Thor Christensen

In the 20-odd years since Tom Waits last played Dallas, his music has grown more demented and, at the same time, more poignant.

Performing Monday to a packed and sweaty crowd of several thousand at the Palladium Ballroom, he split the show between ominous stomps and heart-tugging ballads – "grim reapers and grand weepers," as he once put it.

The reapers showcased his trademark baritone-from-Hades. He's always sung like he's just smoked eight packs of cigarettes, gargled with sand and swallowed a pint of battery acid. Now, at age 58, his voice has deepened so much he sounds like a Howlin' Wolf 45 played at 33 1/3.

But he can be a tender balladeer, too, as he showed in 1976's "Invitation to the Blues" and "Innocent When You Dream," a lullaby as touching as any the Gershwins ever wrote. At Mr. Waits' invitation, fans sang along to "Dream" at the top of their lungs.

As beautiful as the slow songs were, the two-hour show centered on raucous blues and oddball rants, delivered with a thespian's touch. Mr. Waits started the set flapping his arms like a giant bird and ended it by walking like Frankenstein. In between, he wore a mirrored hat that shone like a disco ball and acted out the Rain Dogs gem "Singapore" like a drunk teetering in slow motion.

Performing underneath a pair of sculptures made of megaphones, Mr. Waits was flanked by an airtight quintet featuring his son Casey Waits on percussion. From avant-garde blues to creepy Latin funk, they played everything with a swagger that bordered on demonic.

The show's only drawback was the venue. Insufficient air conditioning turned the joint into a sweatbox, and the lack of seats was inexcusable considering the ballad-heavy repertoire.

With tickets priced at $85, you'd think Mr. Waits or the promoters could afford to rent some folding chairs.

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