An English punk friend says you can tell someone’s good people if their record collection includes Sparks.
Gotta love the Swedes propensity for the silly.
Still A+ in my book
Bonus:
The 1st one has actually functional closed captions!
Step Right Up (Tom Waits song) - Wikipedia
This one’s obvs not V safe for work:
Lyrics, etc:
Pasties and a G-String (At The Two O’Clock Club) (1976) – Tom Waits | Observation Blogger
The last time someone got a mad crush on me, an a capella Tom Waits medley really sealed the deal. He’d already made sure my male friend (another Chris) was only a friend, and let me know he was as venerable as myself when Mr Waits came up in convo. We were out on the patio of the bar Kegger (the gentleman in question) then part-owned and managed. The young 'uns amongst those w/whomst Chris and I had been chatting weren’t familiar w/Mr Waits, so I took it upon myself to hip 'em.
I’ve been able to do a great Tom Waits impression since I got hip to him in my late teens, despite being a smol woman w/a gravel-free alto voice. The medley I whipped out included summa the tastiest bits of the above pair and a few others - Frank’s Wild Years, Telephone Call From Istanbul, Mr Siegel, 16 Shells From a 30:06, and Innocent When You Dream [always do a ballad if one’s available and you’re confident].
Everyone was cracking up - esp the fellow Waits fans - and the kids’ minds were blown, but Kegger was enchanted. He flirted like crazy, and even said my BF must be an idiot for letting me go anywhere without him.
That’s a mighty nice thing to hear from a cutie when one’s pushing 50.
I have a mad crush on you just from reading this!
BTW, Cassandra Peterson has put to rest the rumors that that’s her in the pasties and g-string. It’s not, it’s a stripper by the name of Jinx.
“I always suspected it wasn’t me,” she told us. “I’m sorry to say this but my boobs are better, but I thought, ‘Maybe it’s the pose.’ But I was pretty sure it wasn’t me – my boobs are very close to me; I see them every day!”
One of my better nights, despite the bright green cast on my arm. I’d had the good sense to wear lipstick and eyeshadow that matched it, anyway.
{I’d broken my arm Fri Nov 13th, 2015 - the same Fri the 13th as the Paris Bataclan attack. }
I never bought the old husband’s tale re: Small Change’s cover. Ms Peterson’s delightful visage is also far prettier and very different.
Mom loved him, too, and dubbed Mr Waits The Irish Anti-Tenor. Wish I could tell him that. He’d love it.
My punk buddy Joey turned me on to Tom Waits when I was 18. He knew I’d love him. A couple months later, a friend (who’d been hipping me to all kindsa music from all over the world since my sophomore year) popped Heartattack and Vine onto the turntable with a flourish one evening. He hid the cover. After a minute, all but beside himself with impatient glee, he waved the cover around and triumphantly announced, “This guy’s white!”
When I said, “Oh, I know! It’s Tom Waits! He’s so great!” he was livid.
“Who played Tom Waits for you?!” he demanded. When I told him, he got even more angry. He scoffed, then spat, “That moron?!”
He took the LP off the turntable and put it away, turned off the stereo, and stomped off to his bedroom, slamming the door.
I shrugged.
His roommate came into the living room to ask me WTF was wrong with him.
“He’s mad b/c Joe hipped me to Tom Waits. Guess he wanted to do it.” I shrugged again. He stared at me while valiantly trying to make sense of this, but couldn’t.
His fuming roomie really enjoyed surprising people, but the negative side of it was making them feel stupid, or that he had Superior Knowledge and they were therefore inferior. Unbearable gloating would result. I loathed that side of him, and rarely let him get the better of me.
When I lived in Chicago in the late 80’s I had a roommate who was Black and one day I was listening to this very cd and he saw the cover and said “I thought that dude was Black!!!”
The bizarre instruments being played in the t’nail are called Serpents! They’re from th’ Renaissance.