My dad gave me an LP of Excitable Boy for xmas. A month later I get around to playing it and it's been the only record on my turntable for a week, Excitable Boy being the anthem I must hear before embarking to the J-O-B. And it's because of the meaning I sense in it and empathize with. Excitable Boy seems more autobiographical than anything. No political stance on coddling the mentally disturbed. It strikes me more as a balance between wish-fulfilment and urge-denial. Zevon ended up in rehab a few times, indulging himself in drugs and drink. He probably wanted to bite that usherette's leg. And reading an article in Rolling Stone about the album we learn:
In the opening lines of the title song from Warren Zevon's new album, Excitable Boy, the title character smears Sunday pot roast all over his chest. It seemed to me only reasonable to ask why. "Because he likes it so much. Because my wife's such a great cook, of which I'm physical evidence," says the author, poking his thickening middle. "And it happened, it really happened. She made an amazing pot roast and I just opened my shirt and smeared it on my chest."
Just as he admires the London werewolve's tailor, part of him burns to slip the restraints of civilization and wallow in the ecstatic sensuality that abounded in his own southern California. That's the part of himself that Excitable Boy was written for. Props to AlmightyTim for the Little Suzie insight. That must surely speak to his ideas on music, a subject I have no business commenting on.
My dad gave me an LP of Excitable Boy for xmas. A month later I get around to playing it and it's been the only record on my turntable for a week, Excitable Boy being the anthem I must hear before embarking to the J-O-B. And it's because of the meaning I sense in it and empathize with. Excitable Boy seems more autobiographical than anything. No political stance on coddling the mentally disturbed. It strikes me more as a balance between wish-fulfilment and urge-denial. Zevon ended up in rehab a few times, indulging himself in drugs and drink. He probably wanted to bite that usherette's leg. And reading an article in Rolling Stone about the album we learn:
In the opening lines of the title song from Warren Zevon's new album, Excitable Boy, the title character smears Sunday pot roast all over his chest. It seemed to me only reasonable to ask why. "Because he likes it so much. Because my wife's such a great cook, of which I'm physical evidence," says the author, poking his thickening middle. "And it happened, it really happened. She made an amazing pot roast and I just opened my shirt and smeared it on my chest."
Just as he admires the London werewolve's tailor, part of him burns to slip the restraints of civilization and wallow in the ecstatic sensuality that abounded in his own southern California. That's the part of himself that Excitable Boy was written for. Props to AlmightyTim for the Little Suzie insight. That must surely speak to his ideas on music, a subject I have no business commenting on.