Warren Zevon
Artist: Warren Zevon
Albums I Listened To: Warren Zevon, Excitable Boy
Backstory:
I’m doing things a bit differently with this post.
When I sent out the note where I asked friends for their recommendations of rock I should listen to, my old pal Mark Beamish went one better and sent me a really beautifully written short piece on Warren Zevon.
Mark and I have been friends since about 1972. 50 years! We met at Brebeuf, the Catholic high school we went to. Mark has always had a great sense about and feeling for music. He and our friend Kieran Mulroy were, as I recall, the ones in our crowd to first hear about Bruce Springsteen and organize us all to attend that historic Seneca College show in 1974. He is also a professional writer. So I wasn’t surprised when he didn’t just suggest Warren Zevon to me — he set out to convince me.
Following is Mark’s essay, word for word. I got a kick out of one paragraph where he remembers when he and a few of our crowd spent their university years in Ottawa. I stayed in TO to do journalism at Ryerson. I got an outstanding education at Ryerson. But the stories I heard about Ottawa have always made me a bit regretful that I wasn’t there to enjoy the hijinks.
So…here’s Mark’s piece. In the Reactions section below this section, I’ll offer my thoughts.
If the only Warren Zevon song you can name is ‘Werewolves of London’, you weren’t listening. For me his self-named second album was a revelation. There were the sweet and familiar sunny, Californian harmonies of the Eagles, Jackson Browne – the album’s producer, and
James Taylor to name a few. But once you picked up on the lyrics here (and in his entire catalogue), you realized Zevon was razor sharp, funny, cynical, satirical, and dark.
‘Carmelita’ is about a heroin addict. The elegant and powerful ‘Desperadoes Under the Eaves’ is about his own struggles with alcoholism: “All the salty margueritas in Los Angeles, I’m going to drink them up.” ‘Poor, Poor, Pitiful Me’ and ‘Excitable Boy’ each have a catchy melody that distracts from some sordid lyrics. He even tackles the boredom and frustration of life in the MLB in ‘Bill Lee’, a short ditty about his buddy, the ex-Red Sox/Expos pitcher and fellow outlier.
Rolling Stone magazine gave his 1980 live album ‘Stand in the Fire’, 4 stars. It also received considerable airtime from your band of high school brothers who ended up in Ottawa for
post-secondary shenanigans (a mere 4 decades ago). This one might be fun for you and
your drum kit.
As for Werewolves of London, the seed for the song supposedly came from Phil Everly
(of the famous brothers), who had just seen the 1930’s movie ‘Werewolf of London’.
As a joke, he suggested to Warren that he write a song with the same name and create
a new dance craze. Apparently, Zevon and 2 other musicians banged out the song in about
15 minutes. He was not pleased when his record label chose it as the album’s first single,
but ironically, it was the only top 40 hit of his career.
Music and art are fickle. Linda Ronstadt has greater success with Zevon’s songs than he ever did. Other fans of his music include Dylan, Springsteen, and Hunter S. Thompson. In his last
days of terminal lung cancer, Letterman invited him to sit in with the show’s in-house band. When discussing his thoughts on cancer, Warren summed up his life in typical style.
“I may have made a tactical error in not going to a doctor in 20 years.”
Reactions:
Thanks to Mark for that! Here’s my reaction.
I really was one of those people who knew Zevon only for “Werewolves of London.” It was a massive hit, the kind of song with an impossible-to-ignore musical lick – that piano pattern Zevon stomps out at the beginning and carries through the song like an Irish ballad you’d hear in a pub. That piano bit gets into your head and whenever you hear it…in a bar…in a supermarket…in the car…your brain has this immediate response. It’s a funky rocker you can dance to and it has that great “ahOOOOOOO” wail everyone can shout on the dance floor. And it has these weird lyrics that make no sense -- “I saw a werewolf drinking a pina colada at Trader Vic’s/And his hair was perfect” is a good example – and while it’s impossible to understand what the words mean, they get into my head and I repeat them on a moment’s notice as if they are an anthem of some kind.
When that song hit the charts back in the day, I bought the album, “Excitable Boy.” I remember loving it. It was full of these lyrics about…well, I don’t know what they meant. But each song took me into a world that Zevon wanted me to visit. And once I was there, I had the surprising recognition of that world that you get when a smart writer guides you. The same way I had no idea about that walrus John Lennon was singing about, but it all made some odd kind of sense to me.
But what really got me back then was Zevon’s musicality. It was clear to me then that this guy was like Paul McCartney in his ability to write a song that was meant to be a song, not just lyrics backed up by a subtly-played guitar. Each recording was full of terrific musical hooks. Listen to “Excitable Boy” and there’s another catchy piano opening and then the rollicking tenor-sax solo in the middle, backed up by a group of women singers who sound like Ray Charles’ Raelettes. In fact, I’ll bet Zevon – who was 14 when “Hit the Road Jack” was released in 1961 – probably heard Ray and that stirring soul groove got right into the young Warren’s brain.
