The monumental four-and-a-half-hour concert, “Join Me in L.A.: The Songs of Warren Zevon,” wrapped up at the United Theater in downtown Los Angeles on Friday. As the final notes faded from the 32-song set, Jackson Browne, Zevon’s longtime friend, shook his head in admiration, reflecting on the late artist’s unwavering creative integrity.
“Hearing all these incredible songs tonight, it struck me how Warren truly never compromised,” Browne shared in an interview. “He wasn’t interested in diluting his artistry for commercial appeal or chasing hits. He simply poured himself into crafting the best music he possibly could, right up until his last breath. That commitment, that singular devotion, is his ultimate legacy.”
Orchestrated by a trio of Zevon’s closest allies – his son, Jordan; his enduring musical partner Jorge Calderón; and his steadfast advocate, Jackson Browne – the tribute served as both a powerful celebration of Zevon’s catalog and a fitting prelude to his upcoming induction into the prestigious Rock & Roll Hall of Fame.
Zevon’s career path was a complex tapestry of critical praise, limited mainstream success, and often self-destructive tendencies. But perhaps the most poignant chapter arrived with his final act: a sudden cancer diagnosis, which he navigated with remarkable candor, culminating in a touching farewell album before his passing at age 56 in 2003.
(Image: A powerful projection of a young Warren Zevon overlooks the stage during the tribute concert.)
Ironically, it was death in its myriad forms – physical, moral, romantic – that profoundly shaped Zevon’s artistic output. A curious twist of fate suggests that the posthumous accolades he’s gathered, including Grammy Awards for his final album, “The Wind,” might never have materialized had he lived longer. “He almost orchestrated it this way,” Jordan Zevon remarked, hinting at his father’s awareness of his dramatic departure’s potential impact on his legacy. “Dad understood this would be the result.”
Known for his dark, often macabre humor, Zevon also possessed a surprising streak of tender sentimentality. A classically trained musician with a true rock & roll spirit, his literary influences spanned from the subtle depth of Graham Greene to the hardboiled grit of Mickey Spillane. His music, consequently, became a unique fusion of intellect and raw power, high art and low culture. Famously, in the 1970s, Jackson Browne once introduced him in concert as “the Ernest Hemingway of the 12-string guitar.” Zevon, ever the iconoclast, quickly corrected him: “No, Jackson — the Charles Bronson of the 12-string guitar.’”
The night’s stellar house band, the Wild Honey Orchestra, comprised a group of talented local musicians under the direction of keyboardist Jordan Summers and drummer Nick Vincent. They were further elevated by several key Zevon session veterans, including Rick Marotta, Bob Glaub, and Leland Sklar, adding an authentic touch to the performances.
The concert’s expansive setlist thoughtfully spanned Zevon’s entire career, reaching back to his early days in the 1960s pop duo Lyme & Cybelle. Steve Stanley and Kristi Callan delivered a charming rendition of the airy psychedelic tune “Follow Me” (1966). Later, Dennis Diken of the Smithereens, alongside Scott McCaughey (Young Fresh Fellows) and David Marks (formerly of the Beach Boys), tore through “Outside Chance,” a lively, Beatlesque rock-and-roll number.
Zevon’s pop phase was brief; his true musical calling lay in a different direction. Following a solo hard-rock album in 1969, he dedicated the early 1970s to cultivating a unique songwriting style, laying the groundwork for the acclaimed and distinctive sound that would define his most cherished work later that decade.
(Image: A theater marquee brightly announces ‘Wild Honey & Zevon Family Present the Songs of Warren Zevon’.)
These later classics, including powerful anthems like “Excitable Boy” and “I’ll Sleep When I’m Dead,” were compellingly interpreted by country music talent Shooter Jennings, who masterfully channeled Zevon’s distinctive vocal style. Highlights from Zevon’s 1980s output, which emerged after a challenging period of personal struggles and rehabilitation, featured veteran singer-songwriters John Wesley Harding and Marshall Crenshaw. Both artists imbued poignant tracks like “Reconsider Me” and “Sentimental Hygiene” with a profound, authentic resonance.
