To me, it was like, oh my God, how long can I keep trying to wrangle this guy? It was just too much. Right after that whole thing, I said to myself, I can’t hang with this guy. I’m worried about myself; I’m worried about him. I’ve got to stop being this guy’s buddy when he’s being totally nuts. I don’t want to be that.
CRYSTAL ZEVON: Our guitar straps were turning a profit. Jackson had created a simple design and lent us the money to make the initial investment, and now people were appearing on Saturday Night Live wearing our custom straps. But, Warren was still calling me in the middle of the night and I knew I was in danger of giving in. One night, he showed up in a taxi and played me the song he’d finally finished, “Accidentally Like a Martyr.”
Warren came home again, and this time we decided that the real problem was living in a tract house in North Hollywood. He had a thing about having the right address, which we definitely did not. So, Warren started recording “Excitable Boy” while I sold our house and rented a Spanish-style house in Los Feliz.
WADDY WACHTEL: The recording of “Werewolves of London” was like Coppola making Apocalypse Now. It took seven bands to record—the hardest song to get down in the studio I’ve ever worked on. I tried it with every combination of players we’d used on the record already—Russell Kunkel and Bob Glaub, Jeff Porcaro and Bob Glaub, Russell Kunkel and Lee Sklar…Tried it with Mike Botts, with Rick Slosher, and two different bass players. Didn’t work. Tried it with Gary Mallaber and both the bass players. Kept not working.
Then, I’m not sure whose idea it was, but we knew who could play this song…Mick Fleetwood and John McVie. They could play it. I called Mick and said, “We have this song ‘Werewolves of London’ and we need you to play it.” He goes, “You want us to play with you guys?” I say, “Yeah, man.” Mick says, “Waddy, that would be tremendous.”
Those guys were drunker than we were, it turned out, but they came down and we set up. It was a nighttime session, and we did a take, did a second take. Jackson and I looked at each other after the second take: “That was pretty good, wasn’t it?” Mick Fleetwood says, “Keep going, keep going.” Now it’s like six in the morning and we’re at take sixty-six or something, and I looked at Mick and I said, “I think we’re done.” Mick looks at me and says, “We’re never done, Waddy.”
I’m standing on the platform with the drums where I’d been all night, and I look through the glass and I say, “Jackson, take two was pretty good, wasn’t it?” He says, “Take two was still good.” I say, “Sorry, Mick. We’re done. Take two was good.” We went into the booth and take two was the one we used. Most of the budget for that album went to that song because of all the attempts at getting it done.
The day we did “Roland,” I got Russell and Bob Glaub to play it. Before Warren got to the studio, I ran them through the song and I said, “I’m going to teach you this ending because I want to blow Warren’s mind. You’re going to play the ending as if you’ve known it forever.” “Roland” had this real specific little thing on the end. I said, “I’ll be in the booth, and I’ll cue you for the ending.”
Warren showed up and I say, “Sit down, Warren. They’ve got the charts in front of them, so you play it. Let them hear ‘Roland.’” He starts playing and they’re playing along, and it got to the end and Russell comes in, exactly like it is on the record. He got it exactly right. Warren jumps up from the fucking piano and goes, “Whoa! Jesus Christ, Waddy. I guess if you pay triple scale, you really get your money’s worth.” It woke him right up.
ROY MARINELL: We had an interesting synergy. Warren’s humor is black, as is mine. So, Kim Carnes had the song “Bette Davis Eyes” and there were jokes going around. Marty Feldman Eyes, etc. etc. One night, Warren and I were out at Record Plant, and he said something about the Kim Carnes record, which was made there. I said, “Sammy Davis Eyes,” my version of the joke. Warren looked up at me and said, “Eye,” which was marvelous—a perfect example of how things happened.
