•
Rating: Errors may perhaps be forgiven, but not forgotten. And that's called regret.
Or perhaps they can be forgotten, but not forgiven. And that is called remorse.
I have never seen Warren Zevon perform live. And that is for me a HUGE regret, knowing as I do that there will never be a remedy for this, because unfortunately (and it's already been eight years, which seem like eighty) "...even Hope, the last goddess, flees the tombs". But more than that, it is a TERRIBLE remorse. I have seen concerts plenty of: super famous, famous, moderately known, obscure, very obscure, undetectable by sonar. For some of these, I’ve traveled several hundred kilometers, but many, perhaps too many, have left no trace, forgettable and forgotten. If I could, I'd put them all together, I'd add a nice sum of good ones as a tip, maybe a couple of excellent ones, and even the gold medal from my first communion in exchange for the opportunity to see just one of Warren Zevon.
[Aside: for me, Warren Zevon is to rock what Sam Peckinpah is to cinema, or Cormac McCarthy is to literature. He and a few others (very few, almost none) managed to satisfy my thirst for a rock that knows how to be both spectacle and reflection, plot and the pleasure of writing, thought and action, gut and brain, muscles and heart. He (maybe only he) was able, in the middle of a round stanza or a well-crafted chorus, with a sharp guitar and a simple four-beat drum, to sketch memorable figures of the comédie humaine of all times and places: outlaws and cowboys of the old West, merciless mercenaries, Chicano proletarians, urban werewolves, drug-addicted double-zeros, and even tormented boxer-philosophers. Someone who in three lines could craft with equal ease and effectiveness "social" sketches ("Send lawyers, guns, and money / The shit has hit the fan...") or "personal" ones ("Everybody's at war these days / Let's have a little truce / I need a little sentimental hygiene"). Roses blooming in the desert. So suddenly, so simply. End of aside].
Therefore, putting aside regrets and remorse for a moment and closing my eyes, every now and then I HAVE to play this live album of his from 1981, a compilation of five shows across five days held in his beloved/hated Los Angeles. Calling it sheer bliss is an understatement, with the poet disguising himself as a stage animal to surprise us one more time. Even his big voice and piano ballads on which much of his monument is built, those with heart in hand and dusty Texan boots, gain an emotional surplus that's hard to believe. In essence, all of his best songs, masterpieces from those first three albums (actually four, because there would also be the false start of the 1970 debut "Wanted: Dead or Alive", but soon consigned by everyone, author included, to oblivion) plus a couple that had never been edited before now cease to be beautiful girls with intellectual glasses that make your head spin in the library; instead, they dress up for the evening, heavy makeup and high heels, marvelous and swaying night prostitutes that don't have to try too hard to lure you. What they lose in intimacy they regain with dividends in muscularity, accelerated by a metronomic, pounding drum, a boogie piano of a steamroller, all enhanced by the amalgam of a sumptuous band on which the swooning guitar solos of David Landau stand out. Little or nothing here of Dylan, Waits, or the buddy Jackson Browne (understood, the best one). Instead, a bit of Reed, a lot of Springsteen (understood, the best one, the one who at the time would stay on stage for five hours straight) and a great deal of Jim Carroll. And if there must be a cover, then let it be the fundamental rawness of a Bo Diddley. Distillate of rock. Essence of rock. The kind that the older it gets, the better it is because it does NOT age. The kind that is at once a car chase at 200 miles per hour like Kowalski or a descent into the underworld with Marlon Brando, Jack Daniel's, and Lucky Strikes. And above all, it is sex with (at least) two with whoever you want. Let it be all about this one here, only and always 5 million stars to her and Zevon, because even today at the millionth listen, it manages to make me feel like an excitable boy.
Everything else is masturbation.
Maybe your manager didn't tell you, Warren, but tomorrow night he arranged a concert. At my house.
