Zevon presents role model for living in face of death

By G. Brown, Denver Post

Twenty-five years ago this week, "Werewolves Of London" by Warren Zevon charted. It became, for better or worse, his theme song for eternity.

"I notice I have a particularly good gig on Halloween," he once said, shaking his head in mock dismay.

Sad to say, most people still think of Zevon as just another singer-songwriter from the '70s, albeit a slightly warped one. But Zevon cranked out over a dozen albums after his only smash single, forming an enduring legacy. His work was idiosyncratic, literate, funny - and it rocked.

In short, the guy and his music are authentic originals. After all, as he noted in a song, even a dog can shake hands, so who cares if people misread him?

He's kept rolling along, on the road and off, and made a career of laughing at death. He adorned his album covers with grinning skulls, titled one of his releases "Life'll Kill Ya" and warbled tunes like "I'll Sleep When I'm Dead" in concert.

Now Zevon, 56, is a dying man. In December, he was diagnosed with mesothelioma, a kind of lung cancer that has advanced to an untreatable stage.

His response to having months to live has been unusual. Since the initial shock, he's been writing and recording tunes for an album that he hopes to finish before he's too sick to continue. And he's dealt with his situation with a candor, and even humor, that many folks would find surprising. But it's typical of Zevon.

Here, in his honor, are a few of his Colorado connections through the years:

• In the early '70s, Zevon spent a couple of years touring as the Everly Brothers' pianist/bandleader. After their breakup, he worked alternately with Phil Everly and Don Everly - and sojourned to Aspen long enough to be appointed honorary coroner of Pitkin County.

  "My ex-wife grew up in Aspen, which is sort of a rarity, I presume," Zevon said. "So we ended up there. A friend of mine was running for councilman, and late one night in the Hotel Jerome bar, I said that if he won, I wanted to be appointed coroner. He said, "Well, it is an appointment." He won, and I was. I like to think of it like a perpetuity."

• With "Werewolves Of London," Zevon had a Top 10 single. His ironic tales of physical and psychological mayhem ("Lawyers, Guns and Money") had earned him a cult following, and he was dubbed "the Sam Peckinpah of rock."

  But his career was temporarily set back by his alcoholism. In 1978, he arrived in Boulder for the last date of his tour. A rumor was making the rounds that he considered himself the vodka-spitting champion of the continent. I was surprised when he expressed no interest in the sport as he took a huge pull from a bottle of Stolichnaya between sets.

  "That's like drinking in reverse," he explained earnestly.

• After a year in the studio and "in training" (read: rehab), Zevon's 1980 release, "Bad Luck Streak," represented something of a comeback for him, and he was eager to tour. He met Boulder, a band that acquired its name when the members were located in Colorado. Boulder's debut album had included a harrowing and intelligent version of Zevon's "Meet Me In L.A." The "audition" consisted of a spirited version of "Johnny B. Goode."

  Zevon took to the road, not with the Los Angeles session guys from his albums, but rather the little-known Boulder. His somewhat sudden decision to record the few-months-new touring band in concert spoke volumes about the guy's essential rock 'n' roll attitude.

  "The idea always appeals to me to find a self-contained band, or at least find musicians who are accustomed to playing with each other," he said.

  The difference was apparent on the live recording "Stand In The Fire," cut at the Roxy in Los Angeles. One of Zevon's best albums, it was a portrait of the artist defiantly walking the line between emotional exorcism and mass entertainment.

  Zevon performed shirtless on the summer tour. "That was the culmination of a two-year physical fitness period in my life. I think I was celebrating the Chuck Norris-like physique of that era."

• Zevon's rollicking "Things to Do in Denver When You're Dead," from his 1991 album "Mr. Bad Example," got some attention. Time magazine's reviewers gave it "Song Title of the Year." People magazine called it "a hoot." It became the title of a Hollywood movie.

  "Um, it had to be a two-syllable town - Indianapolis wouldn't work," he explained. "It had to start with a 'D.' It had to have a Rattlesnake Cafe. Those were kind of the parameters.

  "Everyone seemed to enjoy it (when) I played Colorado."
  

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