01	16 Shells From A Thirty-Ought-Six						04:18
	02	Red Shoes						04:19
	03	Underground						02:34
	04	Cold Cold Ground						03:27
	05	Straight To The Top						02:48
	06	Yesterday Is Here						02:40
	07	Way Down In The Hole						04:43
	08	Falling Down						04:15
	09	Strange Weather						03:35
	10	Big Black Mariah						02:59
	11	Rain Dogs						03:36
	12	Train Song						04:29
	13	Johnsburg, Illinois						01:29
	14	Ruby's Arms						04:54
	15	Telephone Call From Istanbul						04:17
	16	Clap Hands						04:57
	17	Gun Street Girl						04:01
	18	Time						04:13

Big Time, 1988
c Island Visual Arts Inc. (P) Island Records Inc. 7 90987-2
Jalma Music, Admin. by Ackee Music, Inc. (ASCAP)
Island ITW4 (LP). Island 422-842 470-2 (CD).
except for "Red Shoes" and "Ruby's Arms" published by Fifth Floor Music Inc. (ASCAP)
(Live compilation album)

Tom Waits: vocals, guitar ("Cold Cold Ground", "Strange Weather"), organ ("Falling Down"), producer
Kathleen Brennan-Waits: producer, co-writer ("Strange Weather", "Yesterday Is Here")
Michael Blair: drums, percussion, bongos, brake drum
Ralph Carney: saxes, clarinets, baritone horn
Greg Cohen: electric bass, Basstarda, alto horn, co-writer ("Straight To The Top")
Marc Ribot: guitars, banjo, trumpet
Willie Schwarz: accordion, hammond organ, sitar, conga
Fred Tackett: guitar ("Falling Down")
Richie Hayward: drums ("Falling Down")
Larry Taylor: upright bass ("Falling Down")
Biff Dawes: recording, re-mixing
Jon Oster: re-mixing
Ellen Smith: project coordinator
Catharina Masters: production coordinator ("Falling Down")
Chris Blackwell: executive producer
Lucinda Cowel: cover art


Produced by Tom Waits and Kathleen Brennan

Recorded live in Los Angeles, San Francisco,
Dublin, Stockholm and Berlin
All songs recorded live to 24 track and
remixed by Biff Dawes, except "Big Black Mariah",
"Red Shoes", "Time", "Straight to the Top",
"Ruby's Arms", and "Clap Hands", recorded
and mixed live to cassette by John Oster.


"Falling Down" recorded and mixed by Biff Dawes at Sunset Sound, LA





Big Time (live compilation)

c(1988) Island ITW4 (LP only?)(67:40)
Island 422-842 470-2 (CD)
All selections by Tom Waits unless noted.


Tracks

16 Shells From a Thirty-Ought Six
Red Shoes
Underground*
Cold Cold Ground
Straight to the Top*
Way Down In The Hole*
Falling Down
Strange Weather
Big Black Mariah
Rain Dogs
Train Song
Johnsburg, Illinois*
Ruby's Arms*
Telephone Call From Istanbul
Clap Hands*
Gun Street Girl
Time

*CD only



Tentative Review #118
Tom Waits
Big Time
(released 1988)

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Track: Rating:
1. Sixteen Shells From A Thirty-Ought-Six
2. Red Shoes
3. Cold Cold Ground
4. Way Down In The Hole
5. Falling Down
6. Strange Weather
7. Big Black Mariah
8. Rain Dogs
9. Train Song
10.Telephone Call From Istanbul
11.Gun Street Girl
12.Time

Personnel:
Tom Waits: organ, vocals
Michael Blair: percussion, bongos, drums
Ralph Carney: clarinet, horn, sax
Greg Cohen: bass, horn
Richard Hayward: drums
Marc Ribot: banjo, guitar, trumpet
Willie Schwarz: accordion, conga, Hammond, sitar
Fred Tackett: guitar
Larry Taylor: bass
Credits:
All songs written by Tom Waits except "Strange Weather", written by
Brennan/Waits.


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Comments:
Although falling outside the history of progressive rock, Tom Waits is unquestionably a significant figure in modern American "art music" (though he might reject the term). His early albums reveal a tortured jazz-blues authenticity which few of his contemporaries could have hoped to equal; Frank Zappa thought enough of him to have him open a few shows in the mid-'70s, even in the face of somewhat hostile crowds. By the 1980s, Waits elaborated his musical style somewhat and came up with the trilogy that made his reputation: Swordfishtrombones, Rain Dogs and Frank's Wild Years. Big Time is a live album from this period.

