Warren Zevon Albums (13)
What The Critics Say
In late August of 2002, Warren Zevon was diagnosed with mesothelioma, a virulent and inoperable form of lung cancer; with his life expectancy expected to be no more than a few months, Zevon focused his dwindling energies on completing a final album, and The Wind, released a year after Zevon learned of his condition, was the result. With a back story like that, it's all but impossible to ignore the subtext of Zevon's mortality while listening to The Wind, though, thankfully, he's opted not to make an album about illness or death (ironically, he already did that with 2000's Life'll Kill Ya) or create a musical last will and testament. While The Wind occasionally and obliquely touches on Zevon's illness -- most notably the mournful "Keep Me in Your Heart" and the dirty blues raunch of "Rub Me Raw" -- in many ways it sounds like a fairly typical Warren Zevon album, though of course this time out the caustic wit cuts a bit deeper, the screeds against a world gone mad sound more woeful, and the love songs suggest higher emotional stakes than before. The Wind also lays in a higher compliment of celebrity guest stars than usual, and while obviously a lot of these folks are old friends wanting to help a pal in need, in some cases the ringers help to carry the weight for Zevon, who, while in good voice, can't summon up the power he did in his salad days. And remarkably, the trick works on several cuts; Bruce Springsteen's rollicking guest vocal on "Disorder in the House" offers just the kick the tune needed, Tom Petty's laid-back smirk brings a sleazy undertow to "The Rest of the Night," and Dwight Yoakam's harmonies on "Dirty Life and Times" are the perfect touch for the tune. In terms of material, The Wind isn't a great Zevon album, but it's a pretty good one; "El Amour de Mi Vida" is a simple but affecting look at lost love, "Prison Grove" is a superior character piece about life behind bars, and "Numb as a Statue," "Disorder in the House," and "Dirty Life and Times" prove the prospect of imminent death hasn't alleviated Zevon's cynicism in the least. (It's hard to say if he's being sincere or darkly witty with his cover of "Knockin' on Heaven's Door," though he manages to make it work both ways.) And the assembled musicians -- among them Ry Cooder, David Lindley, Joe Walsh, Don Henley, and Jim Keltner -- serve up their best licks without taking the show away from Zevon, who, despite his obvious weakness, firmly commands the spotlight. The Wind feels less like a grand final statement of Warren Zevon's career than one last walk around the field, with the star nodding to his pals, offering a last look at what he does best, and quietly but firmly leaving listeners convinced that he exits the game with no shame and no regrets. Which, all in all, is a pretty good way to remember the guy. ~ Mark Deming, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
Warren Zevon is famous for black-hearted comedy tunes like "Werewolves of London" and "Excitable Boy," but his best work is a good bit deeper and more penetrating, and 2000's Life'll Kill Ya was an impressive return to form, a song cycle about aging and death that was played less for easy laughs than for the bitter humor derived from the knowledge that no one, the artist included, will get out of this world alive. Zevon's follow-up, 2002's My Ride's Here, for the most part recalls Zevon albums like Mr. Bad Example or Mutineer. My Ride's Here also finds Zevon collaborating with a number of writers from outside the world of music (not the first time he's done this; novelist Tom McGuane co-wrote "The Overdraft" on Envoy). Novelist Carl Hiaasen co-wrote "Basket Case," an ode to an insane girlfriend, while gonzo journalist Hunter S. Thompson collaborates on "You're a Whole Different Person When You're Scared." Sportswriter Mitch Albom, of all people, turns in the best collaboration on the album, "Hit Somebody! (The Hockey Song)." The sardonic "Genius" and "Sacrificial Lambs," and the title cut -- a meditation on mortality that would have fit in on Life'll Kill Ya -- are strong and remind listeners of just how talented Zevon still is. ~ Mark Deming, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
Conventional wisdom has it that rock & roll is the aural embodiment of youth culture, but as more artists who've devoted their lives to playing the stuff grow older, they've struggled to reconcile maturity with the recklessness of the music. No surprise, then, that few if any have had the courage to do what Warren Zevon did with his 2000 set Life'll Kill Ya -- create a concept album about aging, disease, decay and ultimately death. "My Shit's Fucked Up" and the title tune are bleakly witty but unblinking glimpses into the abyss of mortality, "Don't Let Us Get Sick" is a sadly hopeful prayer against the inevitable, "Porcelain Monkey" chronicles Elvis Presley's long slide into fatal irrelevance, and the cover of Steve Winwood's "Back in the High Life Again" transforms the song into a picture of a man struggling to convince himself he's going to get out alive. Given its dominant themes, Life'll Kill Ya is surprisingly light hearted; while Zevon seems to regard our long, slow march towards fate as some sort of joke, it's clear that he thinks the joke is pretty funny, and the performances are confident and fully engaged, a pleasant surprise after 1995's lackluster Mutineer. While Zevon handles most of the instrumentation, he had the good sense to bring in a rhythm section rather than letting synthesizers do the work, and Jorge Calderon and Winston Watson bring a human heartbeat to this music that counters the sometimes gloomy outlook. The sad irony is that two years after making Life'll Kill Ya, Warren Zevon would be diagnosed with an inoperable case of mesothelioma that would claim his life in the fall of 2003, but the album's themes ring even truer given the artist's fate -- Zevon was too bright a man to not know that Death was lurking somewhere, and on Life'll Kill Ya, he sure doesn't welcome him but is able to greet him with a smile and a handshake despite it all. ~ Mark Deming, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
