Invisible Hits is a column in which Tyler Wilcox scours the internet for the best (and strangest) bootlegs, rarities, outtakes, and live clips.

Tom Waits turns 70 this weekend, but with his whiskey-and-cigarettes voice and anachronistic turns of phrase, he’s been prepping for his septuagenarian phase since day one. Even so, Waits’ wizened troubadour persona hasn’t stayed entirely static. He’s managed, for the most part, to avoid schtick, keeping his audience guessing for close to five decades.

“I think inside every song there are other songs,” Waits said in 2011. “But I also think, inside your voice, there are other voices that you have yet to discover and that’s kind of why you are here.” Waits’ albums tell the story of his search for those other voices, from the boozy balladeering of Closing Time to the dark corners of Rain Dogs to the avant-blues of Real Gone. But a deeper dive into some choice rarities helps to fill in the gaps.

Early Days

Fans who have grown accustomed to Waits’ ever-deepening rasp may be shocked to hear the relatively velvety tones of his pre-fame days. Check out his first demos, recorded in 1971, on the two-volume Early Years series, which features some lovelorn ballads destined for his first few albums. More revealing are Waits’ appearances on L.A. radio station KPFK’s “Folk Scene” program, with the songwriter’s skills as a barstool raconteur on full display during the interview segments. Playing it fast and loose with fact and fiction, he already had a fully developed character in mind. But one of the more interesting rarities from this period is a little bit out of character: the never-reissued 1974 single “Blue Skies,” a creamy slice of AM-radio pop that features Waits’ mellow vocals soaring over a bed of lush strings, cooing backup singers, and smooth sax.

His German Concert Film from 1977

For a glimpse of Waits in all his mid-’70s glory, look no further than this 80-minute performance that aired on the Rockpalast TV show. Opening with a rapid-fire recitation of “Step Right Up,” Waits and his band instantly transform the sterile German studio into a smoky, seedy nightclub. The entire show is a tour de force performance, as Waits expertly mixes beat-poet flow with gravel-voiced laments, jazz noir with jokes. There’s also a hint of the surrealism that would come to the fore in his later years: With its fragmented imagery and haunted scenes, closing song “Tom Traubert’s Blues” transports that smoky nightclub to someplace much stranger.

Tom on the Tube

Over the years, Waits has caught the attention of some great directors, appearing in films by Jim Jarmusch, Francis Ford Coppola, the Coen Brothers, and more. But first, he sharpened his charisma by showing up on a wide variety of talk shows. These appearances are always enormously entertaining, whether he’s dealing with the earnest befuddlement of Mike Douglas or the in-on-the-joke vibes of Fernwood 2 Night with Martin Mull and Fred Willard (“Take a load off your act!” Mull quips). Waits had an especially strong rapport with David Letterman, stretching from 1983 to the late-night host’s farewell shows in 2015. Handily collected into an hour-and-45-minute supercut, these irreverent Letterman/Waits summits are as good as after-hours television gets.

The Weird(er) Years

Waits met musician Kathleen Brennan in the late ’70s while both were working on Coppola’s extravagant flop One From The Heart. The pair married in 1980, but it wasn’t just a romantic partnership—Brennan soon became Waits’ closest collaborator, credited as a co-writer and producer on several of his albums. “I’ve learned a lot from her,” Waits said in 1988. “She’s Irish Catholic. She’s got the whole dark forest living inside of her. She pushes me into areas I would not go, and I’d say that a lot of the things I'm trying to do now, she's encouraged.” Beginning with 1982’s Swordfishtrombones, Waits’ music grew increasingly angular and abrasive, more Beefheart than Bukowski. This approach crept into his live show as well. Check out the performance above, from 1986: Many of the songs are familiar, but Waits’ piano often drifts into abstract Monk-ian zones. During “Walking Spanish,” he stands alone at the mic, striking a stone slab with a hammer.

The Black Rider

The singer’s flirtations with the avant-garde came to fruition when he teamed up with experimental theater director Robert Wilson and legendary author William Burroughs for The Black Rider, an operatic rendering of age-old German folktales. Waits released a companion album for it in 1993, but for a fuller experience of this collaboration, dive into a television broadcast of the production. The disorienting sets, bizarre costumes, and Waits’ Brecht/Weill-inspired songs combine to create a beautiful but disturbing dreamscape. Waits would go on to work with Wilson on several other projects, including Alice, an opera loosely based on the life and work of Lewis Carroll, for which Waits released another stellar companion album (though die-hards prefer the unreleased demos).

Live at the End of the Century

Waits’ pace slowed considerably in the ’90s, but following 1999’s Mule Variations, he hit the road once again. The excellent audience recording above shows that he hadn’t grown rusty during his time off. Backed by a band that includes ace guitarist Smokey Hormel, the songwriter relishes in uncovering a wealth of “other voices,” from the hair-raising carnival barker of “The Black Rider” to the reassuring friend of “Hold On.” Wildest of all is his unhinged, Howlin’ Wolf-reborn intro to “Jesus Gonna Be Here,” a performance soaked in the deepest of blues. “There are days that your voice is unmanageable, like bad-hair days,” Waits said in 1999. “You can’t get it to lay down or stick up. You have a relationship with it. You use it to transmit delicate information … and some days you can't do a single thing with it.”

Closing Time?

The past decade has found Waits in a state of semi-retirement. He’s only released one new record, 2011’s Bad As Me, and he seems to have given up touring, appearing only at the odd benefit or on live duets with the likes of Mavis Staples and the Stones. Whether or not he’ll tour again is anyone’s guess, but Waits’ impish spirit at least remains firmly in place: Last year, he attended a Jack White show in San Francisco—and stole the guy’s watch!