The odd thing, for me, is that I enjoyed the Excitable Boy album but never listened to another Zevon album. And, since Mark sent me his essay about Zevon, I’ve learned the guy was busy in creating new music up until his death in 2003.
So, thanks to Mark, I’ve spent a lot of time over the past month listening to that second album, with the simple name, “Warren Zevon.” He did, in fact, record an official first album, “Wanted Dead or Alive” that no one ever seems to pay attention to. This one, as I’ve learned, is considered is as his true entry into album-making.
And it’s just splendid.
It all starts with a – you guessed it, a catchy piano hook – on “Frank and Jesse James.” I have to admit that when I saw the song title, I rolled my eyes. “Oh God,” I muttered. “Another American tribute to Jesse James.” I’ve never understood thing obsession Americans have with James. The guy was a bank robber. An outlaw and gang leader. Yet artists have been singing about him for years, revisioning him as a kind of Robin Hood. On this song, Zevon opens with a gorgeous piano intro that sounds like a down home church service. It got me all stirred up as soon as I heard it and I got even more into it as Zevon’s big band kicks in and Zevon proceeds to create a feeling about Jesse James that paints him as a kind of noble rogue. And, much to my surprise, I bought it.
The production through the whole album is beautiful. As Mark points out, Zevon enlisted the support of some of the best talent emerging in that California folk-rock-country scene in the early ‘70s. The attention to detail is noteworthy – no jamming here. Everything is very carefully planned and then executed with great precision. Little bits of beautifully-played acoustic slide guitar here, some country fiddle there, perfect vocal harmonies there, and drumming (remember, I’m a drummer, so I always pay special attention to the drummers) that does what it’s supposed to do – drive the song without overwhelming it.
There’s a song called “Hasten Down the Wind” that is as beautiful a love song as you’ll ever hear. He’s singing about something sad in a relationship here, something painful, but it’s strangely uplifting the way the band plays it.
Which brings me to an important realization on my part – Zevon has an outstanding voice. I’ve been going around for years paying tribute to the great voices in popular music. I’m fascinated by the ability to sing, partially because I have no such ability. Think of Aretha, Sinatra, Freddie Mercury, Ella Fitzgerald, Robert Plant, Joni Mitchell, Levon Helm, Linda Ronstadt, icons like that. And now that I’ve spent some serious time with Zevon, his voice and his ability to use that instrument (and it is an instrument, as much as a trumpet or piano) is impressive. It’s a little smoky, and deep and rich. He can go from a sensitive ballad to a ballsy rocker easily. But, most importantly, he uses his impressive voice to tell you his stories. And he writes his songs in such a way that you can understand every word he is saying. I get the strong feeling Zevon wants you to be clear as to the details of his stories. Chuck Berry wrote and sang like that too.
And there’s no better example of that than on a number that comes up in the middle of the album -- “Poor Poor Pitiful Me.”
When I heard that, I thought, “Oh yeah…this is his song.” I’d forgotten that he wrote it. I had only heard Ronstadt’s (she was in that California country-rock scene and sang some backup on this album) terrific take on “Pitiful.” She had a great talent at rockers; her cover of “Tumblin’ Dice” is even better than the Stones. She did the same so many other smart covers of foot-stomping rock anthems.
But when I heard Zevon and his gang belt out the original, I sat back, amazed. “Man, this guy can rock,” I thought.
And listen to the lyrics. You’re tapping your foot, you’re twisting on the dance floor if it gets played in a bar, while Mr. Zevon is telling you a story about a suicide attempt. “I lay my head on the railroad tracks…” And the story gets even darker. Yet, you want to dance. “I met a girl in West Hollywood/I ain’t naming names/She really worked me over good/Just like Jesse James.” There’s Jesse James again. And she worked him over so profoundly that she was a “credit to her gender/She really worked me over good/Sort of like a Waring blender.” Something bad going on there. And yet, you dance. You tap that foot. You can bet I’ll be cooking sometime and this song will just pop into my head and I’ll absentmindedly sing, “Well I lay my head on the railroad track…” and then I’ll catch myself and realize just what he’s singing about. That’s good writing.
Quite a force, this guy. Quite a talent.
Surprise Factor:
I’m surprised at how much this album did, indeed, surprise me. His voice, the literate lyrics and the superb playing really nailed me. I hadn’t taken Zevon seriously before. But I do now. I’ll give the album 10+. An absolute pleasure.
Will I listen to more of this artist?
I will. As I noted, Zevon recorded a lot. Despite his struggles with addiction and later health problems, he was a busy guy. So, more to explore. And I’m looking forward to that. And thanks again to Mark Beamish for re-introducing me to Warren Zevon.