Monday, August 9, 2010

Cynic, avowed (maybe)

Tom Waits came on my Pandora mix a half-hour ago.

Didn't recognize it as Waits at all. Not at all the signature basso growl (usually described as "soaked in a vat of bourbon, left hang to dry in the smokehouse for a couple months, and then taken outside and run over by a car").  But indeed, here it is again, onYoutube, attributed to both his body and his body of work, first recorded the year I was born. 
"Well I hope that I don't fall in love with you
'Cause falling in love just makes me blue,
Well the music plays
and you display your heart for me to see,
I had a beer and now I hear you calling out for me
And I hope that I don't fall in love with you.

Well the room is crowded, there's people everywhere
And I wonder, should I offer you a chair?
Well if you sit down with this old clown,
take that frown and break it,
Before the evening's gone away,
I think that we could make it,
And I hope that I don't fall in love with you.

Now the night does funny things inside a man
These old tomcat feelings you don't understand
I turn around and look at you, you light a cigarette
Wish I had the guts to bum one, but we've never met
And I hope that I don't fall in love with you.
I can see that you are lonesome just like me,
and it being late, you'd like some some company,
Well I've had two, I look at you, and you look back at me,
The guy you're with has up and split,
the chair next to you's free,
And I hope that you don't fall in love with me.

Now it's closing time, the music's fading out
Last call for drinks, I'll have another stout.
Turn around to look at you, you're nowhere to be found,
I search the place for your lost face, guess I'll have another round
And I think that I just fell in love with you."
do want to be a big softie on these lyrics.  Especially with the broken-chord acoustic backdrop, crying out for sentimentality.

Yet it must be my mood today.  Cynicism in pure form.  Thinking instead:

Yeah right, beer doesn't solve anything. Especially 2 beers.  Image of man as tomcat? Hardly sexy. (Although that might explain why the woman doesn't understand.)  Late-night loneliness? Dangerous.  Unproductive.

And women in bars who frown do not get picked up.  This I know.

(Ah.  Sweet Mondays!)

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