Zevon Song of the Week #30
haro...@yahoo.ca
Category: Social Commentary
"Splendid Isolation is the foreign policy pursued by Britain during the
late 19th century, under the premierships of Benjamin Disraeli and the
Marquess of Salisbury. The term was actually coined by a Canadian M.P.
to praise Britain's lack of involvement in European affairs. There is
much debate between historians regarding the question of whether it was
intended, or whether Britain simply became a victim of its
surroundings."-Wikipedia
Transverse City is arguably Warren's most challenging album. A few
individuals here have cited it as their favourite, but I strongly doubt
that any of them made that decision after a single listen. It's the
kind of work that requires some perseverance, a little elbow grease,
but the effort definitely has its payoff.
Splendid Isolation is in turn almost universally cited as the strongest
track on the disc. As with nearly every Zevon record, I like all the
songs, but my favourites on TC are Splendid Isolation and Nobody's In
Love This Year, which together comprise a very strong one-two punch in
the most populated Zevon lyrical categories, namely Social Commentary
and Love-Gone-Wrong, respectively.
The song is a paean to the joys of solitude, echoing Paul Simon's I Am
a Rock from many years earlier. The narrator wants to live alone, and
be left alone. Like Seinfeld, he abhors the "pop-in", the avoidance of
which could be accomplished most easily by living all alone in the
desert. If you crave splendid isolation, then that particular locale is
indeed your, uh, just desert.
The intent is very clear. What isn't so clear is how closely Warren
identifies with his narrator. Witness Bob Angell's notes regarding
Warren's live performance of Don't Let Us Get Sick (the one that should
have been the bonus track on the Artemis compilation) at Boston's River
Music Hall on November 1, 1999:
"When Warren came to play the River Music Hall, his greeting was
'Hello, I'm not a people person.' Great. Warren was guarded, to say the
least, on the air. He was constantly asking challenging questions, sort
of like being given an I.Q. test on the air. Off the air he was
gleeful. He said he was having "a grand time". Of course, Zevon fans
know that's just Zevon ... a riddle wrapped in an enigma. That's part
of what makes him tick, part of what makes him one of the best
songwriters ever. Now when I see him, I say, 'I'd like to see you bound
and gagged, dragged behind the clownmobile.' He just grins, raises an
eyebrow, and says, 'Nice to see you again, too, Bob.'"
OK, so Warren's not a people person. Who really thought he was,
although we know he had as many "best friends" as most of us have
normal friends. But is he praising the philosophy of splendid
isolation? I've always thought the tone of the song is pejorative, not
the least reason for which is that the repugnant Michael Jackson is
held up as a proponent of the lifestyle. And the payoff line, "Don't
want nothing to do with you", is hardly an admirable sentiment.
And yet ... Warren strolls into the River Music Hall and his first
statement pushes people away. Does that make him a splendid
isolationist? Probably not, but who knows for sure? There's no
certainty where enigmas are concerned.
Perhaps the key to unlocking the song's meaning can be found in these
lines: "I don't want to see their faces. I don't want to hear them
scream." The narrator is recoiling from the pain of human existence,
not necessarily humans themselves. Those who have never been in this
place, however briefly, are either leading charmed lives or are simply
not paying attention. Certain politicians come to mind.
Musically, the song is a powerhouse. On the studio track, Warren plays
both guitar and piano, sharing the former duty with Mike Campbell. But
it's his harmonica that carries the day, a wailing counterpoint that
sets the mood for the often-used Zevon combination of rather depressing
lyrics thrown together with an uplifitng melody. Hey, if it ain't
broken ...
The brilliant Neil Young is also on hand, not for his blazing guitar
(which can be heard on Gridlock) but for a very subtle harmony in the
chorus. Gets one to thinking of possible supergroups ... how about
Crosby, Stills, Nash, Young, and Zevon? I'd sure have paid to see them.
On the live Learning To Flinch, it's just Warren with his 12-string and
harmonica, but the audible audience appreciation is a big plus. The
musical statement is equally powerful to that of the studio version.
Speaking of Neil, here's what Warren had to say in the liner notes for
Splendid Isolation from the 1996 Rhino box set:
"Neil Young sang harmony on this one. We recorded his parts for this
album at his ranch in Northern California, where he has a lot of
animals that run up and stare at people from the city. Neil and I have
played this tune at a couple of festivals; it has a nice chord
progression for jamming, and I use it at every opportunity."