After touring as a solo act in support of his album Mr. Bad Example, Warren Zevon apparently grew to enjoy working on his own, and for 1995's Mutineer, he recorded the bulk of the album in his home studio, handling most of the instrumentation himself and bringing in some friends to help sweeten some of the tracks (among them David Lindley, Bruce Hornsby and Rosemary Butler). While the live album Learning to Flinch demonstrated how compelling Zevon could be all by his lonesome, Mutineer suggests that without an audience or collaborators, he had a hard time working up the enthusiasm to make his songs come to life. The material on Mutineer is quite strong for the most part, especially the bitterly philosophical "The Indifference of Heaven," the witty tale of white collar crooks on the run "Seminole Bingo," and the title cut, which manages to make something honestly romantic of Zevon's outlaw reputation. (There's also a splendid cover of Judee Sill's "Jesus Was a Cross Maker.") But the performances are poorly focused and lack punch, and the banks of keyboard noodling on "Piano Fighter" and "Similar to Rain" are uncharacteristically self-indulgent. Mutineer was Zevon's last album for Giant Records and he would be without a label for five years after this was released, and despite his impressive track record, it's hard to blame an A&R man for not seeing a lot of promise in the guy after listening to this. ~ Mark Deming, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
Warren Zevon recorded the acoustic Learning to Flinch at various venues all over the world. All of his best-known songs are here, in riveting, rough acoustic forms. Longtime Zevon fans will find this essential, and it may win him a few new ones too. ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
After two albums that placed Warren Zevon in unexpected surroundings -- 1987's scrappy Sentimental Hygiene, which employed R.E.M. as Zevon's house band, and 1989's Transverse City, an elaborate and epic-scale depiction of a world in collapse -- 1991's Mr. Bad Example seemed like a return to familiar ground, at least at first glance. Frequent guitar foil Waddy Wachtel produced the sessions, and a number of other friends and collaborators from his salad days also popped up, including David Lindley, Jorge Calderon, Jim Keltner, and Jeff Porcaro. But if Mr. Bad Example was leaner, breezier, and more concise than the two discs that preceded it, it also carried an air of Zevon battling against the sound and style fans expected of him, and reflected the mind of an artist who had learned to pursue his own vision no matter what others expected of him. "Finishing Touches" is as bitter a kiss-off to a former lover as anyone has committed to plastic, "Model Citizen" is hardly more charitable in its depiction of an unfortunately average guy ("It's the white man's burden/And it weighs a ton"), and "Susie Lightning" and "Angel Dressed in Black" are witty but mordant commentaries on love in the '90s. However, that's not to say that Zevon is without a sense of humor; the title cut is a hilarious shaggy dog tale of one man's love affair with global irresponsibility, and "Things to Do in Denver When You're Dead" is worthy of its title. And while the final cut is called "Searching for a Heart," the song confirms Zevon had one that was battered but still functioning when he recorded this album. Mr. Bad Example doesn't make an immediate connection like some of Warren Zevon's best work, but the songs are well-crafted and it grows with repeated listening. ~ Mark Deming, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
Warren Zevon's self-titled 1976 album announced he was one of the most striking talents to emerge from the Los Angeles soft rock singer/songwriter community, and Linda Ronstadt (a shrewd judge of talent if a sometimes questionable interpreter) recorded three of its songs on two of her biggest-selling albums, which doubtlessly earned Zevon bigger royalty checks than the album itself ever did. But if Warren Zevon was an impressive calling card, the follow-up, Excitable Boy, was an actual hit, scoring one major hit single, "Werewolves of London," and a trio of turntable hits ("Roland the Headless Thompson Gunner," "Lawyers, Guns and Money," and the title track). But while Excitable Boy won Zevon the larger audience his music certainly deserved, the truth is it was a markedly inferior album; while it had all the bile of Warren Zevon, and significantly raised Zevon's dark-humor factor, it was often obvious where his previous album had been subtle, and while all 11 tracks on Warren Zevon were strong and compelling, two of the nine tunes on Excitable Boy -- "Johnny Strike Up the Band" and "Nighttime in the Switching Yard" -- sound like they're just taking up space. Musically, most of Excitable Boy is stuck in a polished but unexceptional FM pop groove, and only "Veracruz" hints at the artful intelligence of Warren Zevon's finest moments. It's hard to say if Zevon was feeling uninspired or just dumbing himself down when he made Excitable Boy, but while it made him famous, it lacks the smarts and substance of his best work. ~ Mark Deming, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
