Rock Around The World / April 1978 13
Vladimir Brando? ?
WARREN ZEVON
Singing in the Brain
by Stephanie Embrey
In the warm living room of his secluded home, amidst the debris of Christmas past, Warren Zevon held a clear glass to the darker aspects of passion, illuminating, in the process, the fires behind his creative temperament.
"I identify with my themes very deeply. I involve myself in my songs with an intensity that is greater than anything I care to be aware of. Howver, that doesn't mean I have to kill people or save peoples' lives, to write about doing it. Somebody has to play the role of Richard Speck or Charlie Starkweather or an assassin in a tower, so a producer hires an actor for a million bucks to do the job on screen. Since my absorption quotient is total, I get absorbed in the idea for as long as it takes to write a song. I don't think that any songwriter worth his salt can remember the creative process he went through to write a song, but I know that I don't just sit down and make it up, very casually, at the typewriter. Instead, my songs consist of impressions transmogrified into more extreme representations or identities."
Zevon is an artist who attracts critical acclaim like crossfire, yet to take any single song out of the context of his repertoire, and erect a mystique around it, is a mistake. This fact was amply illustrated by the abundance of interpretive articles occasioned by the release of his first Asylum LP, within which he was pinned by the pens of various journalists into one or more of the following instant archetypes: (1) the official interpreter of Angeleno angst, (2) a satirist of California rockstyles/lifestyles, (3) a one-man combo of Raymond Chandler and Ross MacDonald, alchemically conceived in a cocktail shaker, who shoots jokes instead of bullets, (4) a romanticized version of the Hollywoodian denizen-of-dark-alleys-andshady-bars mystique already superimposed on labelmate Tom Waits, (5) a detached sort of Greek Chorus voyeur and (6) New West's latest sortie into name games, "F. Scot Fitzevon," which alludes to Zevon's well-publicized respect for his favorite literary figure.
None of the preceding labels fit. Although Zevon idealizes and admires F. Scott Fitzgerald and Ross Macdonald, he makes no attempt to duplicate their literary style in his songwriting. However, their influence can be seen in Zevon's philosophical slant and his trenchant approach to emotions.
"In my opinion, MacDonald is possibly the best novelist alive today. I love the sense of balance he brings to his genre, and the way he transcends the limitations of detective fiction to keep the novelistic tradition alive.
"I've long been misrepresented as a spokesman of Los Angeles, a city that really has very little to do with my life, but the setting is much less important than the message. It's no secret that I have a great fondness for 'The Fitz' and I feel that MacDonald captures the same kind of feelings in his work through his incredible ability to understand human situations, human tragedies, and the pathos of simple daily life with a scope that is larger than we normally recognize-the terror and the glory inherent in being alive. He writes with a great intensity and a lyrical prowess that I would never pretend to have. Therefore, I relate to him in terms of intention.
"The last thing I want to be is a Greek Chorus, because I dislike being a non-participant in anything I write. Since I don't like to be portrayed as a voyeur, that whole concept seems alien and repugnant to me., Even though it may be creepy to get emotionally and creatively involved with some of the things I write about, the whole idea of voyeurism is loathsome to me. I either dive in or I
away. To me, writing and living are almost
• !----,.rce myself in something
interchangeable. I either _
here, or I might choose to go off to Timbuktu and say; `Well, I'm the guy from the great graduating class of 1964 -Fairfax Iligh7-who went all the way to Timbuktu to
write about it.' Writing is a very immediate experience to me, so I have to be my own narrator all the time. Feelings can be assimiliated into my own experience temporarily, but I can't vicariously use other people's lives."
Unlike his first Asylum album, which consisted of eleven songs written over a six year period. Excitable Boy, produced by Waddy Wachtel and Jackson Browne, contains nine cuts of recent vintage, six of which are collaborative efforts, including "Tenderness On The Block," a tender ballad written with Jackson Browne. Several songs were co-written with cohorts from other countries, with Zevon applying his cinematic imagination to a world backdrop. Not one song is set in Los Angeles.
"The album was a departure for me. I'd been isolated so long in my work, and I knew that writing songs with friends would be a positive experience. I traveled all over the world, and whenever any of us came up with an intriguing idea, we'd resolve it by writing a song. With rare exceptions, the collaborators were involved in the creation of both words and music, which makes it impossible to separate the specific contributions each collaborator made to a song."
In the title cut, the listener takes a bitter voyage into the core of irrational madness, a dip into the psyche of a psychopathic killer, who is dismissed by bystanders and bureaucrats as "just an excitable boy." Arranged in the musical context of the bright, vibrant 1950s rock that spilled out of everpresent transistor radios into eager teenage ears, it features harmonies by Linda Ronstadt and --ei the absence of both judgment and
aril •• '"
„al is qnfi honest as
condemnation, Zevon's treaty ••••-•
j,s, 7 4,t 0. II 3 •
an epitaph without a eulogy, stuck in the peatmoss of an anonymous, overgrown Potter's Field.
"I think that madness is an engagement of belief in what we dare not even think about. Some of my songs are about madness, but they're not detached satires: they're not Randy Newman. I seem to have been cast as 'The Big Dick Randy Newman' of Rock & Roil, when I'd rather see myself as an American combination of Marlon Brando and Vladimir Nabokov or a Russian Clint Eastwood. I believe that whimsy is from the heart. That is, after all, my motto. Most people are capable of maintaining a desperate sense of humor five-sixths of the time, and in the one-sixth that remains, if they're honest enough to admit they feel like crying, then they do. I do. In order to retain an honest, good-humored perspective toward human conditions, one must prevent oneself from falling into two traps, the first of which is to never sell yourself short or give too little credit to anyone who is alive, who has the potential to bring things to life. Secondly, you can't make life out to be a tragedy, and if it's your job to write about your outlook on living, you owe it to your friends—and your friends are the people who buy your records, your friends are yourself—not to bullshit them. If you want to write about a 44 magnum, you can't lie and say, 'I've actually got a gun magazine in the toilet'—when you've never shot a gun in your life. You've got an obligation to write about what seems real to you ... But getting back•to the album, the song 1 identify most strongly with at this moment is 'Send Lawyers, Guns, and Money,' because I want to survive another year, to write another song."

