Great Album Covers: Trout Mask Replica

Sure, you can find innumerable lists of obscure, weird album covers from the 60s through the 80s on various websites and blogs, but by and large they are both weird and terrible at the same time. Not so for Trout Mask Replica, which I owned on CD for years and eventually had to buy on vinyl just to have a bigger version of its cover. That's because it is both weird and fantastic at the same time.

This cover is like a multi-layered puzzle you eventually figure out by listening to the album. Even then, questions remain:

1) Is that a light bulb or something sticking out of the top of his hat?

2) Is that actually Captain Beefheart on the cover?

3) Is that a real trout's head or a really good simulacrum?

4) Why is he cradling it in his hand as if to give it a jaunty "hello" mime?

5) OK, I get that it's a replica of a trout mask. But why would someone need a trout mask to begin with? Furthermore, does this imply that a trout mask uses a real trout, while a replica uses an aforementioned simulacrum?

Yeah, I know it's an absurdist, surreal picture that isn't trying to make sense. One of the things I love about album covers is that they can be vague or abstract and leave a lot up to the viewer. Trout Mask Replica is definitely this way, and I enjoy puzzling over it even though there are no answers to be found.

Album of the Week: Tom Waits- Swordfishtrombones

There are many great lines from 'Pulp Fiction.' Every time I see the movie, I latch unto one quote or another. It's a movie where the visual action captures the imagination just as much as the dialogue. On the last viewing, the line "I'm an American honey, our names don't mean s%^&" caught my interest. Most American bands really have this same unpretentious attitude toward their music even if they perform under high falutin' names. American rock bands of the same era as that film, like Guided By Voices, showed us that being almost accidentally great is better than British rock bands striving for and demanding praise but falling far short of actual greatness. You know, like Oasis.

Tom Waits embodies the American artist for me, because you get the distinct impression that even when he's making serious 'art' he still has a sense of humor about it. He also isn't affected by trends in music. I personally think the 1980s was the worst decade of music so far because I can't stand how albums from that era sound. The ultra-slick, clinical, plasticky, and synthetic sound of it all. The way bass and drums don't sound right. But Swordfishtrombones has a unique, timeless aesthetic, just as Waits's other albums afterward owe no obvious debt to any genre or trend. Furthermore, 'Pretentious' is one of the last words I would associate with the man. If you sat down and talked to Tom Waits about his songcraft or his approach to his art, I imagine he would just shrug and say he's an entertainer like any other trying to make a buck while recording the kind of music he wants to.

However, it's easy to fall into the trap of romanticizing such artists. Swordfishtrombones has some interesting stories behind its creation, and sits at the tipping point of Tom Waits's career between his earlier late-night jazz club, alcohol soaked singer/songwriter albums and his later lucid junkyard, Captain Beefheart-inspired excursions. But the best way to approach the album is to experience it without context. To go back to the Captain Beefheart thread and tug until its loose, the first time I listened to Trout Mask Replica I didn't know anything about it, other than that my friend said it was a legendarily weird and 'out there' album. It's rare that I hear an album which shocks me so utterly I have no way of describing it. And we all know that a critic's worst fear is to be unable to make easy, lazy comparisons to other music. Whoops...forget you read that.

The thing that really strikes me about Swordfishtrombones is how play-like it is. Not play-like as in childish and fun, but as in "like a stage play." I know that it was the first of a trilogy of albums that would eventually see Waits writing a musical with his wife called 'Frank's Wild Years', but even without that knowledge the album is incredibly visual and theatrical. There is just something about its spacious production (it's like you can feel the streets and scenes he's singing about), the variety of instrumentation, the stripped down number of instruments used, and the odd sounds on display that create powerful imagery in my head. As with 'Pulp Fiction's visuals and dialogue, Swordfishtrombones's lyrics and music are equally great. So, yeah, I always picture the album playing out on a stage in my head. I don't mean a concert, though; moreso I see Waits on stage with his band members coming on and off as required, with sets and lightning and everything. The three instrumentals give some traveling time or scene changes to the "story" I imagine going on, in particular the hushed curtain fall of 'Rainbirds', a beautiful mostly-solo piano piece.

