The first time I saw Warren Zevon in concert was at the Student Union of the University of Arizona in Tucson in the late ’70s.
That time it was a solo show, just him and his piano in a small, intimate setting.
If you had told me then that 20 years later, an artist of his talent, depth and insight would still be playing the same sized rooms, I would’ve said you were nuts. After all, there has to be some justice in the world, doesn’t there?
Nope. Not in politics, true love or pop music.
Last week, f’r instance, boy-band of the moment N’Sync sold two and a half million copies of their latest syrupy, prefabricated swill, while Warren was lucky to move a miserly 2,345 units of his terrific new collection, “Life’ll Kill Ya” off of store shelves.
So there you go. The state of popular music at the dawn of the century, in a nutshell.
N’Sync will play Dodger Stadium this summer — and probably sell it out — while Warren Zevon continues his long languish on the pop-culture periphery, writing timeless classics for a small, but discriminating, handful of fellow artists, long-time fans and music critics.
I try not to let it make me crazy. Really, I do.
Happily, Warren still bothers coming to town when he has a new release to support. I caught him last week at the Coach House in San Juan Capistrano.
The set that night leaned heavily on material from the new album, one of his best in years. Recreating the acoustic intimacy of that record, Warren again performed accompanied only by himself on guitar and harmonica, or piano.
Judging by just the song titles, you might think he wrote a lot of novelty songs: “Roland The Headless Thompson Gunner,” “Things To Do In Denver When You’re Dead,” etc. Until you hear the voice singing them.
The Voice has a deep, weary gravity that adds a resonant weight to lines that, in less dangerous hands, might come off trite, cutesy or throwaway.
It was a wonderful show — sorry you missed it! — highlighted by beautifully sung versions of two of the new disc’s standout ballads, the bittersweet “Hostage-O” and the twisted, prayer-like “Don’t Let Us Get Sick.”
I guess, in the face of the vast indifference of the record-buying public, I should be grateful Warren’s still writing, recording and touring at all.
Opener Jill Sobule was nothing short of a revelation. You may remember her big KROQ/MTV hit from a couple years back, “I Kissed a Girl.” Like Warren and his early hit “Werewolves of London,” that success has become her burden by pigeonholing her as a One-Novelty-Hit-Wonder.
Not so, not so!
Also performing solo acoustic, she opened up her set with a gentle, pleading number called “Don’t (bleep) With Me” that couldn’t have been more delightful.
Coming off like a less-damaged, little-girl Sinead O’Connor, Sobule was sweet and caustic and beguiling and totally engaging. Her material is clever and topical and even pop-referential (which I usually hate) without being precocious or cloying.
I would predict a bright future, except, like Warren, it looks like she might remain a prisoner of her early success — and the culture’s knee-jerk pandering to the lowest common denominator — forever.
©2000 Gazette Newspapers
