Various Artists – Enjoy Every Sandwich:The Songs Of Warren Zevon

In the end, Warren Zevon is probably better known for how he lived, and the stubborn grace with which he died, than for the songs he wrote. Perhaps had his demons spoken with less force, he’d have written more enduring songs, or none at all. He wrote plenty, anyway.

To his final record label, then, comes the task of celebrating those songs. That Zevon numbered among his friends and admirers Bruce Springsteen, Bob Dylan, and very early supporter Jackson Browne suggests only what might have been possible, not quite what came to pass. As is too often the case, too many of the covers here only leave one reaching for the original.

Springsteen’s reading of “My Ride’s Here” is wise and world-weary, and — recorded just days after Zevon’s passing — filled with sadness. Unhappily, it’s a live track (as is Dylan’s “Mutineer”, which sounds like a really good audience tape); live cuts on tribute discs bespeak a certain lack of commitment or failure of planning. In this case, it seems more a sequencing error, as Springsteen’s contribution would’ve made a far better leadoff track than Don Henley’s unexciting “Searching For A Heart”.

Few artists dare imagine the songs in fresh contexts, and those who do are pushed to the back of the disc. Jill Sobule turns in an intimate and spot-on “Don’t Let Us Get Sick”, while the Pixies (ah, welcome back) give an expert and glorious deconstruction to “Ain’t That Pretty At All”. But the surprise is the penultimate track, pairing Jorge Calderon (who co-produced Zevon’s The Wind and co-executive-produced this disc with Jordan Zevon) and Jennifer Warnes. Calderon, about whom I know absolutely nothing, sings with much the same phrasing and diction as Alejandro Escovedo, a similarity made even more apparent when his voice lays against the accompanying strings (arranged by Van Dyke Parks).

The rest is largely drab. Adam Sandler acquits himself admirably on “Werewolves Of London” (though I’d have loved to hear the old bootleg of Jackson Browne missing the notes badly at Bryn Mawr in 1975), but, um, why? Steve Earle is paired with Texas frat roots-rockers Reckless Kelly; the result takes too much edge from “Reconsider Me”.

Given the second-easiest karaoke song of Zevon’s oeuvre, the Wallflowers turn in a curiously flat “Lawyers, Guns And Money”. Old friends Jackson Browne and Bonnie Raitt offer a too comfortable, too slick “Poor Poor Pitiful Me”.

Two new compositions appear. “Studebaker”, sung by Jordan Zevon, with Jakob Dylan backing, is vintage Zevon, sharp and clever; “The Wind” is handled as almost a recitation by Billy Bob Thornton (OK, that’s two actors) and given almost a Mickey Newbury/Scott Walker setting.

But none of it is quite enough. Warren Zevon was full of life, and a little danger. Enjoy Every Sandwich sounds too much like somebody cut all the crust off.