This reviewer admits that he is not an expert in all things Waits -- though possessing a general knowledge and appreciation of his music, the only other TW album which he possesses is the aforementioned Sftb. Comparisons with the corresponding studio tracks will, accordingly, not occupy much space in this review.

Big Time is a mixed bag as an introduction to Waits, as it effectively was for me. While it is the most convenient overview of his career (as the Trouser Press Guide notes), the cohesiveness and character development which marked his studio works are generally not to be found here. Newcomers might be recommended to start with either Swordfish or something more recent. For those with some background in the field (or for those who just like disobeying my recommendations), though, Big Time should supplement the studio works fairly well.

The live performances by the Waits band are minor marvels of sorts -- musically diverse universes of ragged beauty, seemingly held together by the most tenuous of threads. There's a strong aura of the unpredictable over the entire thing, though Waits is enough of a showman to keep the entire thing unified. Whatever the limits of this "live album" concept, the music is generally stellar throughout -- and is strongly recommended to all interested parties.

There have been rumours that Waits was attempting to emulate Captain Beefheart at the time of Swordfishtrombones. Even if he wasn't, "Sixteen Shells From A Thirty-Ought-Six" suggests that something of CB's genius was carried over to his work. The basis of an unconventional rock band arrangement is there (xylophone and horns are two of the leading instruments on this track), as is the sense of (actually well-organized) musical chaos occurring around the main performance ... which, of course is Waits himself, pouring every aspect of his persona into this depraved tale. As per Waits's general career, the guitar solo which appears towards the end is not "prog" ... but has its tricks nonetheless. This is a great opener, and should win quite a few converts to the Waits cause.

"Red Shoes" is almost as good, with Tom in full demonic mode as he ventures through the lowest levels of his vocal range (the significance of the title to demonic trade-offs should be evident to most readers). The dominance of organ (and maracas, to some extent) on the introduction suggests an atmosphere of classic psycho-dramatic theatre, a mood which the actual song does nothing to diminish (and the gradual building of the guitar line is handled fairly well too).

Relative to the rest of the album, the selections which then follow are a bit of a letdown. "Cold Cold Ground" has a genuinely haunting lead vocal line (not all of Waits's singing talents lie in his famed abrasiveness, after all). With minimal backing, Tom croons a tale of poverty, frustration and the end of hubris ... if it weren't for a slight element of mainstream balladry in the track (somewhat akin to Bruce Springsteen) the track might be easier to unconditionally enjoy.

Moving on to "the religious material", TW then takes his audience through "Way Down In The Hole", a mock-gospel number performed over a samba-infected beat. It shouldn't surprise too many readers to learn that this number features a most impressive mid-song wail -- however ironic his context, there's no question that Tom has the ability to sing as though possessed with some divine presence. The interplay with the audience is quite amusing as well; certainly, Tom's success in getting an "amen" from the crowd suggests that he might have had some success in the revival circuit. The only problem is his decision to throw in a televangelist reference about halfway through -- this can't help but date the performance, somewhat. Still, this would have been quite impressive to witness live.

"Falling Down" is the token "new studio track" on the album, and it shows. Using a more polished vocal mannerism, Tom presents a pilgrim's tale of questing for a distant godhead figure (associated with a female presence, naturally). This is a fairly well-trod theme in the musical world, and, though Waits does a good enough job, he doesn't really add anything really notable to it. The apparent presence of an upright bass is notable, but not for terribly much; the guitar solo is simply unmemorable. Painless, perhaps, but this number still could have been excised fairly easily.

Waits gets the opportunity to showcase his London accent on "Strange Weather" (quite tasteful, really), which mingles well with the subtle introduction of the main theme. This alcoholic's lament is most notable for its brief "chorus", a tragi-comic feat that Waits pulls off perfectly each time. The saxophone is given a fairly prominent role in this number, as is befitting for a work obviously premised in jazz clubs (the mere fact of a London accent does not mean that the action occurs in London, obviously).

The dementia of "Big Black Mariah" seems evident from its first guitar notes onward -- it's probably no coincidence that this number begins the second half of the album, just as "Sixteen Shells" began the first side. While this track isn't quite as good as its counter, it still has more than its fair share of favourable qualities -- some, in particular, might note the extreme high range of Waits's voice, as used in mid-song.

