Late night confessions
A glass of whiskey, a date gone wrong, the solitude when the party is over and the guests go home: a troubled mind, a broken heart, and two men who can sing the blues
My friend
from has a Monday tradition of sharing his latest playlist and asking his readers what they have been listening to. I love sharing what I’ve been spinning and reading about what’s caught the ears of fellow readers and writers.Recently I commented that, whilst spinning Sam Cooke’s Night Beat album, I thought “man, what a singer”, and immediately afterwards, when playing The Heart of Saturday Night by Tom Waits, I felt exactly the same.
How can two very different singers trigger the same reaction? What do these records — a decade and, in some respects, a world apart — have in common? And what’s all this got to do with vinyl?
Night Beat (1963) was conceived after one of Sam’s live performances. Once the audience was gone, Sam would come out to jam with a few of his musicians or a cappella. The waiters often stopped to listen, in awe of his talent. It was the spirit of these late night impromptu sessions that inspired the album.
The Heart of Saturday Night (1974) is Tom’s second album. Few records encapsulate so well the beauty of a broken heart by the neon sign of a side street bar. The storytelling is masterful, unassumingly poetic and desperately authentic.
Put together, these records are quite similar. Yes, they are both bluesy, slightly melancholic, predominantly acoustic, and focus on what happens (and doesn’t) when the party is over, the guests are gone and the night demons creep in.
But there’s something else.
Sam’s technical brilliance (his resonance and vowel placements are the envy of every singer) and Tom’s daring insouciance at the microphone manage to meet in the middle with a careless, raspy, and unashamedly raw sound.
Both albums tell the story of a man who likes his women, drink and cigar. A gambler in life and in love. Too wayward to fit in, too messed up to settle down. Too free to care. Too broken not to.
The beauty of these sparsely produced and profoundly intimate records lies in the simplicity of the delivery: passionate, desolate, a bit cocky, and just real.
Vinyl is ideal to connect with these men’s misfortunes and adventures. You can stream them whilst on the move, but the experience won’t be the same.
These records invite you to sit back, favourite drink in hand (or cigar, if so inclined), and have a moment with them. And with yourself.
Next time you come back home after a messy night out, perhaps feeling a bit troubled, or questioning your life choices, put these records on and be at peace with your darkness.
If nothing else, you’ll hear yourself saying “man, what a singer”. And that should be good enough.
Thanks for reading/listening. Happy spinning!
Thank you for the kind words and signal boost! That thread is some of the best reading I do all week. I love seeing what everyone's been playing!
As for Cooke and Waits; one would be hard pressed to find 2 artists more suited to vinyl than these two. A Tom Waits Spotify list just doesn't hit the same.
A very nice writing, Andres.