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Review of Sentimental Hygiene
by Steve Roeser
Note for Note, Fall 1987
reprinted with permission of the author
For
his first album in five years, the irrepressible Zevon recruited Michael
Stipe's bandmates--
Bill Berry, Peter Buck and Mike Mills (a.k.a. R.E.M.)-- to help him flesh
out ten excellent new songs, seven of which he wrote on his own.
Zevon's been
rather low-profile in the '80s. On the strength of his most (in)famous
song-- "Werewolves Of London"-- being included by producer Robbie
Robertson on the recent
"Color Of Money" soundtrack LP, a greatest hits album appeared
on the marked shortly thereafter, paving the way for an all-new effort
on a label new to this artist. Perhaps "Sentimental Hygiene"
doesn't quite measure up to his 1978 masterpiece Excitable Boy,
but that does not mean Warren Zevon has lost his touch. Maybe he's a bit
saner than he was then (and only a slightly crazed individual could have
come up with the songs on E.B. and performed them as he did), but
no less gifted as a singer/songwriter.
Once again,
Zevon's primary theme is the desperate need for love, and the title cut
gets right to the point. With Neil Young's electric guitar howling above
the mix, Zevon's voice is like a plaintive cry in the urban wilderness.
Like Travis Bickle in his own "Taxi Driver" hell, Zevon is portraying
a character looking everywhere he turns for that one special thing that
will keep him from being driven over the edge-- a real, sincere, understanding
connection with another human being.
In softer terms,
"Reconsider Me" and "The Heartache" are two sides of
the same coin of love. In both songs the singer is alone, but in the first
he still has hope that things can be patched up and worked out for the
good. IN sthe second, he is resigned to an existence without true love.
This is rock music for mature listeners. For, after all, what adult among
us has not felt the emotions that these songs describe?
But lest anyone
think this album is mired in seriousness, au contraire! The zany
side of Zevon is never kept long in check, which is a large part of his
charm. "Detox Mansion" is an (of course) totally irreverent commentary
on his own chemical dependency rehab, replete with references to his fellow
patients (guess who): 'I been rakin' leaves with Liza, me and Liz clean
up the yard.' "Bad Karma" features a shimmering sitar and
doomsday lyrics, while "Even A Dog Can Shake Hands" humorously
depicts Warren's ongoing struggle to elude con artists and rotten business
propositions.
"The Factory",
featuring a hungry young harmonica player named Bob Dylan blowing a mean
piece between verses, is as good a working class hero's story as Bruce
Springsteen ever told, and in just over two minutes to boot.
Speaking of
Dylan, Warren takes a page from Bob's topical-biography-tune-as-tribute
book (a la "Hurricane") with his power-punching "Boom Boom
Mancini," which defends Boom Boom and the sport of boxing as staunchly
as any champ ever defended his title. As an extra bonus, Warren proves
with his jazzy piano outro on this tune that his chops aren't in such bad
shape either.
In addition
to the above-named talent, the list of supporting players on this record
should indicate just how respected Zevon is in the music world-- Waddy
Wachtel (who added so much to the rich sound of Excitable Boy),
Don Henley, Jennifer Warnes, Mike Campbell, Brian Setzer, David Lindley,
etc. Warren Zevon is no lightweight and with Sentimental Hygiene
he shows that he's still got the juice to go the distance. If you like
your rock 'n roll shot through with passion, intelligence and humor, Warren
Zevon is most certainly your man.