On video, my favourite performances of Splendid Isolation are Warren's
1989 Letterman appearance (Dave holds up the LP cover rather the CD
jewel case, worth it just for that alone), in which Paul and the band
get into it majorly, and the 1990 Night Music with David Sanborn, where
we are treated to a full complement of eight musicians including Zevon
and Sanborn jamming away in perfect unison to a song whose theme is
about being all alone. You have to love the irony.
Splendid Isolation has the distinction of being one of two songs (the
other is Reconsider Me) to be covered on both Zevon tribute albums.
Pete Yorn stays very faithful to Warren's original on EES, while on the
Wampus disc Phil Cody slows things down a bit but otherwise doesn't
change much either. Yorn and Cody are talented, the song itself is of
course great, and I like both covers. However, I do flinch when Cody
sings "Don't want to wake up with someone beside me" instead of "no
one"-ain't someone or no one oughta be playing around with that
Zevonian grammar.
Now, get out of here ... I'd like to be alone for a while.
Categories to date
----------------------
Addiction and Recovery: 3
Cover: 2
Family: 2
Geopolitical: 1
History: 1
Law and Order: 1
Love-Gone-Wrong: 6
Mortality: 2
Party: 1
Satire: 3
Social Commentary: 7
Sports: 1
cc
slightly differently with every tour as the years went by.
I think time will be kind to the "michael jackson in disneyland" line,
unlike some other topical references.
Joanne Corsano
As Howard says, the music is great. I really love the songs that are
recorded with harmonica. That simple little instrument gives the feel
of a live performance, or maybe even a demo, something recorded
spontaneously, not overproduced at all. This tune is very simple in
its instrumentation, proving that often in rock music less is more.
The seamless juxtaposition of the sublime & ridiculous, or at least of
two very different concepts, is a Zevon songwriting trademark. This
trademark makes its appearance immediately in this song. It's clear
that the narrator wants to be alone, but he proposes two starkly
different versions of aloneness: alone in the desert (really alone,
100 miles from the nearest person) to alone in New York (alone in a
crowd, feet from the nearest person, but in reality, just as
isolated).
The writer who is literary enough to write of Georgia O'Keefe
certainly knows when he's using bad grammar, and this song is full of
those double negatives -- "don't want to wake up with no one beside
me." I have wondered if the writer is letting his anger spill out
into his lack of grammar, of if by this misuse of the language he's
saying he'd LIKE to try to fit in with the masses; but I suspect
Warren just liked the way it sounded.
There's one brief mention of an apparent specific individual in the
song, ("don't want nothing to do with you"), hinting that the narrator
has had his heart broken by a specific individual. Or maybe the
narrator is just a hopeless social misfit who is in denial about being
very lonely and trying to convince the listener -- and himself -- that
he's better off alone. If that's the case it can go on the "Sour
Grapes" anthology.
>The intent is very clear. What isn't so clear is how closely Warren
>identifies with his narrator. Witness Bob Angell's notes regarding
>Warren's live performance of Don't Let Us Get Sick (the one that should
>have been the bonus track on the Artemis compilation) at Boston's River
>Music Hall on November 1, 1999:
What's the River Music Hall? Warren was in town -- I saw him at the
Somerville (just outside of Boston) Theater on Halloween 1999 -- was
the "River Music Hall" a radio program? (I think "The River" is -- or
was -- a radio station in Boston.)
Joanne
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Lucy Pfeffa
>It's clear
> that the narrator wants to be alone, but he proposes two starkly
> different versions of aloneness: alone in the desert (really alone,
> 100 miles from the nearest person) to alone in New York (alone in a
> crowd, feet from the nearest person, but in reality, just as
> isolated).
>
always get a kick out of that.
-- Lucy
Howard Roseman
> into his lack of grammar, of if by this misuse of the language he's
> saying he'd LIKE to try to fit in with the masses; but I suspect
> Warren just liked the way it sounded.
>
Warren was a high school dropout, a very smart guy who mostly educated
himself. But my suspicion is he wanted to keep all that "book learnin'"
hidden, that it's not cool in rock to come across as too erudite. I love the
grammatical faux pas, including "Me and a friend of mine" from Seminole
Bingo.
> What's the River Music Hall?
You're right, it's in Boston, and the location for a local radio show. I
used Warren's live performance there of DLUGS as the final track for DVD 8.