Despite his cultivated literary image and classical training (he was notably mentored by Igor Stravinsky in his youth), Zevon’s music often retained a raw, unpretentious quality. He frequently described himself as a “folk singer,” embracing the genre’s ancient traditions. His vast catalog is rich with shanties, marching rhythms, rebellious anthems, and poignant funeral laments.
Pianist and singer Leslie Mendelson beautifully unearthed the profound solemnity within the seafaring narrative “Mutineer.” Steve Wynn of the Dream Syndicate, meanwhile, powerfully conveyed the raw violence and desperation of “Play It All Night Long.” Country icon Dwight Yoakam, commanding the stage in a duster and Stetson, left his unmistakable mark on the junkie-themed “Carmelita,” injecting a bluegrass twang into his plea: “I’m all strung out on her-o-in on the outskirts of town.”
Though Zevon’s compositions frequently delved into the bleaker sides of human existence, the concert also illuminated a lesser-recognized spiritual depth in his work. Born to a Jewish father and a Mormon mother, Zevon’s spirituality was, in the words of his literary hero Graham Greene, “a troubled, paradoxical faith.” Nevertheless, a palpable sense of grace permeated numerous performances throughout the evening at the United Theater.
(Image: Jackson Browne passionately performs, playing an acoustic guitar and singing onstage.)
“Warren’s songs possess an inherent gospel quality,” Browne noted. “He might not have had the vocal style to fully deliver that himself, but certain performers naturally evoke it, simply through the raw emotion they infuse into the lyrics.”
R&B veteran Billy Valentine exemplified this perfectly, delivering a breathtaking “Accidentally Like a Martyr” that tapped into both the song’s soulful anguish and its underlying gospel hope, prompting a standing ovation from the over 1,600 attendees. Susan Cowsill’s rendition of “Mohammed’s Radio” was equally moving. Cowsill had recorded the song as a solo effort in 1976, predating both Zevon’s own release and Linda Ronstadt’s charting version. Her soaring soprano added delicate new layers, affirming Zevon’s exceptional melodic craftsmanship.
Jorge Calderón, a vocalist with a tender touch, performed sparse, elegiac versions of songs he co-wrote with Zevon in his final years, notably a poignant “Keep Me in Your Heart.” Jordan Zevon, on the other hand, clearly enjoyed diving into his father’s more audacious character studies, including “Monkey Wash Donkey Rinse” and “Lawyers, Guns and Money.” Yet, during “Studebaker” — a lesser-known gem from his father’s catalog — he softened, revealing an profound, existential beauty in its sorrowful conclusion: “I’m up against it all like a leaf against the wind / And that Studebaker keeps on breakin’ down again.”
(Video: A short, looping video clip showcasing highlights from the Warren Zevon tribute concert.)
As the concert drew to a close with the entire ensemble uniting for a spirited performance of Zevon’s sole mainstream hit, “Werewolves of London,” the evening’s true emotional peak had arrived earlier. It was when Jackson Browne delivered a stunning, string-laden rendition of “Desperados Under the Eaves.”
Considered by many to be Zevon’s masterpiece, the song opens within the faded grandeur of the Hollywood Hawaiian Hotel, evoking Nathanael West’s “dream dump.” Its protagonist – a thinly disguised Zevon – grapples with the shakes of alcoholism, anticipating California’s fated, catastrophic earthquake. The narrative concludes with a haunting coda: an air-conditioner’s hum, transformed into a solemn hymn, pleading for him to “Look away, down Gower Avenue.”
Browne’s powerful delivery brought a sudden surge of emotion through the audience; many were openly wiping away tears. “At its core, people truly listened to Warren,” Browne reflected after the performance. “They listened because they sought something meaningful, and by that measure, he consistently delivered beyond expectation.”
A quick note: An earlier version of this piece mistakenly referred to a performer as Kristi Callahan; her correct name is Kristi Callan. Additionally, a song performed at the tribute was initially misidentified as “Splendid Isolation” when it was, in fact, “Sentimental Hygiene.” We’ve made these corrections.
