Hollywood Desperado

In the dark hours before dawn, while his pregnant wife Crystal lies asleep, Warren Zevon struggles to compose a symphony in his backyard studio in North Hollywood. It is an ambitious undertaking for a man who by day is a successful rock songwriter. "When I was 13, I got an autograph from Igor Stravinsky," Zevon recalls. That inspired him to start teaching himself harmony and counterpoint and even to bring a few fledgling compositions to the master's home for his inspection. "When puberty hit, I turned to rock," Zevon goes on. "I could see that when the average attention span is three minutes, it would be hard to get people to spend an hour listening to my symphony."

Now that he is 29, his first record, titled simply Warren Zevon (Asylum), is getting some rave reviews. Asks Rolling Stone: "Who could have imagined a concept album about Los Angeles that is funny, enlightening, musical, at moments terrifying and above all funny?" Zevon's high-spirited blend of country rock, bluegrass and churchy harmonies is marred by the fact that he has a raw, gritty voice and cannot sing very well. But neither can Bob Dylan or Randy Newman. Those who come to hear Zevon perform are not purists. They are beguiled by his lyrics, which typically are about Chicano hustlers, Sunset Strip women and hotel-bar bums. A quatrain from his ballad Desperados Under the Eaves: "And if California slides into the ocean/ Like the mystics and statistics say it will/ I predict this motel will be standing/ Until I pay my bill."

Selling Catsup. The outlaw-desperado theme pervades L.A. rock. Even in a city with dozens of thriving clubs and recording studios, rock's musical desperados can be hard pressed to scratch out a living. The Chicago-born Zevon did a stint at a Los Angeles advertising agency, composing a jingle for Camaro cars as well as ditties for Boone's Farm Wines. "They wanted folky, Gordon Lightfoot commercials," he remembers. "It was immensely profitable (up to $3,000 per ad) but selling catsup and cheap wine is truly abrasive to the soul."

Though Zevon very much reflects the tone of youthful alienation heard in Los Angeles country rock, he protests at being labeled simply a Los Angeles songwriter. His next album, he says, will include songs about a sojourn in Europe last year. Then too there is his classical composition. "I'm not about to make a concept album of Hamlet playing the guitar," he says. "I just want to work on my symphony in the early mornings." He has been experimenting with atonality and describes his symphony as being in the tradition of Berg and Bartok. Perhaps, when it is finished, it will be about three minutes long.

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