"His albums are dense with stories and brilliant images," adds King. "Dad's later music got smarter and had more wisdom with less craziness, but it never lost its dark humour," says his son, Jordan Zevon. But for his friends, it is the slower, sweeter but still just as lyrically adept songs that show Zevon off at his best, such as Desperados Under the Eaves, which Hiaasen describes as "one of the finest, coolest rock songs ever written", and Boom Boom Mancini ("One of the coldest appraisals of the sport of boxing ever written," according to King). These are the big, loud, funny songs for which Zevon is known. Or of course: "I saw a werewolf with a Chinese menu in his hand / Walking through the streets of Soho in the rain / He was looking for a place called Lee Ho Fooks / Gonna get a big dish of chow mein." (Werewolves of London) Nonetheless, the Thompson comparisons are inevitable when evoking a man who wrote song openings such as: "Well, I'm gone to Detox Mansion / Way down on Last Breath Farm / I've been raking leaves with Liza / Me and Liz clean up the yard." (Detox Mansion.) Or this: "I went home with a waitress / The way I always do / How was I to know / She was with the Russians, too?" (Lawyers, Guns and Money)
Even when he was young and high as a kite, he agonised over his lyrics." "But Warren was very much his own writer, and he was more disciplined than Hunter. "Warren was close to Thompson, and their work shared a certain twisted energy," agrees his close friend, the American writer Carl Hiaasen. Photograph: Neal Preston/ Neal Preston/Neal PrestonCORBIS Who knows why? My dad dutifully wore the cables around his neck on stage, and lit up the Taser." Ariel Zevon recalls once going with her dad to a gig in Colorado and Thompson was waiting for them outside in his RV: "He invited Dad in, then ceremoniously draped some huge fancy cables around his neck and handed him a Taser. Hunter S Thompson was another literary friend and there were definite overlaps of sensibility between the two men: their unforgiving satire, their hard-living, their occasionally incomprehensible dark humour. "One thing I regret," says his friend, Stephen King, "is that we never got a chance to collaborate on a song or story." In recompense, King has dedicated his forthcoming novel, Dr Sleep, to Zevon. But when it comes to Zevon, because his music is so highly literate and based on storytelling, the more apt comparisons are with writers. When trying to describe a musician's style, the usual tactic is to compare him to other musicians. He saw things with a jaundiced eye that still got the humanity of things." I always envied that part of his ability and talent." David Crosby also writes in the same book: "He was and remains one of my favourite songwriters. In Crystal Zevon's 2007 biography of her late ex-husband, I'll Sleep When I'm Dead: the Dirty Life and Times of Warren Zevon, Springsteen writes, " would write something that had real meaning, and it was funny, too. Other fans included Jackson Browne, Bruce Springsteen, Ry Cooder, Emmylou Harris, Don Henley, Tom Petty, Dwight Yoakam, Billy Bob Thornton and T Bone Burnett, who played with Zevon on his last album.
Zevon was an artist's artist, relatively little known to the public but revered by the best of his contemporaries: Bob Dylan was a great admirer. But it's hardly the whole man and it's a version that doesn't come anywhere near to explaining why his fans and friends loved him and still love him so deeply. This is the Zevon that became the cult legend: the hard-drinking, satire-spitting writer of biting rock'n'roll songs such as Werewolves of London, the song for which he is best known. And when he was drinking, he was almost unbearable: erratic, violent, emotionally absent, impossible. As a teenager, I was angry that he wasn't there for me as a kid, angry at him for mistreating my mom," says his and Crystal's daughter, Ariel. As a father, he was largely absent until his son and daughter were adults: "He had no language for dealing with children. "He had tonnes of charisma, but when he didn't want people coming up to him, he had charisma in reverse," his ex-wife Crystal Zevon remembers.
He was at times intimidating, self-destructive, aloof. But he could also be, as his friends, family and lovers will quickly tell you, a pain in the ass. W arren Zevon, who died a decade ago this September at the far-too-premature age of 56, was a singer, a songwriter and one of the great under-appreciated talents in modern America.