Zevon Song of the Week #34
haro...@yahoo.ca
Category: Unreleased
"I heard somebody singing sweet and soulful on the radio ..."
On the Wednesday before New Year's Eve, Mike Marrone's new co-host on
The Loft on XM, Jerry Rubino, included Studebaker in one of his mixes.
I always enjoy being surprised by a Zevon tune on the radio (I also
heard WWOL over the holidays on a Vancouver classic rock station, which
was no surprise at all), but in the case of Studebaker you get two
Zevons for the price of one.
The reason I'm putting the song in a new category called Unreleased is
because we have yet to hear Warren's original late-sixties performance
of the song. Other upcoming entries that will fall in this category
include Figurine and Bujumbura (each available on various concert
boots), The Wind, and Warm Rain.
Lyrically, Studebaker brings to mind The Factory-both songs are
socially conscious tales of the working poor, individuals who would
like to move up but are struggling to get by. How many people are in
this group? Millions? Billions? However many, Warren captures the
hardness of their lives as only he can, directly and without his
narrators projecting self-pity. It's pain and struggle, but they're
trying as hard as they can.
In Studebaker, the frustration of the narrator's life is taken out
mostly on his car-"My damn Studebaker keeps on breaking down again."
He just wants to go from Monterey to Fresno (not sure how many miles
that is), but his car won't let him.
But most people, when their cars break down, don't feel like they're
"up against it all, like a leaf against the wind". This guy does,
because he has bigger problems than just his car. He wants to get out
of the fishery, and he also has a drinking problem. The song is
obviously not completely autobiographical (did Warren ever have a job
other than musician?) but some elements ring too true, particularly
"only half a half-pint of vodka left". It's difficult not to conclude
that Warren's infamous love of vodka started early in his life.
Studebaker was written in the sixties. During Warren's first appearance
on Letterman in 1982, in a conversation as memorable as the "enjoy
every sandwich" segment twenty years later, the two men had this
interchange:
(Dave, while holding up the LP cover for The Envoy, introduces Warren
as "one of the most repected and controversial singers and songwriters
in popular music". He also cites the "excellent reviews" being garnered
by The Envoy-not enough to merit a U.S. CD release to date,
unfortunately.)
DL: Can I ask you about when you, uh, started "celebrating" a little
more frequently than you oughtta be?
WZ: It was kind of a continuing thing, David. I've been celebrating
with nothing to celebrate about actually for years.
DL: I read an article about this in a publication that was one of the
most depressing things I've ever read. You were pretty much just
bottomed out. (Warren nods in agreement). And at one point you were in
some facility and they gathered friends of yours. What was the purpose
of that?
WZ: It's called intervention therapy. I think they used it on Billy
Carter too. They get all your closest friends together and they
confront you with the things you don't remember having done when you
were drunk. You realize among other things that you're not going to
have anyone to drink with anymore, so the effect is pretty
overwhelming. It's pretty convincing.
DL: How much ... I'm always interested in how much you were actually,
you know, consuming.
WZ: Really?
DL: Yeah.
WZ: A couple of quarts of vodka a day.
DL: Hmm ... hmm ... hmm. This is an amazing testament not only to you
but to the resiliency of the human system. (Some nervous audience
laughs can be heard.)
WZ: I thought so too.
DL: So this is all over and things are pretty positive now in your
life, aren't they?
WZ: Yeah, they're very positive, I'm very happy.
As we know now, Warren wasn't out of the woods yet. It took five years
before he released another album (Sentimental Hygiene) and appeared
again on Letterman (to perform Boom Boom Mancini).
The scope of his problem was made clear by the measurement units he
cited. Quarts, half-pints-man, I like alcohol as much as the next
guy, but these are quantities with which I am totally unfamiliar. Just
hearing that two quart figure again makes me weak in the knees. Warren
truly had some major Russian blood running through his veins.
Jordan has quite a bit of company, both new and old, in his
performance. He himself plays the piano, accompanied by Waddy on
acoustic guitar, Jorge on bass, Mr. Dave on on lap steel (they're the
old), plus Noah Shain on drums, Jordan Summers on organ, Evan Frankfort
on guitar and percussion, and three more singers on backing vocals, the
most notable of whom is the son of another well-known singer-songwriter
(hint: last name is Dylan).
The song is most noteworthy for Jordan's vocal. He captures the
melancholy of the song exquisitely, and buttresses it with the anomie
of the introductory piano chords. Virtually nobody disagrees on this
point-a scroll through the numerous customer reviews of EES at
amazon.com reveals that everyone likes both Studebaker and Jordan's
rendition. The harshest comment I saw there was someone who called the
song "decent". More typical is the following: "Another great highlight
of this disc is Jordan Zevon's "Studebaker." He sounds a lot like his
dad, and the track has me hitting the repeat button."
Echoing a common theme from prior songs of the week, I also really
enjoy the Lindley guitar. It's subtle, you might not have even noticed
it before, but once you do, you become aware of how much it adds to
Studebaker's bleak atmosphere.
As for the car itself, don't ask me. I've never owned an American-made
automobile. Only had three, all made by Japanese companies whose names
end with "a" (Mazda, Toyota, and Honda). None of them has ever broken
down. Come to think of it, I've never been up against it all, either.
I've been very lucky.
But since the EES tribute album came out, I've wondered why Warren
never released Studebaker. I mean, Excitable Boy only has nine songs on
it, there was certainly room for one more. Warren must have judged it
more harshly than we all here do.
This year marks the 25-year anniversary of the release of The Envoy.
While it would be nice to see both it and Stand In The Fire make their
way onto CD, it's not that big a deal for most of us who already have
these albums on either vinyl and/or CD-R. I have both of them both
ways.
But the Zevon songs that have still not been heard by most of us should
not be sitting on a shelf. What would be really special is if we, like
Carl Hiaasen and Senator Steve and the other members of the privileged
few, could all hear them. That's my wish for everyone here for 2007.
Categories to date
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Addiction and Recovery: 3
Cover: 4
Family: 2
Geopolitical: 1
History: 1
Law and Order: 1
Love-Gone-Wrong: 6
Mortality: 2
Party: 1
Satire: 3
Social Commentary: 8
Sports: 1
Unreleased: 1