This photo was not uploaded because this memorial already has 20 photos You may not upload any more photos to this memorial Announcing to the press that he had terminal cancer, he stated with his traditional wry humor: "It would be a shame if I didn't make it to see the next James Bond movie." Read More It includes the poignant "Keep Me in Your Heart," an edgy "Disorder in the House" and a remake of Bob Dylan's "Knockin' on Heaven's Door." In September of 2001, he was diagnosed with lung cancer, said to be caused by exposure to asbestos particulates. In his final months, he summoned the energy to complete a last album, "The Wind," released in August 2003. His writing style spanned musical genres from hard-driving rock to folk, as well as classical, polka and other influences. Before gaining his own celebrity, he wrote hit songs in the early 1970s for singer Linda Ronstadt, including "Poor, Poor Pitiful Me," "Carmelita" and "Hasten Down the Wind." He then recorded his own albums, "Warren Zevon" and "Excitable Boy," which brought him great popular and critical acclaim. An acclaimed songwriter, he wrote and recorded the 1970s hit song "Werewolves of London," among many other memorable tunes containing a sardonic wit and darkly humorous themes. Announcing to the press that he had terminal cancer, he stated with his traditional wry humor: "It would be a shame if I didn't make it to see the next James Bond movie." He plays the powerful ballad “Mutineer,” a song with a fitting epitaph for Zevon’s life: “ain’t no room on board for the insincere.Rock Musician. When Letterman asks Zevon if he’s learned something Dave doesn’t know about life and death, Zevon responds with the endlessly quotable line, “not unless I know how much you’re supposed to enjoy every sandwich.” In the clip above, watch one of Zevon’s final performances on the same show. The talk is frank and filled with mordant wit, as was Zevon’s way, and Letterman confesses he’s astounded at his longtime friend’s ability to keep his sense of humor.
The two attempt light banter but lapse occasionally into awkward pauses as they discuss Zevon’s diagnosis. At the top of the post, you can see Zevon’s final appearance on Letterman’s show. In addition to the aforementioned luminaries, Zevon’s career was boosted by members of R.E.M., with whom he recorded under the name Hindu Love Gods, and-most visibly and consistently-by David Letterman, who had a twenty year relationship with Zevon as his guest and sometime substitute band leader. Whether it was his misanthropic commitment to his cynicism-as Allmusic describes his personality-that sidelined him or his struggles with acute alcoholism isn’t entirely clear, but he always had his champions among critics and peers alike. Always on the cusp of stardom but never quite a star like peers and former roommates Lindsey Buckingham, Stevie Nicks, and Jackson Browne, Zevon was nevertheless one of the most well-regarded writers of the L.A. There’s so much Zevon in so many troubadours I love: Joe Jackson, Tom Waits, Springsteen. I arrived at the Zevon party late, but I finally showed up, and came to understand why almost every musician from the seventies and eighties that I admire deeply admires Warren Zevon and his hardbitten, witty, and unsentimental narrative style. I remember the day of his passing well, but at the time I was a little baffled by the enormous number of tributes to the musician, who I vaguely thought of (stupidly) as a novelty songwriter vaguely associated with the L.A. Singer/songwriter Warren Zevon died of lung cancer ten years ago tomorrow.
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