The Heart Of Saturday Night

Album: The Heart of Saturday Night

Artist: Tom Waits

Released: October 1st, 1974

Highlights: New Coat of Paint, San Diego Serenade, Fumblin’ With the Blues, Drunk On the Moon

Tom Waits’ debut, 1973’s “Closing Time”, was a trip to a charming poorly lit bar in the middle of a frantic metropolis. The journey, however, was one that took place a little bit too late: by then, the night was not young and full of promises; sunrise was already around the corner, and a miserable bartender was counting the minutes until he could escort the last few drunk patrons out of the establishment and call it a night. A young man sat by the piano singing of melancholy, nostalgia, and lost love to the ears of those who had nothing better to do than to be there. “The Heart of Saturday Night” does not get away from that setting: it is the same bar, the same bartender, the same metropolis, the same young man by the piano, and – maybe – even the same night. What it does do is move its starting time to a few hours earlier; to when promises and expectations still exist, and people are looking for the heart of the action rather than at the bottom of an empty glass.

“The Heart of Saturday Night”, then, in a way, follows the mold of its stellar predecessor. Tom Waits gives his small audience a glimpse of his talent as a singer-songwriter, which here is comparable to that of Neil Young and Bob Dylan, by – like those two men in their early days – dressing his melodies and lyrics in simplicity. The difference between them is that while Dylan and Young did it with folk and country, Waits aims for jazz and blues, with his piano-playing taking center stage in all but two of the record’s eleven tunes, usually accompanied by lush orchestration or by a full-blown jazz ensemble with horns, drums, and bass. Meanwhile, the similarity between them is their uncanny ability to unearth remarkable melodies with every passing song, something that transforms “The Heart of Saturday Night” into a work that is invariably moving.

Waits, perhaps due to his constant touring through small clubs and bars that suited his material, shows he is a skilled architect of nighttime exuberance both in music and lyrics. The former element, by itself, would be more than enough to evoke images of a bright moon shining high above dark streets populated with the noise and lights of all kinds of joints and their customers; however, it is the wishfulness and strength of Waits’ voice, joined by his beautiful lyrical imagery, that take “The Heart of Saturday Night” over the top. Lines like “And I’m blinded by the neon / Don’t try and change my tune / Cause I thought I heard a saxophone / I’m drunk on the moon” and “You know the bartenders / They all know my name / And they catch me when I’m pulling up lame / And I’m a pool-shooting-shimmy-shyster shaking my head / When I should be living clean instead” paint gorgeous pictures by themselves, and, when backed by music that is blissful and evocative, they form a synergy that is almost unmatched.

Given the delightfully odd detours he would take later in his career, “The Heart of Saturday Night” – along with “Closing Time” – are a showcase of Tom Waits at his most accessible and immediately likable state. Few albums out there are as cohesive in the thoughts and images they paint, and even fewer feature such an incredible level of songwriting prowess. Whether he is tackling more energetic numbers (“Diamonds on My Windshield”, “Fumblin’ With the Blues”, and “New Coat of Paint”) or dabbling in melancholy (“Please Call Me, Baby” and “San Diego Serenade”), Waits is always hitting his mark, and “The Heart of Saturday Night” is bound to fill with joy – even if it is of the contemplative kind – the most miserable drunkards, the greatest admirers of nighttime life, and all of those with a strong love for good music.