Wild Years by Jay S. Jacobs

Author:Jay S. Jacobs
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: BIO004000, MUS029000, MUS003000
Publisher: ECW Press
Published: 2006-01-28T16:00:00+00:00

9

THE LARGE PRINT GIVETH, AND

THE SMALL PRINT TAKETH AWAY

Tom Waits abides by a number of moral principles. This one is close to the top of his list: no musician should be an adman — a pitchman, a huckster. Musicians weren’t put on this Earth to sell you a complete car paint job for just $29.99. Let someone else move the beer, the antiperspi-rant, the corn chips off the shelves.

Waits has always been exceptionally outspoken on the subject of musicians peddling their songs to Wall Street, but he’s bucked the trend. In today’s music world, few artists will resist the double allure of money and exposure. Even the most respected musicians now drink freely from the Devil’s cup. Eric Clapton sang that “After Midnight” he’s gonna let it all hang out and chug a frosty Michelob. And you couldn’t see Sting in concert if you used an American Express card: Sting only accepts Visa. The stage sets for the last few Rolling Stones’ tours have been billboard extravaganzas. Dylan’s “The Times They Are A-Changin’” has been used to shill for a bank.

Tom Waits isn’t having any of that crap. He expressed his frustration at what was going on to Mark Rowland of Musician back in 1987, and his sarcasm was lethal: “It’s amazing, when I look at those artists. I find it unbelievable that they finally broke into the fascinating and lucrative world of advertising after years on the road, making albums, and living in crummy apartments. Finally advertising opened up and gave them a chance for what they really wanted to do, which was salute and support a major American product, and have that name blinking over their head as they sing. I think it’s wonderful what advertising has done, giving them these opportunities to be spokesmen for Chevrolet, Pepsi, etc.”1

Given that the ad industry is notoriously voracious for novelty and fresh content, it’s little wonder that Tom Waits, the great resister, was approached to sell his talents. “I get it all the time,” he continued to Rowland, “and they offer people a whole lot of money. Unfortunately, I don’t want to get on the bandwagon. You know, when a guy is singing to me about toilet paper — you may need the money but, I mean, rob a 7-11! Do something with dignity and save us all the trouble of peeing on your grave. I don’t want to rail at length here, but it’s like a fistula to me. If you subscribe to your own credibility, to the point where you do your own work, and then somebody puts decals all over it, it no longer carries the same weight . . . I really am against the people who allow their music to be nothing more than a jingle for jeans or Bud. But, I say, ‘Good, okay, now we know who you are.’ ’Cause it’s always money. There have been tours endorsed, encouraged, and financed by Miller, and I say, ‘Why don’t you just get an office at Miller? Start really workin’ for the guy.

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