You’d haveta stretch yer Waitin’ allowance a long way to catch a glimpse of Tom in the Big Smoke these days. So pronounced seems his aversion to Lunnun’s finest auditoria that your intrepid correspondent hopped the Not-so-Easy flier to Ol’ Praha in hope of catchin’ the Raindog hitchin’ a rear leg, spinnin’ his yarns of death, dreams and delirium and flailin’ them wild, windmill limbs, and bugger the consequences.

     Briefly, on this scandalously erratic and audaciously exotic tour, there is a defiant note of bewilderment in the Republic that The Glitter and Doom Extravaganza should visit Prague not once but twice. The furtive glances of those of us who’ve shuffled off the workaday chains in parts disdained and coughed up the coupla quids for to see the Eyeball Kid only add to the bristling tension.

     And even if it was more than a ton of squids, y’gotta hand it to the Man, he knows howta lead a band, to put on a show. With a Johnny Cash suit and a Glitterball Hat, Magic Tricks aplenty and perched atop his very own Dirtbox, The Scarecrow Maestro reeled in his band of multi-instrumentalists and the multi-national crowd alike with hard earned ease, letting us all out with a well exercised will, an accomplished understanding. And tho’ the oddly named Borman 6 (did I count 7?) might not’ve been of the Taylor/Ribot Marque, they allowed Mister Waits the full scope necessary to exercise a Sudeten range of songsmithery in a panoply of tempi and dance patterns.  And tho’ the pace and rhythm were always at the beck and call of his spread-eagled extremities, the palpable delight of those in attendance, the seething volcano of encouragement and joy, must’ve been a boon to one not prone to hit the road with any frequency.  In a set that couldn’t’ve hoped to contain anyone’s, let alone everyone’s, faves the standouts for this ‘dog were “Hoist that Rag” “Innocent” “Eyeball Kid” “Jesus gonna be here” and “Dirt in the Ground”. Truth be told, everything was received with fervent joy and rapturous applause and these were not the uninitiated.

     Waits is a man who’s music and public persona seem all jagged angles/ shattered fractures, of both acute and obtuse divergences, and yet within are curves and arcs of grace and hope that spin and weave through the fractured weft with a wit and style that’re both headstrong and deft. You will not catch his like elsewhere: The marriage of Vaudeville and Beat, the intertwining Afro-American sounds with loquacious wordplay, of  warped and forgotten Dances to subconscious Frightmares, the telling of Truth through atrocious lying and all of this allied to a performance style stolen from the Circus Gimp when he was still able to ply his trade, make Tom in any incarnation a Unique event.

     If y’haven’t seen the Man in a while you’d better hope ‘n’ pray he returns soon, if y’ve never seen him then heed this refrain:

              “See Tom Waits afore ye die,

                  And with a smile you may lie.”