A troubled but beloved soul

Warren Zevon, who died a decade ago on September 7, at age 56, was a singer, songwriter and one of the great under-appreciated talents in modern America. But he could also be, as his friends, family and lovers can tell you, a pain.

He was at times intimidating, self-destructive, aloof. "He had tonnes of charisma, but when he didn't want people coming up to him, he had charisma in reverse," says his ex-wife Crystal Zevon.

As a father, he was largely absent until his son and daughter were adults. "He had no language for dealing with children. As a teenager, I was angry that he wasn't there for me as a kid, angry at him for mistreating my mom," says his and Crystal's daughter, Ariel. And when he was drinking, he was almost unbearable: erratic, violent, emotionally absent, impossible.

This is the Zevon who became the cult legend: the hard-drinking, satire-spitting writer of biting rock'n'roll songs such as Werewolves of London, the song for which he is best known. But that doesn't come anywhere near to explaining why his fans and friends loved him so deeply and still do.

Zevon was an artist's artist, relatively little known to the public but revered by the best of his contemporaries: Bob Dylan was a great admirer, along with Jackson Browne, Bruce Springsteen, Ry Cooder, Emmylou Harris, Don Henley, Tom Petty, Dwight Yoakam, Billy Bob Thornton and T. Bone Burnett, who played with Zevon on his last album.