“Swordfishtrombones” was by far Tom Waits’ bulkiest record when it was released. But the grumbler had finally found his habitus with his eighth studio album.
The grumpiest of all music grantlers had made eight albums, mostly based on his crusty, discordant bar piano playing, often equipped with strings and thick productions. Then came the caesura: label, producer and manager were sorted out. Waits went into the studio alone and, as a pathological bear-biter, mumbled together a lumbering work full of songwriting grandeur, which he artfully punctuated with grinding, rattling and…
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