Sung Locally - Warren Zevon

PALENVILLE — As one drives west through the land of Rip Van Winkle into Palenville on Route 23A before the windy path leading up to Kaaterskill Falls, a large mural on the east-facing wall of the Circle W Market urges travelers to "Enjoy Every Sandwich." It's not an old bit of wisdom from Washington Irving, but a quote from the late singer-songwriter Warren Zevon, who, it was announced this week, will be inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in the Musical Influence Award Category. It's an honor that has evaded the late artist and frustrated fans of the unique lyricist and musician for decades. He is considered a one-hit wonder for some, thanks to his quirky and enduring 1978 hit "Werewolves of London." If people know one Zevon song, that's probably it. But Zevon's body of work includes some of the strangest and most captivating topics in Rock and Roll, from ill-fated Hawaiin vacations and vengeful, headless, machine gunner ghosts to the singer's deeply personal confrontation with death on his final album, The Wind, if you know more than one Warren Zevon song, you probably know many. 

Zevon's early life reads like a story he would have concocted. His father, William "Stumpy" Zevon, a Jewish-Ukranian immigrant, worked for the Los Angeles gangster Mickey Cohen with a carpet store as a front, and his mother was a Mormon housewife. He was a musical prodigy and studied classical music in Igor Stravinsky's home under Robert Craft. When Zevon left home at 16 to pursue a career in music, he drove across the country in a sports car his father had won in a card game. 

Zevon toiled for years trying to make it in the difficult music business and started out primarily selling songs to others. He had small successes. His "He Quit Me" was included in the Midnight Cowboy soundtrack but performed by Lesley Miller. He toured with the Everly Brothers as their keyboardist and bandleader, but the brothers soon split acrimoniously. Zevon then moved to Spain, where he lived with a mercenary, composing and playing pub gigs. In 1976, when Linda Ronstadt recorded Zevon's "Hasten Down the Wind" and made it the title track to her hit album, Zevon's star began to rise. He released an eponymous album that same year to critical acclaim but was still struggling to break through. 1978's Excitable Boy, with "Werewolves of London" as the hit single, became the break the musically brilliant son of a gangster had been dreaming of. 

Popularity-wise, this was Zevon's peak. His career and life became an uneven struggle following his success, a trajectory exquisitely examined in C.M. Kushins' captivating and extensive biography Nothing's Bad Luck: The Life and Times of Warren Zevon. But despite his ups and downs, Zevon never ceased to generate odd tales in his brilliant songs—it's no coincidence some of his best friends were writers. In 2000, Zevon released the critically acclaimed Life'll Kill Ya, an album filled with meditations on death and mortality with Zevon's brand of humor and peculiar sadness woven throughout. Critics hailed it as a return to form and a comeback (and, for the record, my favorite in the Zevon record). He followed it up with another album confronting mortality, My Ride's Here. Perhaps his artistic unconscious was communicating something he did not yet know. In 2002, Zevon was diagnosed with mesothelioma and given only months to live. Shaken, Zevon focused on doing what he did best and gathered his friends to make one final album. 

In 2002, David Letterman, whom Zevon called "the best friend my music has ever had," invited the singer to be the sole guest on The Late Show with David Letterman. By then, it was widely known that Zevon was dying, and on October 30, 2002, he sat down to talk with his pal Dave and to perform his music publicly one last time. Zevon insisted that the show contain humor, of which there was plenty despite the moment's innate somberness. He joked that not going to a doctor for twenty years may have been a "tactical error" and that it was "one of those phobias that really didn't pay off." It was in that interview that Zevon delivered a quote that, in many ways, has become as enduring as his musical legacy. "From your perspective now," asked Letterman of the singer, "do you know something about life or death that maybe I don't?" Zevon took a beat and shifted his head before answering. "Not unless I know how much you're supposed to enjoy every sandwich, you know," replied Zevon with a wry smile. It was the second time he had said the line in the interview, and it quickly became an iconic slogan (whether or not one knows the origin) and advice that anyone visiting Palenville may be reminded of as they pass through. Zevon passed away a year later, on September 7, 2003, just two weeks after the release of his final work.

Maybe an induction into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame doesn't mean much on the grand scale of things. But the grand scale of things is currently a bit bleak, and maybe the Hall finally honoring Warren Zevon for his artistry is the sandwich we should all take a moment to enjoy right now.