Warren Zevon’s fascination with firearms ran through his music like vodka through his veins. I like this song for its subtle humor. “Roland aimed his Thompson gun, he didn’t say a word.” Well he wouldn’t would he, what with not having a head and all. I also smile when he inserts “Talkin’ about the man” into the refrain; a gentle hat tip to the call and response pattern in the rhythm and blues genre. And the bit about “They killed to earn their living and to help out the Congolese;” the latter justification added as a thoroughly insincere afterthought. Not to mention my admiration for the pure delight Zevon takes in singing the lines “bleeding gore.” There are plenty of songs about guns out there. But few with Zevon’s wit.
Zevon kinda peaked with "Carmelita." I guess I'm just a sucker for Pioneer Chicken.
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