To many, the admission that I really am not that familiar with Tom Waits, might be a personal insult to music lovers everyway.

I’m familiar with the name and have heard bits and pieces scattered throughout the years, so unlike Black Mountain last week, I at least can say I know who Tom Waits is.

After familiarizing myself with Waits’ music, primarily his 1985 album “Rain Dogs” for the purposes of this column, I’ve come to realize that Waits doesn’t bend to being typified in one genre or another and that is refreshing.

“Rain Dogs” is a wonderful example of this as Waits’ gravel-gargling voice strolls you through this 19-song 10th offering with little rush, except when it’s needed to break up the pace. There’s never a flow problem with “Rain Dogs,” in part due to some instrumental and spoken word offerings, including the narrative “9th & Hennepin,” which has a very noir feel to it. It’s an interesting break between the instrumental “Midtown,” and “Gun Street Girl.”

It’s Waits’ lack of fear to dip into any style that helps keep this album interesting. As base, Waits relies on blues, but as be proves throughout, that can branch off into so many different areas. You get songs that sound like they could come direct from the jazz of the 1920s, songs that borrow from the twangy country of the 60s and 70s to a swing band feel.

Neither of these I really count as favorites, but when Waits adds his own sound with lyrics that could sell a book, you listen.

What Waits does so well is avoid the pop sounds that entangled most everybody during the 1980s. Probably the closest he comes is “Downtown Train,” which was covered by both Rod Stewart and Bob Seager. And really, he’s just tip-toeing the line, making sure that if the song falls, it falls to the side of Waits’ style.

 

Dig it

The songs on this album are short, and that works. There are many songs that if they were to go the usual average length of four and five minutes, wouldn’t hold up.

Waits packs a lot into a small package and that’s something a lot of artists and hubris don’t let their albums do.

Again and in particular, the instrumentals and spoken word moments help move this forward.

 

Didn’t dig it

There are times that Waits’ signature rasp just doesn’t work. It’s a double-edged sword. His voice adds plenty of ambiance and even emotion, but his scale only goes so far, either up or down.

I usually don’t harp on a group or act to limit themselves, but in this case Waits’ best bet is to stick to the range his voice can handle.

It doesn’t happen often, but on songs like “Anywhere I Lay My Head,” it comes off sounding like a plea to keep listening at times with his voice overreaching on the higher notes.

It’s a small gripe, but it’s enough to make you cringe from time to time.

 

Stand out song

Maybe it’s because I’m familiar with the song, I don’t know, but hearing the original version of “Downtown Train” can make a person cry when you hear Rod Stewart’s version.

Waits’ singing carries more weight and seems more longing as he describes seeing a woman for mere moments at a time. He captures that feeling when you get when see someone that strikes you to the core and how it can make your day, putting everything else in perspective.

 

Final verdict

Listening to a full Tom Waits album is not going to send me on a shopping spree for the lengthy list of albums he’s put out since the 1970s, but I’m not going to pass his songs up when I hear him on the radio.

Tom Waits is atmospheric and there are times on fog-shrouded, lonely nights where you are going to want hear Tom Waits.

He’s going to be that one other guy at the bar who will buy you a shot but leave you both to sit in comfortable silence while you listen to the background jazz.