THE TOM WAITS PROGRAM

I have a thing for voices.

No, really, I do.

My love of how we utilize our vocal apparatus to convey emotion has always been with me, but after having lived for so long in a place where words don’t matter – as I don’t understand the majority of them  - I’ve come to savour the timbre of the voices around me in a much more sincere way.

I was having a conversation with a friend the other day, and Edward James Olmos came up.

Why that’s not as weird as it sounds: I’m watching Battlestar Galactica these days, and the conversation moved from cylons, to admiration of the show’s production, to EJO.

EJO has what can only be considered an incredible speaking voice. For him, tonality is secondary to production; that production, which points at age and perhaps a sin-laden past, can portray affection, disillusion, anger, fury, and a number of other emotions and states of being while retaining the same basic production qualities that I love so dearly.

Let me provide you with examples:

Tangents aside, I mentioned to my friend that I would, on day, like to sound like EJO. I told my friend that I’d especially like to speak Tashlheit with that gruffness, but that I didn’t think I had enough time left in my service to achieve that lofty goal.

He told me that I need to forget Olmos and seek out the the Tom Waits Program: bourbon and cigars, mainly, with a little musical talent and stage presence thrown in for good measure. Step one of the Tom Waits Program, according to him, is a good ol’ fashioned YouTube search.

I think I just found my calling. After finishing my service here (which happens in 98 days, for those that are counting), I can strike attempting to save the world off of my to-do list… and promptly replace it with striving to sound like Tom Waits.