the black angel's death song

Scarlett Johansson's Anywhere I Lay My Head (2008).

The first time I saw Terry Zwigoff’s 2001 film Ghost World (an indie classic if there ever was one), I was rather taken by this Scarlett Johansson. I mean, Thora Birch is fine and all, but she’s always been annoying, and Johansson is prettier. Since then, she’s gone on to star in some fairly decent movies—2003’s Lost in Translation and 2005’s Match Point—if not in an outright masterpiece. But, chick’s 23, so I’m sure she still has it in her. Who knows? Woody Allen might even pull a fast one and remake Manhattan (1979) with Johansson as Mariel Hemingway’s Dalton senior. All of this is to say that I had no idea what to expect from Johansson’s album of Tom Waits covers, released last month under the name Anywhere I Lay My Head. I’m not exactly a big Waits fan (I own Rain Dogs [1985], but haven’t really taken it upon myself to seek out much else), but I was intrigued enough to give the album a listen. The eleven tracks on display here (the album opens with an instrumental titled “Fawn,” appropriately, I might add) are charming enough. Johansson’s not the best singer in the world, but she’s never boring to listen to either; let’s say she’s much more Nico than Joni Mitchell. The album’s title track is rightly cathartic, with Johansson delivering Waits’ brilliantly offbeat lyrics (“My heart is in my shoe/I went and set the Thames on fire”) with a considerable amount of force. “Song for Jo,” the album’s sole original song written by Johansson and producer David Andrew Sitek, finds our singer’s vocals buried under several walls of sound (some nicer than others). AILMH’s highlight, however, might very well be “I Wish I Was In New Orleans,” not least for the music box melody playing behind Johansson’s heartfelt vocals. So, then, even if this album doesn’t mark the beginning of a stunning musical career for this lovely actress, it’s also as far away from a vanity project as any of us could have hoped. If nothing else, Johansson will make you want to listen to Tom Waits again; and how could that ever be bad, really?