WADDY WACHTEL: Warren and I were shattered after working on that record, and it’s one of the best things he ever did as far as I’m concerned…There were a couple songs on it I hated, “Tule’s Blues” and “Frozen Notes.” I didn’t want them on the record. One day, I showed up at the studio and Jackson goes, “We’re having a playback party tonight.” I went, “A playback party? Don’t you need a whole album for that?” He went, “The album’s finished.” I go, “No, it isn’t.” He said, “Yeah, man. It’s done.”
They had this whole party set up. We played the record, and I watched people yawn their way through those tunes, and at the end I asked someone for the timing, and it was twenty-four minutes. I stood up, looked at Warren and Jackson, and pointed at both of their faces. I went, “You and you. Come with me.”
We went out to the piano at the Sound Factory, and I went, “Now you understand what I’m telling you? We don’t have a fucking album yet. Those songs have to go. They’re boring. They’re folky. They don’t belong with the rest of this amazing stuff we’ve got.” I said, “I’m leaving on the road with Linda Ronstadt, and I’ll be back in three weeks. Warren, you’ve got to write two more songs for this record.” I have to say, that was one of the best things Warren ever did for me, and for all of us as listeners. When I got back, the songs were “Lawyers, Guns and Money” and “Tenderness on the Block.”
CRYSTAL ZEVON: Warren often told me that he had to create fights, make drama, so that he could experience the pain firsthand. Then he could write a song about it. He even went so far as to say that he was envious of Jackson and Neil Young because they had people close to them die and it gave them the material for great songs. I once told Jackson about that conversation and he said, “Warren is so honest. Nobody’s supposed to be that honest.”
But, living with the genius who needs to create his own drama for the sake of a song wasn’t always easy. The night “Tenderness on the Block” was written is a perfect example.
JACKSON BROWNE: We wrote that song the night I came over [responding to Crystal’s call] because he had pulled the banister off the staircase. By the time I got back there, all was calm, and he didn’t remember pulling the banister off the staircase. So, we sat down to work on this song and we obviously didn’t stop drinking, because I wound up drinking enough to pass out and fall asleep. When I woke up, the song was finished.
CRYSTAL ZEVON: The next day, Ariel and I were back home before Warren woke up. He knew something happened to the banister, but we never discussed it. A couple days later, Jackson called and said he thought Warren should take some time away to get himself together. I agreed.
BURT STEIN: Joe Smith came to me and said, “We think Warren needs a little break. He’s talking about Hawaii. How would you like to go with him?” Warren and I were pretty close, and if anybody from the record company was going anywhere with him, it was usually me.
We settled in and our pattern was that I would go to sleep at a normal time. Warren would sit on the balcony ’til all hours of the morning reading Raymond Chandler novels, sipping Stolichnaya. I’d get up in the morning and invariably he was ready to carry on. It would be time for breakfast, and Warren would stop at the refrigerator, and he’d say, “I can’t eat on an empty stomach.” He’d down a little more vodka and we’d go have breakfast.
Of course, every afternoon we spent hours in the cocktail lounge—to the point where Warren got friendly with the waitress. One day he says, “A friend of the waitress has a cabin up in the mountains. She’s off tomorrow and she’ll take us there. We can get a little mountain experience.” The three of us get in my rental car. We’re going to spend the night up in the mountains and come back the next day. So, we’re driving through a sugarcane field and Warren’s sitting next to me. The girl is in the backseat. I ask how long before we get up there. She says, “Oh, ninety minutes.” She goes on to say, “I’m sure my friend won’t mind if we break in.” I say, “Oh, shit. Warren, I can see it now. A telegram to Joe Smith: ‘Dear Joe, please send lawy
ers and money.’” And, Warren says, “Joe, send lawyers, guns, and money.” And then I say, “Warren, we’re not going up there.” He says, “You’re right. Back to the bar.” So, we went back to the cocktail lounge. On two cocktail napkins, he wrote “Lawyers, Guns and Money.”
