Tom Waits wanders a strange path between all musical genres:
blues,
Jazz,
rock,
Vaudeville,
burlesque and, um, well, his own thing.
The path leads over steaming sewer grates, through underground cities, to religious confections with a bite. It moves through dust and dirt and pokes its grubby finger into the flared nostril of redemption.
He's been around a long time, but moves in and out of the public eye like a spangle of dark spots ringed with gold when you turn your head too quickly and haven't been breathing quite right.
About fame, Waits has said:
"I've always been afraid I was going to
tap the world on the shoulder for 20 years and when it finally turned
around, I was going to forget what I had to say."