Recently Reviewed

Tom Waits

 (Orpheum, Phoenix, Ariz.; 1,364 seats; $90 top)

By PHIL GALLO

Presented by Live Nation. Opened and reviewed June 17, 2008. Closed June 18.
 
Band: Tom Waits, Omar Torrez, Seth Ford Young, Vincent Herring, Patrick Warren, Casey Waits.
 

No artist brings together a larger collection of scar-covered and demon-riddled humans in his work than Tom Waits, whose keen observations of the human condition are funneled through characters holding on dearly to thin swatches of hope. The tales and the wordplay have endeared him to several generations, which translates into a house packed with fans who were most likely not yet born when his debut was release in 1973. Waits opened his oddly routed world tour Tuesday in Phoenix with a riveting and cohesive two-hour set that felt like a reunion of oddballs, crackpots and believers telling their stories through a series of wheezes, harrumphs and shouts.

Waits took his place, as he did on the 1999 tour for "Mule Variations," on a platform at centerstage, a powdery substance covering it to fill the air with dust each time he stomped his foot. Lighting was more ambient than direct, seeping in from the sides, casting the stage in a carnival tent-like glow. A collection of megaphones, horns facing forward, adorned a backdrop that towered over bassist Seth Ford Young.

From his pulpit, Waits sang often about the religious convictions of desperate men, starting the evening with "Lucinda," a blues stomp in which the opium- and fireworks-selling protagonist is delivering his final words before he is hanged, lamenting that he'll "never see heaven or home." It's called the "Glitter and Doom" tour, but the glitter was apparently left on the tour bus this night as heavy darkness was layered so thick that a lone soprano sax solo midway through the set felt like a blinding ray of light.

In the eight songs performed before he strapped on an electric guitar, Waits sang about soldiers staking a claim for their country, a drunk awaiting salvation from Jesus, the depressing nature of November and the physical remnants of shattered romance.

For rhythms and melodies, he turned to the rumba, gospel, reggae, German cabaret and Kentucky hill music. Initially, the tunes went together like a dovetail joint, the newly formed band generating the Waitsian ruckus with precision. Vincent Herring used the Rahssan Roland Kirk technique of playing two saxes simultaneously, but while rather wildly soloing, he provided sonic wash to complement Patrick Warren's keyboards. (Once Waits had the guitar in hand, he took on some bandleader duties, even restarting "Murder in the Red Barn" at a pace slower than the band had been playing.)

The 23-song show reached back as far as 1976's "Invitation to the Blues" and 1978's "Christmas Card From a Hooker in Minneapolis," both delivered by Waits at the piano, playing a bit of latenight jazz with only the bass accompanying him. At moments during those two tunes and a few other late-in-the-show perfs, Waits slipped out of his full-on grit 'n' gravel vocal and proffered a smoother timbre that seemed more intentional than a slip; for the entire two hours, Waits never once appeared to strain vocally.

Evening also included Waits' softer side -- "Anywhere I Lay My Head"; "Innocent When You Dream," on which the audience was encouraged to sing along; and the final encore "Time" -- but none of his sound-effects-driven tunes. A nice touch. His always humorous banter focused largely on outdated state laws still on the books; apparently, there are issues regarding payments to one-armed piano players and taking lions to the movies in Arizona.

Waits' tour rolls through the South and Midwest, ending July 5 in Atlanta before a European trek starts in San Sebastian, Spain, on July 12. He has yet to schedule any dates in the Northeast or California.