Without abandoning his classic formula junkyard percussion, loose-limbed blues licks, and that unmistakable mouth-of-hell baritone Waits keeps pulling switcheroos out of his porkpie hat on his 20th album. Keith Richards drops in some rambling six-string on ''Chicago,'' and few ballads weep as profoundly as ''Pay Me.'' One thing you can't fake: Waits' personal universe, full of carnies, dust, tears, whiskey, and hope. And yes, a whole lot of growling. A-
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Slinky, shuffling Chicago
Standout wailer Hell Broke Luce

