On the cover of Life’ll Kill Ya (released 1/25/00), a hirsute Warren Zevon flashes a wry grin fully in keeping with the wicked glint in his eyes. The facial expressions, however, belie the implicit confrontation of mortality that runs through this, his tenth studio album, and its immediate successors, My Ride’s Here and The Wind.
As the songs often are on these three final records of Zevon’s, these original compositions capture the most vulnerable and direct personal expressions of the man’s career. As a result, the foreboding theme becomes progressively credible in the often stentorian voice of the same author who composed (with more than a bit of literacy) the scathing, satirical likes of “Werewolves of London” and “Excitable Boy” as well as anti-hero dramas such as “Roland The Headless Thompson Gunner ” and “Frank and Jesse James.”
The now quarter-century-old Life’ll Kill Ya is imbued with an innate craftsmanship. Rooted in Warren’s years working with the Everly Brothers as well as his experience in the studio with friend and mentor Jackson Browne (who produced Zevon’s Asylum Records debut after getting him signed to the label), the efficiency of the production was no doubt nurtured by Paul Q Kolderie and Sean Slade; like their work with Uncle Tupelo (and others), it reinforces the virtues of material such as the LP’s closing of “Don’t Let Us Get Sick.”
A tentative take on Steve Winwood’s 1980s hit “Back in the High Life Again” hardly belies numerous other cuts overcast with the shadow of death. And that’s not to mention the very graphic design of the long-player: unsettling graphic images of skeletons and one shadowy distorted shot of the artist himself appear on the inside of the CD tray.
Zevon himself otherwise maintains a precarious but trenchant stability beginning with the opening of “I Was In The House When The House Burned Down.” Jaunty, insistent acoustic rhythm guitar supports the gaiety of harmonica, but even more so the tongue-in-cheek lyrics: is the character Warren creates here speaking from the afterlife?
Whether or not this is so, such healthy detachment dominates the forty-plus minutes. That attitude only renders more striking the stark scenarios Zevon conjures up in the title song. Alternately, direct and oblique expressions of emotion gain resonance through the familiar sound of the author’s classically-influenced acoustic piano (deriving from his visits with Igor Stravinsky as a youth).
Along with stout support of long-time collaborator Jorge Calderon and drummer Winston Watson (Bob Dylan), Warren plays various instruments. And he also supplies lead vocals, a couple of which betray early signs of the fatal affliction of mesothelioma diagnosed in 2002: there is noticeable strain in Zevon’s voice during “I’ll Slow You Down” and “Hostage-O.”
Life’ll Kill Ya preceded another beneficence exercise from industry veteran Danny Goldberg and his Artemis Records. 2002’s My Ride’s Here exudes a morbid prescience of things to come even more prevalent than its predecessor, so it only makes sense Warren looks resigned to his fate, peering through the window of the vehicle in which he’s sitting on the front cover.
But the fact is, the retrospect of a quarter century on the preceding record clarifies the overall arc of Zevon’s artistry. Implausible as the circumstances might sound preceding his passing in 2003, the irascible songwriter/musician was not only able to complete one final studio album,The Wind, just as he intended, but Warren also lived long enough to see his daughter Ariel give birth to twins.
In that context, the title of the two-and-a-half decade-old album, Life’ll Kill Ya, takes on new meaning(s).