WADDY WACHTEL: So, I was pretty happy with what Warren had waiting for me. “Tenderness” was an exceptional song, and I was thrilled with what I got to do on it guitar-wise. When Elektra picked “Werewolves” as the single, Warren and I just about threw up. We were insulted, depressed. Artistically, it was like a fuck you. They took that piece of shit after we gave them “Tenderness on the Block” and “Johnny Strikes Up the Band”? Meanwhile, it’s the only hit we ever had, and it will still be a hit when Ariel has grandchildren. But, we didn’t see that logic at all.
JIMMY WACHTEL: For the Excitable Boy album cover, Lorrie Sullivan and I went into the studio and shot pictures of Warren’s face. We retouched them so much that he looked like he was twelve years old. Every time we’d retouch, he’d want more. So, we erased his bad complexion. His hair was perfect, of course. It always looked like a cadaver with makeup to me, but he liked it. We also did the gun on the plate—a .44 Magnum, which was designed by Crystal.
Warren felt compelled to actually own a Ruger Blackhawk like the one used in the photograph.
CLAUDIA BURKE, assistant to Warren’s manager: Warren called me up at the office; he was by himself and wanted a ride. The next thing I knew we were on Highland at a gun shop. I’d never been to a gun shop in my life, and he was in a condition where I knew this wasn’t a good thing. But we get in there, and they knew who he was, and it was this exciting thing for them to have him in there. I’m thinking this is trouble. He offered to buy me a gun, and I’m like, “No, no thanks.”
From the Excitable Boy photo session.
BURT STEIN: I remember going over to Warren and Crystal’s house one day and seeing this big hole in the bathroom floor. I asked Crystal what that was and it was something about shooting cockroaches with the .45. I’m like, “Whoa!” Kind of gave me a little idea of what was going on.
DAVID LANDAU, guitarist, Jon Landau’s brother: Warren was ticked off because everyone had been telling him not to shoot the gun he’d bought. They told him the recoil would take his arm off and that it would be deafening. So, he sees a cockroach in the bathtub one day and he says, “Fuck it.” He gets the gun and shoots the cockroach with a .357 Magnum. His reaction is, “Hey, it wasn’t that bad.”
BONES HOWE: Around the time Excitable Boy came out United Artists decided Warren was having some success and they wanted to release the Wanted Dead or Alive album. I called Warren and said, “These guys are gonna put this record out, and if there’s anything you want to fix, I will make sure they don’t use the old tapes.”
It seemed like he was happy to do it at the time. But then, at some point after that, I got a phone call from him. He sounded like he was wiped out, and he started telling me, “You know, I got an AK-47…” I knew he was big time into guns at that point, and I’m not sure what it even meant. It was just Warren railing, letting me know that he had an AK-47. It sounded threatening, but I couldn’t figure out why he was threatening me.
ROY MARINELL: Warren Zevon was a great album. A critically acclaimed album. Sold about eighty-thousand copies. The next album was Excitable Boy, which did quite well, but immediately after that, Warren distanced himself from both myself and Waddy. Now, this is theory and I may be wrong, but in retrospect, I think Warren might have felt he needed to disassociate with me and Waddy just in case somebody might think somebody else had something to do with what was going on—with his music, his talent, what he was creating.
Much later, when the first best-of album, A Quiet Normal Life, came out, I think I have credit on five tunes, four as writer, one as bass player. My name is not spelled the same on any two of the songs. I don’t think it was from malice. It was more from his insecurities…his own torment. And, believe me, the man was tormented.
TWO
I’LL SLEEP WHEN I’M DEAD
Drinking heartbreak motor oil and Bombay gin
I’ll sleep when I’m dead
Straight from the bottle I’m twisted again
I’ll sleep when I’m dead
The expectations around the release of Excitable Boy were cautiously optimistic. The label decided to support a lengthy tour of medium-sized venues to promote the record, but the budget was tight. Warren understood the importance of making the right impression with his second album, and he wanted a top-notch band.
After considerable negotiation, an agreement was reached with Waddy and Rick Marotta, who had been playing drums with Linda Ronstadt. They would tour with Warren for far less money than they were accustomed to earning on the condition that they could fly first class. There was not enough fat in the budget to support first-class airfare for everyone, so the Zevons flew coach.