Tracklist and Lyrics
02 Jeannie Needs a Shooter (04:11)
written by Bruce Springsteen and Warren Zevon 1980 Zevon Music BMI and Bruce Springsteen ASCAP
I was born down by the river where the dirty water flows
And the cold wind cut through me, it cut right through my clothes
And the anger and the yearning, like fever in my veins
Set the fire burning
She came down from Knightstown with her hands hard from the line
From the first time I laid eyes on her
I knew that she'd be mine
Her father was a lawman, he swore he'd shoot me dead
'Cause he knew I wanted Jeannie and I'd have her like I said
Jeannie needs a shooter
Shooter like me
Jeannie needs a shooter
Shooter on her side
Jeannie needs a shooter
We met down by the river, on the final day in May
And when I leaned down to kiss her, she did not turn away
I drew out all my money and together we did vow
To leave that very evening and get away somehow
Jeannie needs a shooter
Shooter like me
Jeannie needs a shooter
Shooter on her side
Jeannie needs a shooter
The night was cold and rainy down by the borderline
I was riding hard to meet her when a shot rang out behind
As I lay there in the darkness with a pistol by my side
Jeannie and her father rode off into the night
Jeannie needs a shooter
03 Excitable Boy (04:03)
Written By Warren Zevon & LeRoy P. Marinell
c. 1976 Zevon Music/BMI and Polite Music/ASCAP
Well, he went down to dinner in his Sunday best
Excitable boy, they all said
And he rubbed the pot roast all over his chest
Excitable boy, they all said
He took in the four a.m. show at the Clark
Excitable boy, they all said
And he bit the usherette's leg in the dark
Excitable boy, they all said
Well, he's just an excitable boy
He took little Suzie to the Junior Prom
Excitable boy, they all said
And he raped her and killed her, then he took her home
Excitable boy, they all said
Well, he's just an excitable boy
After ten long years they let him out of the home
Excitable boy, they all said
And he dug up her grave and built a cage with her bones
Excitable boy, they all said
Well, he's just an excitable boy
04 Mohammed's Radio (04:50)
written by Warren Zevon 1976 Zevon Music BMI
Everybody's restless and they've got no place to go
Someone's always trying to tell them
Something they already know
So their anger and resentment flow
But don't it make you want to rock and roll
All night long
Mohammed's Radio
I heard somebody singing sweet and soulful
On the radio, Mohammed's Radio
You know, the Sheriff's got his problems too
He will surely take them out on you
In walked the village idiot and his face was all aglow
He's been up all night listening to Mohammed's Radio
Don't it make you want to rock and roll
All night long
Mohammed's Radio
I heard somebody singing sweet and soulful
On the radio, Mohammed's Radio
Everybody's desperate trying to make ends meet
Work all day, still can't pay the price of gasoline and meat
Alas, their lives are incomplete
Don't it make you want to rock and roll
All night long Mohammed's Radio
I heard somebody singing sweet and soulful
On the radio, Mohammed's Radio
You've been up all night listening for his drum
Hoping that the righteous might just might just might just come
I heard the General whisper to his aide-de-camp
"Be watchful for Mohammed's lamp"
Don't it make you want to rock and roll
All night long Mohammed's Radio
05 Werewolves of London (04:59)
I saw a werewolf with a Chinese menu in his hand
Walking through the streets of SoHo in the rain
He was looking for the place called Lee Ho Fooks
For to get a big dish of beef chow mein
Refrain:
Ah-wooo, Werewolves of London
Ah-wooo
(x2)
You hear him howling around your kitchen door
Better not let him in
Little old lady got mutilated late last night
Werewolves of London again
(Refrain)
Hunh!
He's the hairy-handed gent
Who ran amok in Kent
Lately he's been overheard in Mayfair
You better stay away from him
He'll rip your lungs out, Jim
Hunh, I'd like to meet his tailor
(Refrain)
I saw Lon Chaney walking with the Queen
Doin' the Werewolves of London
I saw Lon Chaney Jr. walking with the Queen
Doin' the Werewolves of London
I saw a werewolf drinkin' a pina colada at Trader Vic's
His hair was perfect...hinh!
Ah-wooo
Werewolves of London
Hunh, draw blood
Ah-wooo
Werewolves of London
06 Lawyers, Guns and Money (03:58)
Written By Warren Zevon
c. 1978 Zevon Music/BMI
I went home with the waitress
The way I always do
How was I to know
She was with the
Russians, too?
I was gambling in Havana
I took a little risk
Send lawyers, guns and money
Dad, get me out of this hyeah
I'm the innocent bystander
Somehow I got stuck
Between the rock
and a hard place
And I'm down on my luck
Yes I'm down on my luck
Well I'm down on my luck
I'm hiding in Honduras
I'm a desperate man
Send lawyers, guns and money
The shit has hit the fan
All right
Send lawyers, guns and money
Huh!
Uh...
Send lawyers, guns and money
Uhh!
Send lawyers, guns and money
Hyah!
Send lawyers, guns and money
Ooh!
Yeah!
Yeah
Yeah...
Uh!
