XMLSICnMadder MusicnSomething is happening in the arenanof contemporary music which seems tonindicate that it—in some cases, atnleast—is in a state of progressive ferment;nothers might simply define it asnschizophrenia. Neil Young was once,nnot so many years ago, a Canadiannfolksinger. The themes and musicalnflavor (e.g., “Cowgirl in the Sand” andn”The Emperor of Wyoming,” respectively)nwere in the Western (i.e., cowboy,nnot civilization) tradition. He eventuallynmoved to electrically powerednmusic, but even then was producingnalbums with earthy titles like After thenGold Rush and Harvest. “Oh, LonesomenMe” campfire-style music continued, yetnsocially relevant lyrics (e.g., “I’ve seennthe needle and the damage done”) creptnin and would do so until it seemed thatnYoung would be consumed in a postromanticnnihilism (“It’s better to bumnout than to rust”). But he endured. Youngnhas ridden his vector to the point wherenhe, a once-acoustical musician, nownruns some of his earlier pastoral musicnthrough a digital device so that hensounds like a Star Wars cantina creaturenon his most recent album. Trans.nOn the other hand there’s BrucenSpringsteen. The New Jersey native’snearly music isn’t electronic; it is, well,nAshbury Park: horns, hard bass runs,nsolid whacks on the high-hat. It is citynmusic. When Springsteen sings that henis “born to run,” he doesn’t mean in anpair of Nikes but on a Harley. But lastnyear he sat in a room with a few instruments—^guitars,nharmonicas—and recordingnequipment and eventuallynemerged with Nebraska, which hasnmore in common with Neil Young’snearly music than with Springsteen’snown earlier efforts. (While Nebraskanconcentrates on the heartland, it alsonfeatures a cut about Atlantic City that Insuspect Louis Malle might consider addingnto his film about that sad state, shouldnit make another round.) Between the extremesnof Young and Springsteen is War­nren Zevon, who was recently on a tOurnthat brought him through the Midwest.nAny boy growing up in America vfhonhas the urge to write poetry is branded andeviate. Boys are supposed to playnbaseball and similar games. Even playingnwith matches is more acceptable. Zevonnis a talented songwriter. He didn’t becomenone overnight. Zevon, who is farnbeyond those punk retardates whonchain together inane grunts that are supposednto be meaningful and profound,nis, given the acceptance of verse in thisncountry, compelled to write topicalnlyrics to which some may object on thengrounds of “aesthetics.” Those peoplenfail to acknowledge that well-writtennsong lyrics are a form of poetry and thatnpoetry isn’t necessarily limited to musingnon the inefiable (vide Swift’s “Cassinusnand Peter”). Zevon’s most recent recording.nThe Envoy, for example, includesnpieces on modem diplomacy; the deathnof not a “pusher” but a salesman ofn”pharmaceuticals” (note: cocaine andnother so-called “recreational” dmgs, asnevidenced by the frothy media handlingnof the arrest of John DeLorean, arenachieving a “clean” status in everwideningncircles; heroin is still consideredn”dirty,” and so must be forcednnnupon a first-time user: pushed); and thennecrophilia associated with Elvis Presley.nIt’s not pretty, but neither are the war innLebanon, illegal narcotics, nor semireligiousnfaith in a pyrite idol.nThe American lyrical tradition in then20th century has two poles. One wringsnvariations from “the moon in June”;nwhen it tries to get dourly emotional itngoes as far as to lilt, “raindrops keep Mingnon my head.” The other, when upbeat,ntells of the “backdoor man” (“the menndon’t know, but the little girls understand”);nwhen it is down, down looksnlike it is up. Zevon is a partisan of thenlatter. Although he can’t be defined as anblues singer, he does have similaritiesnwith those who do shout the blues, bothnin content and style. That is, Zevonndoesn’t have a voice that is music to thenears of either middle-of-the-road ornchain-and-leather-clad-mongrel lovers.nZevon sounds as if his rites of passagenincluded drinking a can of burningnStemo: his voice is deep, raw, raspy.nPerhaps because of that, Zevon makesnextensive use of backup musicians onnhis recordings. Indeed, on his Bad LucknStreak in Dancing School he employsnstrings to provide bridges (the individualnsongs aren’t pretty, though: the titlentrack is about Zevon’s stm^e withnalcoholism). In essence, Zevon is likenNeil Young at midpoint or pre-NdfraskanBruce Springsteen. However, on hisn1983 tour Zevon appeared with six- andntwelve-string guitars, harmonica, and angrand piano. There were no southernnCalifornia session men to smooth thenedges; the stage presentation was unprocessed.nWhile the signs seem to havenconflicting messages (e.g.. Young pointsnto technology; Springsteen and Zevonnare reconsidering Orpheus), one thingnis clear: there is a stiU-amorphous butnvaguely definable change occurring inncontemporary American music thatnmay mark a temporary end to its currentnbaleful condition. Dni^^37nMay 1983n