DAVID LANDAU: I had been playing guitar on Jackson’s tour after The Pretender came out, and I ended up going out with Warren. I’m dealing with the elite of the elite among the L.A. studio scene—Waddy and Rick—and Stan Sheldon was coming from Peter Frampton’s band. I was definitely the outsider. But, Warren was really supportive, and Waddy, intimidating as he can be, was really supportive.
It felt at times to me that Warren was working for Waddy and Marotta. They were very conscious of the fact that they were doing him a tremendous favor by going out with him, and Warren bought it. He was struggling to keep up with them in terms of his sense of self.
CRYSTAL ZEVON: Warren and Jackson had a falling-out before the tour. Jackson was trying to talk Warren out of taking Ariel and me on the road. It was going to be four months of touring, and Jackson thought Warren should have us join him here and there rather than being on the road every step of the way. What Jackson didn’t know was how sometimes it got so bad that I had to put Warren’s socks on for him. He needed a caretaker, and I was the only person who knew how to tiptoe around his moods and get him to do things like interviews, sound checks, even the show.
It was so bad that he needed me standing offstage near the piano, so if he forgot the lyrics to his songs, I could feed them to him. In truth, I’m thinking Warren used this as an opportunity to get upset with Jackson. He was hoping Jon Landau would produce his next album and he didn’t know how to tell Jackson, so he found a way to be mad at him.
Waddy Wachtel and Warren asleep on the plane; Stanley Sheldon in the background.
WADDY WACHTEL: We picked Richard Belzer out of this stack of tapes that some agency brought over. We needed an opening act, and someone had the idea we should go out with a comedian. Warren and I listened to these guys and we’re saying, “That’s not funny. He’s no good. No. No. No.” Then Richard comes on and we’re laughing and going, “That’s the one. This guy’s funny. We like him.”
One show in Nashville, Richard went out there and really antagonized the audience—over the top, laying into them. We’re backstage feeling nervous, but it worked. It went over. But, for a minute we thought we were all going to get tarred and feathered.
Warren’s handwritten notes on the tour rider:
“They want trees on my stage? Absolutely no fucking flora. And, tell them Richard Belzer is a very funny man who needs a microphone.”
DAVID LANDAU: One of the most bizarre nights of my life was the night we played Trax. There was a star-studded audience. Bruce was there. Tons of people—luminaries—I think George Harrison was there, Linda Ronstadt was there. New York record company people. The album was out, and Warren was a hit. He was getting raves in Rolling Stone.
Warren was very nervous, and he fucked up unbelievably. He was drunk during the set. The plan was to do two sets. We did our first set and I don’t remember if it was good or bad. I don’t remember how drunk Warren was, but he went off, and he just never showed for the second set. John David Souther had a new album out also, and virtually everybody who played on the record was in the audience. S
o, when Warren didn’t show up for his second set, Souther spontaneously put together a set.
Warren eventually came back, and we got into some crazy jam session. I remember being onstage with Warren, Waddy, Rick Marotta, Danny Kootch, and me. All playing guitar on “Mannish Boy,” Warren drunk out of his mind singing something.
BRUCE SPRINGSTEEN, singer/songwriter: The first time I met Warren, he came to New York. I saw him at a club in the city, and my main recollection was he did a version of Muddy Waters’ “I Am a Man” and instead of spelling out M-A-N, he spelled out his own name, Warren—which was very funny. It was one of those classic things that told you everything you needed to know about him.
Warren was a bit of an unusual character coming out of California because his tone was obviously not a typical Californian, unless you went back to maybe Nathanael West or something. He had the cynical edge, which was really not a part of what was coming out of California at the time. Outside of the songs being great, he was just an interesting character. My recollection is that after the show, we went out. I seem to remember spending most of the night and well into the morning of the next day together. We talked and hit it off.
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