![]() Let’s take grim all the way – not like ‘We’re kind of sad, but trying to cheer you up.’ If it’s not funny anymore – too bad.” I think we all agreed it should be unremittingly grim. In that 1989 interview, Zevon was discussing his current album, a semi-conceptual effort, “Transverse City,” and he described it as “cheerily morbid. (It’s also the title his ex-wife Crystal Zevon chose when she wrote his warts-and-all biography – with his blessing – some decades later.)Īnd so, death was part of our conversation. Zevon wrote a lot of death-related songs over the years, including one on his major label debut album called “I’ll Sleep When I’m Dead.” It’s a smashing, crescendo-laden rocker about proudly living the reckless life now and worrying about consequences later. Zevon died from mesothelioma, a rare cancer of the membrane around the lungs. ![]() “A decade of sobriety out the window because you’re having a beer.” It could sometimes be un-nerving if you didn’t know him well. Zevon often took time to think before responding. Zevon paused for a few moments after my beer order. “That’s why I did it and why I don’t talk about it. “It was a survival issue,” he said, about putting the vodka down. There was a Rolling Stone cover story in 1981, “The Crackup and Resurrection of Warren Zevon.” But he didn’t talk much about it. Should I not have done that?”Įveryone knew Zevon was a recovering alcoholic. And then, alarmed, I blurted out, “Oh shit, I’m sorry. The waiter came and we ordered beverages, a beer for me, a Diet Coke for him. But that’s another story.) This is an excerpt of some of what I’ve written over the years: It was the fall of 1989 and I was having lunch with Zevon at Musso & Frank’s, the hip West Hollywood eatery where he was a regular. (Our friendship was not without its conflict, as with most of his relationships. I knew the man pretty well, first as fan, then critic, then friend. Warren Zevon died 15 years ago on this date.
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