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On an album of Tom Waits covers one should rightly expect some derelict bravado and gruff to make it a credible cover album. But when the vocals are delivered by the divine Scarlett Johansson, you’re already treading in different waters. Add music which offers deeply layered and evocative soundscapes from a deft lineup of musicians that includes members of Yeah, Yeah, Yeahs, TV on the Radio, and a guest appearance by David Bowie, and you’ve got something altogether different than one would expect on a Tom Waits cover album.
Fans of the old storyteller won’t recognize some of these versions. Instead, at least on a few notable tracks, fans of bands like Cocteau Twins, This Mortal Coil,and Dead Can Dance will recognize derivative and signature sounds from these mainstays of the venerable bands from the 4AD music label. On this her first musical venture aware from the big screen, Scarlett approaches the art of music by re-envisioning Tom’s old songs with both purpose and pensive respect for the artist she covers.
--Lucas Hilbert
On the day Academy Award-nominated actress Scarlett Johansson was born, Tom Waits was holed up in an L.A. studio knocking off the final gin-soaked lines of Rain Dogs, his near-perfect album of 1985. That Johansson’s cool enough to be a fan of Waits’ character-driven songs and distinct rasp is one thing; choosing to cover 10 of his songs for her first album (and naming it after the lone Rain Dogs selection) could be downright precarious. Expect the robust voice that is her big-screen reputation, which, after the kick-off instrumental “Fawn” (Alice, 2002), makes its debut on Town With No Cheer (Swordfish Trombones, 1983). Backed by a Waits-like orchestra of pump organ, vibes, horns and wind chimes, Johansson pulls off her best performances on the songs that beg for her persona. She makes “Big Time” (Big Time, 1988) and “I Wish I Was In New Orleans” (Small Change, 1976) sound like her own, finding irony in the respective lines “Come from St. Petersburg, Scarlett and me” and “By the whiskers on my chin, New Orleans, I’ll be there.” The latter, led merely by a music box, is the record’s finest, leaving a Waits fan to wonder what Johansson could do with “Tango Til They’re Sore” or “The Piano Has Been Drinking.” Trouble arises when arrangements are altered—“I Don’t Want To Grow Up” sounds like Blondie, circa 1981”—but, all in all, it’s a nice effort. --Scott Holter
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