Released:  April 16th, 1999

Recorded:  1998

Genre:  Rock, Folk

Record Label:  ANTI-

Duration:  70:33

Producers:  Kathleen Brennan, Tom Waits

Personnel

Track Listing

Singles

Why Mule Variations is One of My Favorites

So far, the majority of these albums have been from my adolescence and early college years.  Not to say that I don’t still give several of these a spin from time to time, especially in the car, but music in general just doesn’t play as big of a role in my life as it did.  For issue #50, I’ve been saving up Tom Waits’ Mule Variations, a 90’s album that actually speaks to more of my adult side than my teenage side.  In fact, I think one needs to have been through a little of the tragedy, happiness, and madness that can only come after the teenage years to really grasp some of this material.

I didn’t discover Mule Variations until about 5 years ago.  As a teenager I had been at least aware of Tom Waits, primarily because of “Innocent When You Dream” being featured near the end of the film Smoke, and later “Pony,” which I can’t remember how I came across, though it turns out that “Pony” is from this very album.  But unlike a lot of unique songs (and “Innocent When You Dream” is certainly unique if you’ve never heard Tom Waits), I never followed up.  In a lot of ways, I’m actually glad I was a little bit older before I heard Mule Variations.  Since then I’ve made my way through much of Waits’ main catalog, from his early folk/country days right up through his experimental trio of albums and the widely acclaimed Bone Machine.  They’ve all got something to offer, but for me, Mule Variations is more grounded, more organized, less absurdist.  The music is simpler, more straightforward, and Waits’ songwriting skill shines without the distractions of challenging song structures and strange noises.

I don’t even know where to start with this record.  It’s all at once beautiful, haunting, hopeful, depressing, and sometimes outright scary.  I can’t speak much for the overall cohesion of the album except to say that it’s got an obvious Tom Waits flavor, but most tracks carve out their own spot and stand distinctly from one another.  What I tend to find most interesting when reading about Mule Variations is how differently it’s processed by fans, even fans that have been into Waits for years.  It’s fascinating to see someone cast off 3 or 4 tracks as “the album’s only filler” while the next person singles out those exact 3 or 4 tracks as the best on the record.  Regardless of what stands out, something is sure to, no matter who you are.

One of my favorite facets of Mule Variations is this image that Waits builds up of himself.  Sometimes he sounds like a wise, ancient sage sitting on top of a mountain offering timeless advice on things like life and love…other times he’s a raving lunatic, drunk, uninhibited, spouting off about any and everything as it crosses his mind.  And there’s more.  Maybe he’s a regular guy, maybe he’s a deranged hermit with fanatical leanings, maybe he’s a downtrodden nomad with some unspeakable burden, or maybe he’s a performer bent on a bizarre form of entertainment imbued with his own personal brand of humor.  He wears so many masks throughout the album yet also brings all of these together in some way as well.  It always amazes me as I try to listen to the “different people” singing these songs; Waits certainly embodies the essence of both singer/songwriter and storyteller.

At the core of any Tom Waits album is the man’s voice.  He often sounds strained and gravely.  Those who’ve never heard him are in for a surprise while those that have are likely to remember their first time hearing this strange, broken voice and how it actually manages to work.  I’m curious as to how much of it is natural or forced, but either way, it comprises the soul of any of his records.  From his bassy murmuring, to soft, lullaby-like singing, to his erratic style of shouting, and all the way to his booming, weirdly operatic wailing, he’s always pushing this unusual voice of his in different directions.  It’s a tough and gristly voice, made up of leather and nails and beetles.  If you could somehow make a broken speaker produce a pleasant sound, despite the speaker still being broken, that’s how I imagine Waits voice.  It’s kind of “broken” with most of its functionality intact, with the resulting imperfections giving the vocals their own unique character.

If there’s one small downside, it’s probably the length.  Some of the songs meander a minute too long, but I’m unsure as if any need to be cut entirely.  As I mentioned earlier, it’s interesting that there are no universally shunned tracks.  Some listeners’ favorites are other’s least favorites and in that regard I feel like the record should be left as is.  Listening to all of Mule Variations is a heavy experience; I usually prefer to jump around to different tracks depending on my mood.  I’m not going to do a track-by-track here, but I do want to take a moment to highlight some of my favorites from this monolith of music.

