When in Dublin this weekend (for the amazing Hedwig gig, review on way) I started listening to a lot of my Tom Waits stuff and really started appreciating him more when it was just me, my iPod and the blur of Dublin crowds. There’s something to be said for locking yourself away from distractions when trying to indulge in music. Or walk in solitude with headphones. Anyway, the song Martha really really stuck out for me and here are the lyrics for us all to sing along to:
Operator, number, please:
it’s been so many years
Will she remember my old voice
while I fight the tears?
Hello, hello there, is this Martha?
this is old Tom Frost,
And I am calling long distance,
don’t worry ’bout the cost.
‘Cause it’s been forty years or more,
now Martha please recall,
Meet me out for coffee,
where we’ll talk about it all.And those were the days of roses,
poetry and prose and Martha
all I had was you and all you had was me.
There was no tomorrows,
we’d packed away our sorrows
And we saved them for a rainy day.And I feel so much older now,
and you’re much older too,
How’s your husband?
and how’s the kids?
you know that I got married too?
Lucky that you found someone
to make you feel secure,
‘Cause we were all so young and foolish,
now we are mature.And those were the days of roses,
poetry and prose and Martha
all I had was you and all you had was me.
There was no tomorrows,
we’d packed away our sorrows
And we saved them for a rainy day.And I was always so impulsive,
I guess that I still am,
And all that really mattered then
was that I was a man.
I guess that our being together
was never meant to be.
And Martha, Martha,
I love you can’t you see?And those were the days of roses,
poetry and prose and Martha
all I had was you and all you had was me.
There was no tomorrows,
we’d packed away our sorrows
And we saved them for a rainy day.And I remember quiet evenings
trembling close to you…
Even if you’re only playing Martha in your head, you can still achieve that same effect when walking in crowds. Grapefruit Moon is similar in that respect. Martha’s probably my favourite Waits song. It’s surely the pinnaclel of his earlier stuff, which means it’s surely his best song. He wrote that at the age of 19, which is pretty depressing for the rest of us.
I guess that our being together
was never meant to be.
And Martha, Martha,
I love you can’t you see?
That’s the winning lyric, without it – and its yelped “seeeee?” – the song loses a lot.
19? Holy crapola! Though Shane McGowan was writing fantastic lyrics at such a young age too.
Great to see you yesterday (and glad you got to meet Disco Fred).
I’m aware of Mr Waits without really knowing his work, so I’ll check him out properly based on your post. Spookily, I composed my blog on Shane McGowan last night.
Goosepimples! Every time. Even just reading the lyrics. I disagree with Kevin though, for me the killer lines are “I was always… so impulsive. I guess that I still am”. It really enscapulates that doomy adolesent notion that the fresnness of life would inevitably ebb away the longer you outlived Shelley and Keats.
It’s a brilliant, simple piano ballad, I just wish he’d kept knocking these out instead of barking over noise experiments in an avant guarde fashion
Most of us have a Martha in our past and this song takes that experience and melds it with the profound loneliness being endured by the writer to produce one of the most moving songs I know.
Superb song; sadly I lost the CD from Closing Time a while back (before I had a chance to put it on my iPod)…. keep meaning to buy it again (not like it’s going for much).
The CD case still resides on my CD rack, which is too small to fit everthing I have… the album is so damn good it deserves to be there, even if I can’t listen to it!
“It’s a brilliant, simple piano ballad, I just wish he’d kept knocking these out instead of barking over noise experiments in an avant guarde fashion”
It is indeed a lovely ballad but I have to say I love his barking tracks as well. Raindogs was the first Tom Waits album I ever got into and remains my favourite…and if anything, I find the earlier stuff a little tame.
Having said that though, the soundtrack album he did with Crystal Gayle (One from the heart) is a thing of beauty…
His lyrics are still amazing, but the albums as a whole are not what they once were. However as i wasnt even born when he was making his early music I’ve never looked at his works cronologicaly. “Step right up” is just fantastic, but I equally like “poor Edward”. Bette Midler ruind Martha for me forever.
