Martin Pengelly’s insightful piece draws a compelling parallel between the gritty lyricism of Tom Waits and the sharp-eyed poetry of August Kleinzahler. While acknowledging Kleinzahler’s critique of Waits’ theatricality, Pengelly champions Waits’ unique ability to blend the seamy underbelly of American life with an elevated, almost Brechtian artistry. This essay will delve deeper into one particular gem from Waits’ discography, “How’s It Gonna End,” from his 2004 album Real Gone, exploring its lyrical depth, musical texture, and enduring appeal.
Pengelly notes Kleinzahler’s reservations about Waits, quoting the poet’s assertion that Waits “overwrites more often than not and seems to have gotten stuck on his make-believe seamy stage set.” Kleinzahler, rooted in a more realist tradition, finds Waits’ persona and subject matter sometimes contrived. Indeed, songs like “The Piano Has Been Drinking” or “Jockey Full of Bourbon” embrace a theatrical, almost cartoonish portrayal of barflies and lowlifes. However, Pengelly counters by positioning Waits as an expressionist, one who exaggerates reality to create a heightened artistic experience, akin to Brecht or Weill.
This perspective is crucial for understanding “How’s It Gonna End.” On the surface, the song appears deceptively simple. Built upon a minimalist instrumentation of shuffling drums, chopped guitar, banjo, and stand-up bass, the music creates a murky, late-night atmosphere. Penned with his wife and longtime collaborator Kathleen Brennan, the lyrics initially paint a familiar noir landscape: a worn-out car, dwindling dollars, and a wife leaving with “lipstick on the glass.”
But beneath this veneer of pulp fiction lies a deeper exploration of existential anxieties. Pengelly astutely points out the Cormac McCarthy-esque elements, with mentions of characters like Joel Tornabene “broken on the wheel” and Shane and Bum Mahoney “on the lamb.” The lyrics evoke a world of motels, dark lakes, and lurking danger. The line “There’s a killer and he’s coming thru the rye” immediately conjures a sense of unease and hidden threats. Waits’ delivery, gravelly and world-weary, further enhances the song’s shadowy ambiance.
The song’s genius resides in its central refrain: “I wanna know the same thing / Everyone wants to know / How’s it going to end.” This simple yet profound question transcends the immediate narrative of the song. It becomes a universal inquiry about fate, mortality, and the uncertain trajectory of life itself. Is it about the ending of a relationship, a criminal enterprise, or something far grander? The ambiguity is deliberate and potent.
Pengelly argues that while Kleinzahler might see Waits’ early work as overly influenced by the Beats and Bukowski, this very “pulpish, loose, boozy, menacing and allusive” quality is where Waits’ genius lies. He operates on the edge of cliché but never succumbs to it. “How’s It Gonna End” is a road song, a genre ripe with clichés, yet Waits transforms it into something uniquely his own. It’s a testament to his ability to inhabit and transcend genre tropes simultaneously.
The song culminates in a final verse that Pengelly rightly identifies as echoing Kleinzahler’s poetic sensibility:
The sirens are snaking their
Way up the hill
It’s last call somewhere in
The world
The reptiles blend in with the
Color of the street
Life is sweet at the edge
Of a razor
And down in the first row of
An old picture show
The old man is asleep
As the credits start to roll.
This verse is a masterclass in evocative imagery. The “sirens snaking up the hill” paint a vivid picture of urban unease. “Last call somewhere in the world” adds a touch of global melancholy. “Reptiles blend in with the color of the street” creates a sense of hidden danger lurking in plain sight. The line “Life is sweet at the edge of a razor” is a stark and unforgettable encapsulation of the precariousness of existence. Finally, the image of the “old man asleep as the credits start to roll” is a poignant meditation on mortality and the cyclical nature of stories ending and beginning.
Pengelly connects these lines to San Francisco, Kleinzahler’s territory, and to the poet’s themes of urban decay and fleeting moments of beauty amidst the grit. The references to “jazz club,” “crappy bar,” and “lo mein counter” ground the abstract anxieties in concrete, everyday settings. This blending of the specific and the universal is a hallmark of both Waits and Kleinzahler’s art.
In conclusion, “How’s It Gonna End” is more than just a noirish tale of crime and desperation. It’s a profound meditation on the fundamental human question of endings and beginnings. Through its evocative lyrics, minimalist arrangement, and Waits’ inimitable delivery, the song resonates with a timeless and universal appeal. Whether Kleinzahler fully appreciates Waits’ artistry or not, “How’s It Gonna End” stands as a powerful testament to Waits’ unique ability to transform the “seamy reality” of life into compelling and enduring art. It’s a song that stays with you, prompting you to ponder the very question it poses: how is it gonna end?
