“There’s a common loneliness that just sprawls from coast to coast. It’s like a common disjointed identity crisis. It’s the dark, warm narcotic American night I just hope I’m able to touch that feeling before I find myself one of these days parked on Easy Street.” –TOM WAITS, 1976

THE MAN WHO HOWLED WOLF TEXT BY JONATHAN VALANIA/PHOTOS BY CHRISTIAN LANTRY The Astro is a broken-down, drunk motel located about an hour north of San Francisco in Santa Rosa, near the arid, wine-growing region of the Sonoma Valley. It’s Tom Waits country – he lives somewhere around here, although exactly where remains a closely guarded secret. MAGNET booked a room at the Astro because the price is right, but upon closer inspection, it’s the ideal setting to await an audience with the man who elevates the down and out in song. The bard of boardinghouse madrigals. The man who […]

Being John Ashcroft: ‘COME PLAY WITH US RUMMY, FOREVER AND EVER, Amen’

DEAR MISTER PHAWKER MAN, i actually started this six years ago and I JUST finished it today. WEIRD, huh? just wondering, Jay Bevenour North Philly, YO! Dear J-Bev, A little. yer pal, The Phawker   Dear The Phawker, Somewhere Rush Limbaugh sits in his skivies on his fancy bed, smearing Nancy Pelosi?s photo with feces. I can’t imagine the rabid froth the right is going to unleash on having to answer to a woman congressman representing San Francisco. But if any group of nuts needed a mommy to take them to task, it is this Republican party. Dan Buskirk The […]

LOCAL BOY MAKES GOOD: Music Man Hal Wilner Phones Home, DeLuca Accepts The Charges

On this Saturday afternoon, Willner, the record producer renowned for daring multi-artist albums such as his new The Harry Smith Project: Anthology of American Folk Music Revisited, is wearing his hat as music director of Saturday Night Live. On his desk at 30 Rock, there are Cecil Taylor and Jelly Roll Morton CDs, and across his T-shirt Chuck Berry is doing the duck walk as Willner goes about the nerve-wracking task of scoring a live television show that is being rewritten as the day goes on. […] His far-ranging musical sensibility makes Willner, 49, the perfect man for this job […]

Letter From The Editor: Hello Darkness My Old Friend

Welcome to Phawker! Please, make yourself at home. Take your shoes off, sit a spell. Beer’s in the fridge. Just leave the seat up, or down. We really don’t care. At Phawker, YOU are The Decider. But please be gentle, we are still fresh and pink from the womb, naked and shaking like a Polaroid picture just coming into focus. So by all means, come back again tomorrow. We only get better with age. Why Phawker you ask? Because, like any band worth a damn, nobody was singing the song we wanted to hear so we made up our own. […]

GRUMPY OLD MEN: A Man Called Francis

Welcome to the second installment of our Grumpy Old Men series, wherein we learn from our elders and soak up their salty yarns like Bounty Quicker Picker-Upper. Yesterday we had Robert Christgau, today Francis Davis. Tomorrow? The Pope. What’s that you say? You never heard of Francis Davis. Oh buddy, it’s good thing you found us! Check out his CV: He has written about music, film, and other aspects of popular culture for The Atlantic since 1984 and was appointed lead jazz critic for the Voice in 2004. He was jazz critic for The Philadelphia Inquirer from 1982 to 1996, […]