Swordfishtrombones still fascinates today for two musical reasons. One is, as I said above, the instruments used. Waits employs what you'll so often see referred to as a junkyard orchestra on this album, with all kinds of things that sound like percussion, guitar, bass, etc. but in warped or twisted ways. The marimbas--another idea borrowed from Captain Beefheart, which gave such interesting texture to his Lick My Decals Off, Baby--accordions, harmoniums, and bagpipes give the album a very, very distinctive sound. But unlike many bands who used non-traditional music in a rock context, none of it feels gimmicky or forced. These odd sounds shade and highlight the songs. The second reason Swordfishtrombones captures a listener is Tom Waits's voice. He never was a traditionally 'good' singer on his barroom crooner albums like Small Change, favoring a raspy baritone, but with this album he absolutely sets his voice free, howling and shrieking and contorting along with the characters and songs. Again, a debt is owed to Captain Beefheart here. But whereas Trout Mask Replica sounds like Howlin' Wolf fronting a surrealist rock band that aspires to free jazz from time to time, Swordfishtrombones sounds like an ex-barfly piano man leading an ethnic, European folk music band that aspires to rock music from time to time. How else to describe the angry rant of '16 Shells From A Thirty-Ought-Six', with its percussion seemingly played on baking sheets, steam pipes, pots, and pans while a bassist and guitarist try to be heard over the clangor. Or the majestic march step, brass-band-parade-through-town of 'In The Neighborhood.' Or the B-3 organ smooth jazz spoken word of 'Frank's Wild Years', displaying Waits's personality, humor, and skill with words. Or the smoky piano ballad 'Soldier's Things', which feels to me like a final nod of the hat (with raised drink in hand) to the first phase of his career.

Swordfishtrombones is an album I find impossible to criticize. Rain Dogs is a very similar sequel that I also like immensely, but at 19 songs it drags a bit. No such problems with Swordfishtrombones. It often shows up on 'best of' lists by magazines and websites, and once you're a fan, it's easy to feel the same way.

Captain Beefheart- Lick My Decals Off, Baby

Like a lot of difficult, strange, or abstract music, Captain Beefheart has always been a love-it-or-hate-it proposition. I've officially ran the gamut of reactions to his music--well, the albums I've heard anyway--from "what the hell is this?!" to "is this a joke??" to "joke or not, I like it" to "this is awesome!!" to "do I just like this because I'm drunk??" to "do I just like this because it's so unlike anything else??" to "man, it's funny playing this around people who aren't prepared for it" to "OK, yeah, this is great." I feel like I've spent as much time, if not more time, thinking about his music than I have listening to it. Perhaps that is part of my fascination with it and similar artists like Pere Ubu, Frank Zappa, and Man Man: they force you to reconsider your notions of what is and isn't music, what can and can't be a rhythm or melody, what structure (if any) is necessary, and finally, just how we react to music that piece by piece or all at once subverts our expectations about music.

Lick My Decals Off, Baby is the follow-up to Trout Mask Replica, a nearly mythical album that still astounds and confounds almost 40 years later. Though in my opinion it's not Beefheart's best, Lick My Decals Off, Baby is worthy of similar praise and recognition. Where Trout set the table with an insane mix of avant garde, free jazz, rock, old fashioned blues, and Beefheart's indescribable voice that ranges from low growls to high pitched shrieks, Lick My Decals refines the sound by paring down to a single album and stripping away some of the bizarre instrumentation, while subsequently adding the sublime marimba of Art Tripp. With all of this comes a change in tone: Lick My Decals feels and sounds less playful and absurdist, toughening up and having a more bitter/cynical lyrical bent.

To try to describe the sound of the album is almost impossible. Somewhere between free jazz and late 60s/early 70s rock, Lick My Decals Off, Baby moves from the mindblowing instrumental showcases like 'One Red Rose That I Mean' to the blusey-but-warped 'The Buggy Boogie Woogie' to the frantic freak-outs like 'Doctor Dark' and 'The Clouds Are Full of Wine (not Whiskey or Rye).' You really must experience Captain Beefheart's music for yourself to get what it's all about, because there is very little precedent or basis for comparison.

Therein lies the genius of the album, and the reason you'll either love or hate it. This truly is one of those cases where one man's genius is another man's charlatan. Either Captain Beefheart is an intensely creative person who recorded some of the most sublime and unique music of the 20th century, or he's an overrated trash merchant who people say they like in order to seem cool or ahead of trends. I fall on the pro side of the debate, though almost everyone I know hates him.

On a side note, Lick My Decals Off, Baby is currently out of print on CD. So if you really want to hear this, you'll have to get a record player and track it down. I assure you that if you like Captain Beefheart, it's worth the trouble.

I don't feel as though much more needs to be said about this album. In my estimation it's not as good as Trout Mask Replica, but it's still essential listening for fans of Captain Beefheart, and anyone who enjoys bizarre, experimental music.