“Hold On” is a beautiful, bittersweet love song from a different time.  It’s one of Waits’ most accessible songs, in fact, you might’ve heard it in The Walking Dead’s third season.  (Beth begins singing it in the prison before it transitions over to the actual Tom Waits version near the end of the episode…it’s the 11th episode I believe.)  It’s got a folky, country feel to it and shows of Waits’ voice at its most tender.  It hits the highs and lows of love; “God bless your crooked little heart,” and “I miss your broken china voice,” touch on the imperfections that people tend to cling to most, while lyrics such as, “when you share my bed you share my name” highlight a bygone era of “togetherness” lost in today’s postmodern concept of love and affection.

The songs “The House Where Nobody Lives,” “Georgia Lee,” and “Picture Frame” are soft, ancient-sounding piano ballads.  Waits paints spectacular images of loss with these songs, and it’s easy to be quickly swept up in this abandoned, loveless house or the sad story of Georgia Lee herself.  There’s an emptiness that’s hard to put into words – even a song about an old house weighs heavily with emotion.  Due to the recording process, a lot of incidental noises are picked up on Mule Variations, and “Picture in a Frame” is one of the best examples.  You can hear the creaking wood of the piano, the pedals being pushed and released, and slight shifting of the musicians.  It gives the song a personality, a life of its own, as it does several other songs.

“Cold Water” is one of the most fun songs on the album.  Waits wails away, croaking, growling, shouting his way through this bizarre ode to vagrancy.  He walks a thin line between humorous lunacy and a nightmarish detachment from what we would consider “normal.”  What sound to be pots and pans provide the sparse percussion; Waits’ grating, abrasive, sharp vocals carry most of the track though we do get a blues-inspired guitar solo to round out the lazy feel.  I love the small echoes/overdubs of his voice bouncing in from time to time (most noticeable as he says “I’m reading the bible by a 40 watt bulb”).  “Cold Water” is at once playful and horrific, with lyrics like “I look 47 but I’m 24” and “slept in the graveyard it was cool and still / cool and still / it was cool and still” and “well I sleep like a baby with the snakes and the bugs.”

“Filipino Box Spring Hog” is one of those tracks I was talking about earlier – some people cast it off as one of the album’s weaker moments while others hail it as a standout.  I’m with the latter group on this one.  It takes the touch of madness that makes “Cold Water” so alluring and cranks up the intensity…cranks it way up.  It’s a song about a guy cooking a pig, unless I’ve really missed something here.  But Waits puts on his most deranged voice for this cut, and I can just imagine some crazy ass man jumping around and performing this “ritual” as the pinnacle of some breed of backwoods culture.  It’s less about what he says than how he says it…I really don’t know what more to say.  This must be heard to be believed.  There’s an excellent instance where he says “Jesus Christ” as “juh-HEE-ZEE-us chr-eye-st” not to be missed.

“Come on Up to the House” takes inspiration from the gospel music of the Southeastern US.  It’s uplifting, bombastic, and a great closer to the album.  Waits is still gruff and gravely on this one, but he’s loud and forceful as well, and the combination lends credence to its authenticity.

Mule Variations also contains a number of witty and sarcastic cuts like “Chocolate Jesus,” “Big in Japan,” and “Eyeball Kid.”  Like “Cold Water” and “Filipino Box Spring Hog” it’s easy to laugh at first, but the humor turns into a weird sort of fear.  The concept is fully realized in the “anti-track” “What’s He Building?”  It isn’t really a song, more like a skit, but worth a listen now and again nonetheless.  Waits plays “The Voice,” a passive observer to a neighbor’s construction project.  The story unfolds over three and a half minutes, growing ever more ominous.  I’m not convinced that something like this belongs on an album full of music, but it is an effective piece of storytelling.  The implication is that the “He” is involved in something supremely bizarre, possibly evil.  Serial killer with an evil bunker?  An alien constructing some malicious contraption?  A device for harnessing the supernatural?  The mysterious tale remains a complete mystery.

There is so much to hear in Mule Variations, especially for those of us (like myself) who are used to more conventional music.  And even though the music here isn’t conventional, it’s accessible, beautiful, and mature.  Immaturity and pretentiousness add a pedestrian quality to even the best music, though it’s o be expected.  That’s simply what popular music is and how it sells, and I don’t fault it.  The point is that Waits transcends this without going too far outside the lines.  The “average Waits fan”  (assuming there is such a thing) will point to Rain Dogs, Bone Machine, or maybe even his first album, Closing Time, as the best of the best, but for me, Mule Variations hits the narrow middle ground between Waits’ folky years and his no holds barred experimental work.  And if you’ve yet to dig into Tom Waits, Mule Variations is definitely the best place to start.

Written by The Cubist

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