From thence, it's on to another album highlight. "Rain Dogs" suggests a "high society in high decay" motif in both its music and lyric, with the unlikely protagonist being taken from obscurity to decadence in a fairly easy step. The accordion is once again prominent in the performance, even taking a solo in mid-performance; Waits's voice seems extremely poignant in the period after this, actually. The twisted ballroom dance motif at the end suggests a Poe-esque aura of madness setting over the decadent assembly, though no "fall" actually occurs within the song. Another triumph.

Prior to "Train Song", Tom indulges in an amusing bit of interplay with the audience ... and I won't spoil it for those who haven't yet heard the album -- let's just say that it involves the Civil War. In any event, the singer's nonchalant switch from humour to a serious stage performance is commendable; "Train Song" turns out to be a soulful lament, similar in many respects to "Cold Cold Ground" (though still possessing of some hope at the end). As per "CCG", moreover, this track (which is dominated by piano, as far as the accompaniment goes) isn't quite as noteworthy as those surrounding it, despite being an impressive number on its own terms.

Another Beefheartian track then emerges with "Telephone Call From Istanbul", a tale of international espionage and betrayal (which, again, bears some musical similarities to "Sixteen Shells"). The brass lead for much of the song is nothing short of insane (or, at least, seems that way), and the guitar track seems rather CB-inspired as well. As per the song qua song, the chorus here seems to be one of the best of Tom's career (though it's not entirely clear how someone could drive a car when they're dead in the first place...).

The slow Western (not country) music which begins "Gun Street Girl" sets the stage for one of the most curious numbers on the release -- TW's tale of depravity and remorse is presented in conjunction with a hypnotic musical backing (dominated by tom-toms, it would seen). The end result is akin to a chant derived from the animist traditions, somehow placing the guttural within a workable context. Also of note are the distorted vocal backing tracks, a strange banjo lead, and a quote from "Papa Was A Rolling Stone". A much stranger triumph than the other tracks on the album, this is still an extremely notable work.

The album, appropriately, ends with "Time", a ballad for lost souls in their journeys through bars and the worlds of decadence therein; the gentle chorus combined the opiating and destructive elements in equal amounts. The musical backing remains minimal throughout the number, allowing the lyrical presence to emerge in a reasonably uninterrupted manner. A Spartan good-bye ends the performance.

Although this reviewer would certainly recommend that more progressive listeners (including himself) examine Waits's career in further detail, he remains uncertain that Big Time is the best first step. If not the best means of an introduction, however, it would probably not be harmful as such -- the reader is left to his own discretion accordingly.

The Christopher Currie
(review originally posted to alt.music.yes on 18 Jul 1998)





BIG TIME

Year Of Release: 1988
Record rating = 8
Overall rating = 11

Live 'n' cackling. Even gruffer and grumblier than usual.
Best song: suit yourself.

Track listing: 1) 16 Shells From A Thirty-Ought-Six; 2) Red Shoes; 3) Underground; 4) Cold Cold Ground; 5) Straight To The Top; 6) Yesterday Is Here; 7) Way Down In The Hole; 8) Falling Down; 9) Strange Weather; 10) Big Black Mariah; 11) Rain Dogs; 12) Train Song; 13) Johnsburg, Illinois; 14) Ruby's Arms; 15) Telephone Call From Istanbul; 16) Clap Hands; 17) Gun Street Girl; 18) Time.

