Merry Waitsmas drunks and drunkettes! Yes, tis the season when all islanders forsake God and turn their eyes to the gutter in worship of the one true king: Tom Waits. This week we’re flying guestless so we can get down and dirty with the first half of his career, watching as a Brill Building jazzbo blooms into some sort of horrifying junkyard scarecrow preacher man. If you’ve ever wondered what it sounds like when an iconoclast is still trying to find their voice, the line of albums from Closing Time to Rain Dogs is a good place to start. But it’s also filled with some of the most genuinely beautiful work of his career, packed with bawling ballads and jazzy improv that would fall to the wayside later in his career. So join us as we inaugurate the actual most wonderful time of the year, and maybe—just maybe—learn a little bit about ourselves. Also: Andrew seeks help for his Much Music fever dream, the Melvoin Alert returns, and we all hear the story of how baby Max met the reason for the season.