08 Poor Poor Pitiful Me (04:18)
I'd lay my head on the railroad tracks
And wait for the Double "E"
But the railroad don't run no more
Poor, poor pitiful me
Poor, poor pitiful me
Poor, poor pitiful me
These young girls won't let me be
Lord have mercy on me
Woe is me
Well, I met a girl in West Hollywood
I ain't naming names
She really worked me over good
She was just like Jesse James
She really worked me over good
She was a credit to her gender
She put me through some changes, Lord
Sort of like a Waring blender
Poor, poor pitiful me
Poor, poor pitiful me
These young girls won't let me be
Lord have mercy on me
Woe is me
Well, I met a girl at the Rainbow bar
She asked me if I'd beat her
She took me back to the Hyatt House
I don't want to talk about it
Poor, poor pitiful me
Poor, poor pitiful me
These young girls won't let me be
Lord have mercy on me
Woe is me
(Well, I met a girl from the Vieux Carre`
Down in Yokahama
She picked me up and she throwed me down
I said, "Please don't hurt me, Mama")
09 I'll Sleep When I'm Dead (04:46)
written by Warren Zevon 1976 Zevon Music BMI
(note from Zevonfan1--I greatly prefer the alternate reading of "And I DON'T intend to use it on myself")
So much to do, there's plenty on the farm
I'll sleep when I'm dead
Saturday night I like to raise a little harm
I'll sleep when I'm dead
I'm drinking heartbreak motor oil and Bombay gin
I'll sleep when I'm dead
Straight from the bottle, twisted again
I'll sleep when I'm dead
Well, I take this medicine as prescribed
I'll sleep when I'm dead
It don't matter if I get a little tired
I'll sleep when I'm dead
I've got a .38 special up on the shelf
I'll sleep when I'm dead
If I start acting stupid
I'll shoot myself
I'll sleep when I'm dead
So much to do, there's plenty on the farm
I'll sleep when I'm dead
Saturday night I like to raise a little harm
I'll sleep when I'm dead
11 Johnny Strikes Up the Band (03:58)
Dry your eyes my little friend
Let me take you by the hand
Freddie get ready Rock steady
When Johnny strikes up the band
They'll be rocking in the projects
Walking down along the strand
Freddie get ready Rock steady
When Johnny strikes up the band
Johnny strikes up the band
When Johnny strikes up the ...
When Johnny strikes up the ...
When Johnny strikes up the band
And Johnny is my main man
He's the keeper of the keys
He'll put your mind at ease
He's guaranteed to please
Back by popular demand
Look around, my little friend
Jubilation in the land
Freddie get ready Rock steady
When Johnny strikes up the band
Johnny strikes up the band
When Johnny strikes up the ...
When Johnny strikes up the ...
When Johnny strikes up the band
13 Frank and Jesse James (04:27)
Written By Warren Zevon
published by Warner-Tamerlane/Darkroom Music BMI, 1973
On a small Missouri farm
Back when the west was young
Two boys learned to rope and ride
And be handy with a gun
War broke out between the states
And they joined up with Quantrill
And it was over in Clay county
That Frank and Jesse finally learned to kill
Keep on riding, riding, riding
Frank and Jesse James
Keep on riding, riding, riding
'Til you clear your names
Keep on riding, riding, riding
Across the rivers and the range
Keep on riding, riding, riding Frank and Jesse James
After Appomattox they were on the loosing side
So no amnesty was granted
And as outlaws they did ride
They rode against the railroads,
And they rode against the banks
And they rode against the governor
Never did they ask for a word of thanks
Keep on riding, riding, riding
Frank and Jesse James
Keep on riding, riding, riding
'Til you clear your names
Keep on riding, riding, riding
Across the prairies and the plains
Keep on riding, riding, riding
Frank and Jesse James
Robert Ford, a gunman
Did exchange for his parole
Took the life of James the outlaw
Which he snuck up on and stole
No one knows just where they came to be misunderstood
But the poor Missouri farmers knew
Frank and Jesse do the best they could
Keep on riding, riding, riding
Frank and Jesse James
Keep on riding, riding, riding
'Til you clear your names
Keep on riding, riding, riding
Across the rivers and the range
Keep on riding, riding, riding
Frank and Jesse James
14 Hasten Down the Wind (04:33)
(Warren Zevon)
She tells him she thinks she needs to be free
He tells her he doesn't understand
She takes his hand
She tells him nothing's working out the way they planned
She's so many women
He can't find the one who was his friend
So he's hanging on to half her heart
He can't have the restless part
So he tells her to hasten down the wind
Then he agrees he thinks she needs to be free
Then she says she'd rather be with him
But it's just a whim
By which she hopes to keep him on the limb
She's so many women
He can't find the one who was his friend
So he's hanging on to half her heart
He can't have the restless part
So he tells her to hasten down the wind
Loading comments slowly
