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

Tag: warren zevon (Page 3 of 6)

You Won’t Need A Cab To Find A Priest

Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.

“No shit. Me, too.”

What did you do?

“Just about everything. You?”

Mostly sloth and envy.

“Lemme ask you something: if you hadn’t been told those were sins, would you know they were wrong?”

Probably not.

“Breathe easy, then.”

Thank you, Father.

“No worries. You got anything for the collection plate?”

I don’t have any cash.

“I’ll take your watch.”

Dominus vobiscum.

“Allahu akbar.”

You’re Welcome

Here. I found this for you because I love you. You’ve seen the picture of Warren with Phil in the background, but you haven’t seen this one. Y’know how I know? Because before five minutes ago, I hadn’t seen it. And, Enthusiasts, you know how good I am at Dead-picture-seein’. If Dead-picture-seein’ were an Olympic sport, then people would say, “Why is that in the Olympics? It’s not only not a sport, it’s not a thing.” Regardless, I’m spectacular at it. Existing in a society, maintaining relationships, earning money: not great. Knowing whether or not I’ve viewed a particular photo of a semi-defunct choogly-type band? World-class.

The shot is from the energetic-to-the-point-of-being-overheated 6/4/78 at Campus Stadium at UC Santa Barbara (Go Banana Slugs!). Warren was one of three opening acts; the other two–Wa-Koo and Elvin Bishop–went over well, according to contemporaneous reports, but Warren was more vodka than man in 1978, and so he mocked the crowd for being hippies and got booed. (Corry and his esteemed Commentators over at Lost Live Dead shed some more light on the day.)

Warren would make amends with the band, opening up for them again in ’80, ’83, and ’84, but on this hot day in California, he pooched it so hard that even fucking Keith was laughing at him.

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