Forget everything you may or may not have heard about Tiny Tim. If it exists in your mind, erase the memory of his novelty hit from 1968. Now think about him as a human encyclopedia of popular song — a Manhattan native born in 1932 who could convincingly sing any number of otherwise-forgotten tunes once sold on 78-rpm records. When I say convincingly, I mean that the spirit of the original artist inhabited Tim’s soul and came warbling out of his mouth like a phantom. He could render the song in his beautiful, natural baritone or kick it up into a fun-sounding falsetto. He could imitate and interpret in the same breath. All the while, he maintained connections with the hippest of pop-culture recording artists. When making his film about the Monterrey Pop Festival in 1967, D.A. Pennebaker was wise enough to shoot footage of Tiny backstage, entertaining the festival performers with riveting renditions of dusty once-favorites. That summer, the Band hosted him at their Woodstock hideout while recording their legendary “Basement Tapes.” (The results are available as bootlegs.) And Bob Dylan himself quizzed T.T. about Rude Valle, knowing that he would glean a gem of otherwise unavailable insider dope.
This article appears in Oct 15-21, 2009.