Released in 1987, Sentimental Hygiene rescued Warren Zevon from record industry limbo and returned him to major-label status, but rather than return to the rough-and-ready sound of that album, he used his new corporate patronage to finance a significantly grander and darker project, 1989's Transverse City. The album features an impressive array of guest stars -- including Jerry Garcia, David Gilmour, Neil Young, Jack Casady, Jorma Kaukonen, and Benmont Tench -- but while its surface is as glossy as the albums Zevon created when he was the darling of the L.A. Mellow Mafia, the tone is as grim as anything the man ever created. Transverse City is a song cycle about a culture in collapse, in which technology has become our unfriendly master, the sky and stars have grown unfamiliar to us, conflict lurks around every corner, and our last remaining freedom is the right to spend our money. Zevon does aim for black humor here and there, most notably in the sly "Networking" and the tongue-in-cheek consumer anthem "Down at the Mall," but more typical is the dread of "Run Straight Down," the urban paranoia of "Gridlock," and the title song's celebration of a land where "life is cheap and death is free." The album's sole note of compassion is the final cut, "Nobody's in Love This Year," and even that song is a rueful meditation on a time and place where solace is a scarce commodity, and it's a fitting closer for an album that digs so deeply into the dark and bloody heart of the last days of the Reagan era. Transverse City didn't fare well at the marketplace -- no great surprise given the album's unforgiving themes -- but it deserves rediscovery as one of Warren Zevon's most ambitious and uncompromising achievements. ~ Mark Deming, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
After a rather well-publicized fall off the wagon following the release of The Envoy, Warren Zevon went five years without releasing an album, but his time in the woodshed seemed to have done him good, as Sentimental Hygiene was his strongest album since Warren Zevon in 1976. While a few members of the L.A. Mellow Mafia (David Lindley, Waddy Wachtel, Don Henley) made cameo appearances on the album, for most of the sessions Zevon worked with Peter Buck, Mike Mills, and Bill Berry of R.E.M., who were about a year away from their mainstream commercial breakthrough; they made for a solid, no-nonsense rhythm section, and gave the music a passionate, forceful backbone that was largely absent from The Envoy (not to mention rocking harder than one might expect from the kings of jangle pop). Zevon put his newly muscular sound to good use; the songs on Sentimental Hygiene are Warren Zevon at his flintiest, as he indulges in his usual obsessions with machismo ("Boom Boom Mancini") and bad love (the title cut) while also exploring the media's skewed perspective on his addiction problems ("Detox Mansion," "Trouble Waiting to Happen"), his disgust with the music business ("Even a Dog Can Shake Hands"), and errors in both personal and political judgement ("Bad Karma," "Leave My Monkey Alone"). And Zevon scored three inspired musical guest shots on the album -- Neil Young, whose jagged guitar runs embroider the title cut; Bob Dylan, whose howling harmonica is the ideal punctuation for the Springsteen-gone-psychotic "The Factory"; and George Clinton, who adds a bed of menacing funk to "Leave My Monkey Alone." Sentimental Hygiene proved that Warren Zevon was still an artist to be reckoned with, and that which didn't kill him had only made him stronger (and more bitterly funny). ~ Mark Deming, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
While moderation was never Warren Zevon's strong suit, his efforts to clean himself up in the early '80s resulted in two of his finest albums, 1980's literate but corrosive Bad Luck Streak in Dancing School and the following year's explosive live set Stand in the Fire. It seemed as if the wired chaos of Zevon's personal life had been channeled into his art on those LPs, but after another bout with the bottle and another attempt at sobriety, Zevon tried another approach at merging his music and his life on 1982's The Envoy. On The Envoy's best songs, Zevon tackles his dangerous appetites head on; "Charlie's Medicine" is a chilling requiem for a drug dealer who used to sell him dope, "Jesus Mentioned" is a spare but curiously moving meditation on the death of Elvis Presley, who "went walking on the water with his pills," and the ragged but right "Ain't That Pretty at All" is an unlikely but powerful recovery anthem in which he howls "I'd rather feel bad than not feel anything at all." When Zevon confronts his own demons on The Envoy, the album is intense and compelling stuff, but unfortunately there aren't enough of these moments to prop up the rest of the set, which is smart and literate but not especially exciting. Novelist Thomas McGuane co-wrote "The Overdraft," a hard-charging rocker that unfortunately doesn't make much sense, while the languid "The Hula Hula Boys" plays like a joke in which the punch line got lost, and the two love songs, "Let Nothing Come Between You" and "Looking for the Next Best Thing," manage to sound at once heartfelt and like lesser variations on themes he'd covered with greater strength before. The Envoy would prove to be Zevon's last album for five years after he took another stumble into addiction, but while it's an often brave and ambitious disc, the high points don't quite redeem its weaknesses. ~ Mark Deming, All Music Guide
