Musings on the Most Ridiculous Band I Can't Stop Listening To

Tag: warren zevon (Page 1 of 6)

Grab Your Coat, Let’s Get Out Of Here

Eliminate all the foreigners right off. No offense to ’em. Not their fault, but they ain’t From Here.

Leave off those scruffy beatniks from the Bay. Everybody called ’em hippies, but everybody’s wrong so damn often. And that mean Jew who wasn’t from Manhattan, and that other mean Jew who also wasn’t from New York City. That jazzy lady from the Laurel Canyon.

I’ll take Warren from Hollywood. Self-destructive, self-mythologizing, and vain. Minor chord on a sunny afternoon, shooting up the billboards on the Strip. At war with the record company and the Corvette dealership. Arguing with the other hairy men about who was Hunter’s favorite. Setting his morphine on the table next to the salt and pepper. Name-dropping and neighbor-fucking. Closing the album with a song about a gorilla, who was the only desperado Warren ever wrote about that got away with it in the end. Warren wrote songs where people got what they deserved; Warren wrote a lot of songs about himself.

You take 4th Street. Zuma Beach, paved parking lots, corners with $26 in your hand. Gimme the Pioneer Chicken Stand and a salty margarita. Gimme the Envoy, the Mutineer, the Worrier King. Gimme Mr. Bad Example. Gimme the Excitable Boy.

His hair, you see…well, you know about his hair.

Hindu Du Du, Hinda Da Da, Is All I Want To Say To You

FUN FACT: Warren was kind of a dick about this collaboration. R.E.M. (they’re the backing band here) were just fans of the Excitable Boy, and they recorded the entire (better than it has a right to be) album in one night. Wasn’t even supposed to be released, but when it was and the first single, Raspberry Beret, did some business, Warren starting bugging the Georgians to do a full tour to the point where they stopped answering his phone calls.

FUNNER FACT: Despite their public persona of “Giant Pussies,” the members of R.E.M. were full-bore, speed-shooting, shit-starting, vomiting-on-stewardesses Rock Stars.

Hail, Hail Zevonia

You’ve got an invalid haircut
It hurts when you smile
You’d better get out of town
Before your nickname expires
It’s the kingdom of the spiders
It’s the empire of the ants
You need a permit to walk around downtown
You need a license to dance
Life’ll kill ya
That’s what I said
Life’ll kill ya
Then you’ll be dead
Life’ll find ya
Wherever you go
Requiescat in pace
That’s all she wrote
From the President of the United States
To the lowliest rock and roll star
The doctor is in and he’ll see you now
He don’t care who you are
Some get the awful, awful diseases
Some get the knife, some get the gun
Some get to die in their sleep
At the age of a hundred and one
Life’ll kill ya
That’s what I said
Life’ll kill ya
Then you’ll be dead
Life’ll find ya
Wherever you go
Requiescat in pace
That’s all she wrote
Maybe you’ll go to heaven
See Uncle Al and Uncle Lou
Maybe you’ll be reincarnated
Maybe that stuff’s true
If you were good
Maybe you’ll come back as someone nice
And if you were bad
Maybe you’ll have to pay the price
Life’ll kill ya
That’s what I said
Life’ll kill ya
Then you’ll be dead
Life’ll find ya
Wherever you go
Requiescat in pace
That’s all she wrote

Gotta Have A Plan

Gonna get me a Cadillac car. With velour seats and a full-size spare tire. Have a old friend of mine do the test drive, make sure it runs nice and smooth. Gonna hide a .38 under the front seat and point that giant hood West and drive all the way across America until I run out of highway. I ain’t young, but I can still Go West.

And drink and dance with one hand free.

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