of discrimination, some fans in the black community did not approve of his shift from blues to folk music. Regardless, upon returning from his last tour of France in 1956, he became a founding faculty member of the Old Town School of Folk Music in Chicago


Source: JD Nash - American Blues Scene 

(photo © Robert Doisneau)

Master French photographer

Tuesday, June 17, 2025

Tom Waits on the evolution of a song . . . . interview Sean O’Hagan (photo Jill Furmanovsky) NME | Don’s Tunes

May be a black-and-white image of 1 person and hat
Photo:the legendary © Jill Furmanovsky
Tom Waits: "It's a scary business. Like creating a Frankenstein monster. You gotta make sure you don't kill the music even as you're creatin' it. That's the hard thing - pullin' out the feathers without killin' the chicken." Originally 'Frank's wild Years' was just a lowlife fragment of a song, tucked away on 'Swordfishtrombones'. Why'd he choose this particular tale of ordinary madness to expand on...? "The story. It was a place to begin. It just lent itself to elaboration. I opened it up, screwed the head of it. Spontaneously. From the pressures of modern life. Heh heh." Biographical? "Well, I don't own a dog. I like dogs but I don't own one. Never burned down a house either. Least, not intentionally."
I ain't usually around when people are listenin' to my stuff. I don't get to hang around listenin' to the listener listenin'. Uh I really dunno how they fit into all of this." See, over here, we mark time with songs. That's really all we do in this culture. Other places, music's got a more direct relationship to the culture - wedding songs, funeral songs. I guess Ireland still has some of that left. More spontaneous too, people join in, update the words, sing along. 'I don't think my music is that social. It sure ain't part of the advertisin' industry either. Some guys in this town write songs to fit a bottle of beer or a tennis shoe. Jingles. Singin' adverts. I ain't part of that too much."
Source: New Musical Express magazine (UK), by Sean OHagan.