So In-Cline-D

I lived on nothin'
but dreams and train smoke
Somehow my watch and chain got lost
I wish I was home in Evelyn's kitchen
with old Gyp curled around my feet

As powerful as Waits' clashing Beefheart collages may be, these small, sparsely lit songs of haunted love and homesickness burrow deep into the heart, make their tramp's camp there, remind you that shared burdens -- shared through banjo, Dobro, pump organ, piano and a voice coming from the deep dark of the soul -- are about as human as human can be.

-- Roy Kasten

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