Looking at his tv appearances he has gained a certain charm over the years. You tube has a wondwerful selection
Early Waits: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R_0E7x3Nqys
My Fav: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4SabkryD460
Tom on Letterman: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A7K7451NLOs
Fishing with John: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C6Q5KEHkDUs
Tom Reads Bukowski: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fxjvUT1zw_w
Maybe I am showing my age but my Tom Waits collection is on vinyl. Swordfish Trombones, Tom Trauberts Blues, Closing Times to name but a few. Excellent!
See, I’d vote for a guy that has Closing Time on vinyl.
As would I, as long as the copy that was used most often was on their ipod.
I disagree with Kevin though, for me the killer lines are “I was always… so impulsive. I guess that I still am�.
Hmm, I always felt that that line, and the proceeding line “all that really mattered then, was that I was a man,” felt a little bit forced – the rhyme in particular. Not that that diminishes its actuall meaning; that you’ve namedropped Shelley and Keats intimidates me to some extent! By contrast, the entire song, I think, is built around, “I love you can’t you see?” There’s a sense of inevitability about it, while its monotone fits the metre so simply reflecting, surely, the simplicity of the declaration.
But yes, goosepimples. I read a Nabokov quote recently which I will paraphrase (no doubt poorly). “The fit reader reads not with his brain, nor his heart, but with his back, waiting for that tell-tale tingle between his shoulder blades.” I guess it applies to the fit music listener too, or for that matter, any art.
Seamus, I’ll give you a tenner for the lot 😀
I have to say I love Wait’s older stuff but a lot of his newer stuff is enjoyable too, maybe a little bit more hit and miss but songs like Fish and Bird on Alice are beautiful.
Also Day After Tomorrow on RealGone is superb, not melodically brilliant or anything but really poignant all the same
Kevin: I can see where you’re coming from and it’s a good interpretation but I have a more cynical take on the song’s sentiments. I see it as a snapshot from an ageing mans’ dark night of the soul with the pervading mood being pathos and self serving regret. What on earth does he expect Martha to do? Leave her husband and kids because of one despairing phone call, or just to take pity on him because he’s no longer young and foolish with many mistakes left to make. Whether I get this impression because of, or in spite of, the song’s structure I’m not sure, as I’m not really that familiar with the rest of Waits’ writing (see barking comment above). Basically I like it because it has a lovely tune and there are no high notes so you can sing along without making a twat of yourself..
Goose pimples have no regard for our professed sensibilities, I get them reading the final page of “the Dead� and that bit in Casablanca where they all start singing the Marseileisse but also whenever I hear Fernando by Abba (hope this makes up for mentioning Shelley and Keats).
Hmm, I’ve never really looked at Martha from that perspective – that the narrator is a shit-stirrer. He is, without doubt, selfish. I would say he is pathetic too, but that word has drifted away from its origins in the word pathos into something altogether more malicious. However, I don’t believe he expects anything of the call. Remember, he too is married – or was, though there’s nothing to suggest is no longer. I’d hazard that the monologue is merely a token gesture. Perhaps they parted on bad terms and he wants to put that right before he dies, perhaps he hurt her.
As far as singing a lot and not looking like a twat? Well… the opposite, I’ve found, is perfectly possible, especially when you can’t play the piano. But try anyway.
Goose pimples don’t have any regard for all this, I agree. Yet I continue, for reasons unknown. Steinbeck really whores the tingles out in his short stories, and Lost in Translation is not without its tingle moments (hope this makes up for mentioning Nabokov).
Wonderful Song. And a very sad one too, a classic. Tim Buckley’s version is the most beautiful one, doew away with a set of lyrics that seems redundant too (where Waits goes “now we are mature”), lovely string and Tim’s delivery is unparalled as usual.