Classes were out for the summer. I was working the counter at the record store, Last Vestige.
The phone rang, and the caller asked to speak with me. This was a curious enough happening in its own right. I had a cellphone. Nobody called me there before, ever. I hesitantly took the phone.
“Is this Shrimp Cracker?”
The voice on the other end belonged to an older/elderly woman. It wasn’t my mom or one of my aunts and definitely not my grandma.
“Is this the same Shrimp Cracker from the radio station?”
Besides pushing $1 vinyl and used/promo CDs on a lukewarm public, I’d also been working that summer as Program Director for our college station.
“Oh, I can’t believe I found you! The boy on-air told me you were probably working at the record store today and he gave me the number. I’ve been trying to track you down for days.”
I was confused as shit.
“I’m trying to find out who the man is who's music has been playing in the mornings. I’ve been told there is an automated system, and his music comes on every so often. It seems there are the same records in a rotation, but I’m not sure.”
This woman (whom I’d soon learn was named Jessie) had been listening to our autobroadcast -- an MP3 playlist that the last DJ of the night would activate & would stream until the next DJ showed up the following morning. This may have been of dubious legality and taste, but it’s what we did nonetheless.
“On Monday I heard it at six in the morning, and then on Tuesday it came on at five-thirty, on Wednesday at three and then again at seven," Jessie says. "And this morning at five-thirty again. You see, I’m bed-ridden with a heart condition. I have difficulty sleeping."
The playlist had a few albums on it, maybe four or five on a loop. I preferred full LPs for the overnight robo DJ...
I ask Jessie if she can describe the music for me. “Well, my whole life I've only listened to classical and opera. But this is music like I’ve never heard before. It has a man's voice. A raspy voice. Sometimes it's scary, but then other times it can be sweet. There are a lot of train sounds... like train whistles. Sometimes he growls like a wild animal!"
I immediately knew this was the most incredible phone call I'll ever receive in my life.
"He sounds like he must be an older man. He knows a lot about life. That much is clear.”
Then Jessie -- an 80-something classical/opera fan living somewhere within our upstate NY listening radius -- leapt into her best Tom Waits impression:
“Da-doo-dah, dee-bop, ba-doo dah.... like that. But like a wild animal.”
The album Jessie was listening to was Alice, the bawly companion to the brawlier Blood Money, released in 2002. As we talked more I found out she’d didn't own a CD player, but her friend could go buy her one if it was the only way she could listen to the music. I offered to make her a cassette tape. Yes, she would like that very much, if it's not too much trouble.
I don’t know if Jessie is still alive. I never heard from her again after I gave a tape with Kinkos-copied cover art to her friend the next day (her friend was the guy who owned Reruns Consignment Shop). But I think about her every time I listen to Tom Waits. I wonder what it felt like for her that first night. Her radio dials into music from an older man who sings like a wild animal and knows a lot about life. And then another song comes on. And then another. Waiting hours for it to come back and then it does! Being sick, bedridden, sad, old... listening to songs like “I’m Still Here” and “No One Knows I’m Gone,” with lines like And if we are to die tonight, is there moonlight up ahead? or No one puts flowers on a flower's grave.
I immediately knew this was the most incredible phone call I'll ever receive in my life.
"He sounds like he must be an older man. He knows a lot about life. That much is clear.”
Then Jessie -- an 80-something classical/opera fan living somewhere within our upstate NY listening radius -- leapt into her best Tom Waits impression:
“Da-doo-dah, dee-bop, ba-doo dah.... like that. But like a wild animal.”
The album Jessie was listening to was Alice, the bawly companion to the brawlier Blood Money, released in 2002. As we talked more I found out she’d didn't own a CD player, but her friend could go buy her one if it was the only way she could listen to the music. I offered to make her a cassette tape. Yes, she would like that very much, if it's not too much trouble.
I don’t know if Jessie is still alive. I never heard from her again after I gave a tape with Kinkos-copied cover art to her friend the next day (her friend was the guy who owned Reruns Consignment Shop). But I think about her every time I listen to Tom Waits. I wonder what it felt like for her that first night. Her radio dials into music from an older man who sings like a wild animal and knows a lot about life. And then another song comes on. And then another. Waiting hours for it to come back and then it does! Being sick, bedridden, sad, old... listening to songs like “I’m Still Here” and “No One Knows I’m Gone,” with lines like And if we are to die tonight, is there moonlight up ahead? or No one puts flowers on a flower's grave.Closing time indeed.
---
Music from Orphans:
“The Return Of Jackie & Judy” (Ramones cover) from Brawlers , Disc 1
“Low Down” (Ramones cover) from Brawlers , Disc 1
“You Can Never Hold Back Spring” from Bawlers , Disc 2 (aka Eat Your Ballads)
“World Keeps Turnin” from Bawlers , Disc 2
”What Keeps Mankind Alive” from Bastards, Disc 3
From Alice (2002)
“Flower’s Grave”
“Barcarolle”
Music from Orphans:
“The Return Of Jackie & Judy” (Ramones cover) from Brawlers , Disc 1
“Low Down” (Ramones cover) from Brawlers , Disc 1
“You Can Never Hold Back Spring” from Bawlers , Disc 2 (aka Eat Your Ballads)
“World Keeps Turnin” from Bawlers , Disc 2
”What Keeps Mankind Alive” from Bastards, Disc 3
From Alice (2002)
“Flower’s Grave”
“Barcarolle”
4 comments:
That is the best story. I can just picture this old woman being gripped in the throes of Tom Waits' voice and sitting up all night scanning the dial trying to hear more and to no luck. Imagine the feeling that you heard sometihng that agreed with you so much and there is a strong possibility you will never hear it again. Shit, this woman got on top of it, making sure that would never happen. And S.C. was the messenger boy handing off the TW's tape he made her so this woman could get her fix. The Jews call that a mitzvah. It is just the perfect story.
Wow.
I remember when this went down. Shrimp cracker was telling me about it, and i straight up did not believe him. this is quite honestly one of the coolest stories to come out of the HBBB posse's time spent at WSPN. That and the cretin hop and country pie radio shows.
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