Like it did to thousands of my fellow rain dogs this side of “PEHDTSCKJMBA,” Tom Waits’s Glitter and Doom Tour bypassed me by several hundred miles, leaving Waits firmly entrenched at the top of the list of artists I still need to see before I die or, as is the morbid truth in certain cases, before they do. Luckily for us, the forgotten and left out, NPR (National Public Radio) recorded Waits’s last U.S. tour date at Atlanta’s historic Fox Theatre and has made the entire two-and-a-half-hour show available for streaming. (This is the point where you browse away from my dumb article and enjoy Glitter and Doom in the comfort of your own computer chair. Go on. You’re excused. Class dismissed. You can always finish reading later.)

I’ve heard Waits live before but never a show in its entirety, and that’s the only way to experience him. Snippets and clips are not enough. You need to feel the ebb and flow of a Waits concert-the effortless transitions from huffing and puffing into a megaphone to crooning while sitting at a piano to telling tall tales about lost luggage, the three bullfrogs residing in his stomach, and a Nazi version of alphabet soup. No, you need it all-the good, the bad, and the downright bizarre-to have a true Waits performance. And I use the word performance purposefully, because I can think of no word save performer that comes even remotely close to encapsulating Waits’s presence and delivery on stage. And if not a performer, what then: beatbox, comedian, guitar strangler, lounge singer, demented uncle who rarely visits, interpretive dancer, storyteller, carburetor?  Take your pick.

Like the name Glitter and Doom suggests, this set has a little bit of everything, and the highlights will undoubtedly be different for each listener. “Lucky Day” on piano is a personal favorite, as are the sing-alongs led by Choir Master Tom on “Lie to Me” and “Innocent When You Dream.” An eclectic “Hoist the Rag” will make you want to revisit Real Gone, and “Cemetery Polka” is a romp that recalls the outlandish spirit of early Waits-Brennan collaborations. From the show’s opening lines of “They call me William the Pleaser” to the final gruff affirmations of “Anywhere I Lay My Head,” Waits offers his audience (and us at home) an evening of art at its finest: indescribable, unforgettable, and capable of stirring the passions within even the most dormant and reticent among us.

So, if you haven’t already, get to NPR.org and listen to, partake of, and witness whatever exactly it is that Tom Waits does. And while you’re at the site, take a look around. NPR has loads of concerts, live studio sessions, and interviews featuring your favorite musicians and artists, and it’s all free for the streaming. And here you thought public radio was only for librarians, senior citizens, and the types of people who listen to books on tape while commuting to work.

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Tags: Tom Waits