The only 'proper' live album Waits ever released: of course, there was always Nighthawks At The Diner, but it was more of a 'live method' to record some new compositions than anything else, while Big Time, actually a soundtrack to an extensive live movie, is exactly what a proper live album should be. Now one might actually question the necessity of a live album for Tom's material; more or less like every singer-songwriter, it isn't exactly clear beforehand what a live interpretation of these songs could add to their studio potential. After all, doesn't stuff like Rain Dogs actually sound 'live' to you? Even with all the overdubs? So minimalistic, so well-produced, and so dang energetic that it'd really be hard to improve on 'er.
And in a sense, it's right: Big Time doesn't provide no shocking revelations or reinterpretations. In fact, Tom's overall potential isn't even displayed for all its worth; he sings in pretty much the same "over-grizzled" manner on the absolute majority of the songs, and in the process those subtle differencies in vocal tone that used to characterize 'Telephone Call From Istanbul', 'Big Black Mariah', 'Clap Hands', etc., are kinda neutralized. Even the tender ballads are made gruff and rough, with a few exceptions, and as a result, the effect just wears down on you (and it's a double album, too). On the positive side, though, most of the songs do not sound like carbon copies of the studio recordings - be it the vocal delivery, or the musical arrangement, or some funny in-between-the-lines gag, there's always something to hold a dedicated fan's interest.
Another positive aspect is Tom's backing band and the sound quality of the sonic assaults they provide; not only is it excellent, at times it is consciously mixed in "audience bootleg" quality (cleaned up, of course) just to present an additional level of roughness and down-to-earth flavour. Of special note is the guitar work of Marc Ribot, clumsy, hoarse, but powerful guitar "digs" (can't even call 'em 'licks', really!) with just enough dissonance to keep everything frigged up, but enough melodicity to make you actually enjoy the proceedings.
The setlist here mostly consists of new stuff - the last three albums are heavily represented, with Franks Wild Years taking the lead and Swordfishtrombones having but three numbers out of eighteen. Apparently, Tom is not the nostalgic kind; he ventures into the Seventies only once, and that sole occasion ('Red Shoes By The Drugstore') is so thoroughly 'raindoggified', with the obligatory pump organ and marimbas, that you could hardly tell it actually goes back to 1978. Apart from that, there are two new songs, both of which could have been minor highlights on Wild Years: 'Strange Weather', a quiet cabaret waltz driven by a slow banjo part, and, uh, another waltz-tempo tune, the accordeon-based 'Falling Down', actually a studio recording.
It's pretty hard to even begin chatting about the highlights - no bad songs on here, and, like I said, many of the former highlights are really neutralized, so it all kinda flows together real well, real seamless (even despite the annoying fade-ins and fade-outs threatening the album's cohesiveness), real undistinguishable. You'll have to get used to the gruff ballads, I'm afraid; it's pretty hard, for instance, to feel the former heart-wrenching sentimentality of 'Yesterday Is Here' in this sloppy drunken delivery of the tune, but it's really just a matter of getting adapted to it. It must be said, though, that there's a short 'solo piano ballad' set in the second half of the album, where Tom gets to performing 'Train Song', 'Johnsburg, Illinois', and even 'Ruby's Arms' off Heartattack And Vine in his 'gentler' voice (granted, Tom at his gentlest still sounds pretty much like Lemmy of Motorhead, but everything's relative, so there you go), but, to tell you the truth, it's also the section that impresses me the least - too close to the originals. But hah, then again, it just proves I can't be satisfied by anything.
As for the rockers, watch out for the clumsy mad guitar on '16 Shells' and 'Big Black Mariah' - screeching like a rusted old automobile, dirty and raw like a possum run over on the road (pretty disgusting analogy, but it works for me). Look out for the insane Vegas-y ending to 'Telephone Call'. Watch Tom screw up the vocal rhythmics on 'Underground' and get out unscathed. Look at 'im battling with the Devil ('I feel as though we should move into the religious material') on 'Way Down In The Hole'. Listen to the vocal hell at the beginning of 'Clap Hands' (where the audience, believe it or not, actually does clap hands, even if I'm not sure the song was meant to invite 'em to do it). Or the unbelievable vocal gymnastics on 'Gun Street Girl'. There's a little bit of heaven in everything.
One thing I lament is there's very little stage banter from Tom, the master of quick pun and hard-hitting social commentary. Granted, maybe the sole 'GOOD EVENING!', grunted in Tom's most nightmarish howl at the beginning of the show, is enough to compensate for that... but maybe it isn't. Thus, I'm outa here, but not before I transcribe the sole 'gag' told by Mr Waits at the beginning of his tender romantic piano ballad set: 'All right, actually I get asked... well, look, the question I get asked the most is... well, I mean, it happens a lot, okay, enough that I would remark on it... a lot of people come up to me and they say Tom, is it possible for a woman to get pregnant without intercourse?... and-uh... my answer's always the same, I say, well listen, we'll have to go all the way back to the Civil War... uh... apparently, a stray bullet actually pierced the testicle of a Union soldier and then lodged itself in the ovules of an eighteen-year old girl who was actually a hundred feet from him at the time... uh... well, the baby was fine, she was very happy, guilt-free... and... 'course the soldier was a little pissed off... well, when you think about it, it's actually a form of intercourse, but... [in a particularly threatening tone:] not for everyone. Those who love action, maybe.' Good old Tom, always ready to come up with practical advice.