Warren Zevon’s Dirty Life and Times
The late great Warren Zevon was a regular performer at the House of Blues Las Vegas later in life. This town was also a favorite topic in his lyrics in songs ranging from "Boom Boom Mancini" to "Porcelain Monkey." A recent biography, “I'll Sleep When I'm Dead: The Dirty Life and Times of Warren Zevon,” by Crystal Zevon, his ex-wife, offers a candid warts-and-all look into one of the most talented and self-destructive rock stars to ever grace a stage. He is also the first major songwriter of the rock era to receive an authorized biography that offers this much candor into such a wild life. I caught up with Crystal Zevon on the phone yesterday while she was in New York.
Richard Abowitz: What sort of man hires his ex-wife to write his official autobiography?
Crystal Zevon: Maybe one that has come to terms with the things that plagued the marriage and become a friend.
Q: Still, there must be stuff you learned that you knew nothing about when you started researching the book? Stuff that he knew you would find out.
A: Yes, definitely. The last thing he told me was, "You have to tell the whole truth, even the awful, ugly parts." And I said, "I don't even know what the whole truth is, Warren." He laughed and he said: "Oh, you'll find out." So, yeah, he knew I would find out things. But what I realized about three-quarters through the project was that while I didn't know all the details and the extent of his obsessions and compulsions and proclivities, I did know him. And, he knew I knew him. We kept in touch all those years. There were periods we were mad and didn't talk. But for the most part we became friends and confidants and that is why he asked me to write it. We were young and vulnerable and completely open when we together; that kind of lasted through the friendship.
Q: How much do you think once being his wife impacted the stories people were willing to tell you as his biographer?
A: I didn't know. I wanted to do an oral history with a lot of voices including his journals. But I had no idea when I started out how willing people would be with me, or if people would be willing to talk. And, of course, some people were more open than others. But on the whole I was very surprised by how forthcoming people were. I think we were all working out our grief and whatever unfinished business anyone had with Warren, too. Not to sound really corny but it was a coming together over Warren.
Q: I was surprised by some of the people you did not interview. Why isn’t Don Henley (who plays on many Zevon songs) in your book?
A: I tried to reach him. Jackson (Browne) couldn't really help me. I tried.
Q: Then there is Linda Ronstadt?
A: I should have tried harder to reach Linda. She picked a lot of songs of his and she was really helpful to him. But they didn't know each other well. I called. I left a couple of messages and then I had to move on to finish the book.
Q: Then there is Dylan. I understand, as you say in the notes, that you were too intimidated to talk to Dylan. I feel the same way and understand. But after Zevon's terminal diagnosis, Dylan started doing Warren Zevon songs at his concerts. Dylan almost never covers the songs of other artists. And, then at one point Dylan was up to doing three songs by Zevon at some concerts. The thing was unprecedented. Do you have any idea how it happened?
A: I think Dylan just thought Warren was a great songwriter and wanted to pay tribute to him. When that happened with Dylan, Warren said, "This is almost worth dying for." He wasn't kidding.
Q: In one story in your book, Zevon is freaking out over a meeting with Springsteen or Henley and I wonder did he ever get that these were his peers? Jackson Browne says that being a mentor to Zevon hurt their friendship. I mean did Zevon know he was one of them: a songwriter who belonged in the club?
A: No. He never felt invited in. He felt like he pushed his way in. What comes to mind is “Jeannie Needs a Shooter.” The way the song came to be is that Bruce Springsteen had the title and Warren would obsess about it. Warren finally asked Bruce if he could have the title. Then he’d say, let’s write a song together. But I think what he always hoped for is that they would, for once, say, “Let’s sit down and write a song.” Well, it was always Warren who initiated that. He was especially isolated in the music world. He was well respected but he never got rich. It was never easy. He was still living in a one-bedroom apartment in West Hollywood when he died. At the time of his diagnosis his career was dead in the water. Here is what I think: Warren honestly believed his recognition would come after he was dead. He turned his last year into a marketing campaign and that is why he wanted the book to come out.
Richard Abowitz has written for a variety of national publications. He currently splits his time between LasVegasWeekly.com, Las Vegas Weekly (print), and the Los Angeles Times. Email him at [email protected]