It starts with that piano. Three chords. Simple. Thumping. It’s the kind of riff that sounds like a barroom floor feels at 2:00 AM—sticky, slightly dangerous, and impossibly loud. Then comes the howl.
Warren Zevon wasn’t supposed to be a pop star. He was too cynical, too literary, and frankly, too drunk for most of the mid-70s. But in 1978, Werewolves of London clawed its way onto the Billboard Hot 100, eventually peaking at number 21. It’s a song about a monster eating chow mein at a place called Lee Ho Fook’s. It mentions a dead lady’s hair. It name-checks Lon Chaney.
Honestly, it’s a miracle it ever got played on the radio.
Most people know the chorus. Everyone knows the "Ah-hoo!" but very few people actually understand the sheer amount of technical perfection and accidental genius that went into making this track. It wasn’t just a fluke. It was the result of a guy who was basically the F. Scott Fitzgerald of rock and roll getting lucky with a silly idea.
The Joke That Got Out of Hand
The story goes that Phil Everly—yes, that Phil Everly—saw the movie Werewolf of London on television. He turned to Warren Zevon and suggested he write a song with that title. Zevon, being Zevon, didn't sit down to write a horror masterpiece. He wrote a parody.
He wrote it in about fifteen minutes.
His friend Robert "Waddy" Wachtel helped him hammer out the lyrics. They were just trying to be funny. They wanted something that sounded like a nursery rhyme for degenerates. But when they got into the studio, the "funny" song became a technical nightmare.
You’ve probably heard that the rhythm section on this track is legendary. That’s because it’s Mick Fleetwood and John McVie from Fleetwood Mac. At the time, they were the biggest rhythm section on the planet. They were coming off the success of Rumours. They were tight. They were professional.
👉 See also: Finding a One Piece Full Set That Actually Fits Your Shelf and Your Budget
And yet, it took them roughly 60 takes to get the groove right.
Wachtel has spoken in interviews about how difficult it was to capture the specific "swing" of the song. It couldn’t just be a straight rock beat. It had to be heavy but light. It had to be menacing but hilarious. Zevon sat at the piano, banging out those G, C, and D chords over and over until his fingers probably bled.
That Infamous Chow Mein Line
"I saw a werewolf with a Chinese menu in his hand / Walking through the streets of Soho in the rain / He was looking for the place called Lee Ho Fook's / Going to get a big dish of beef chow mein."
There is a real Lee Ho Fook’s. Or there was. It was a famous Cantonese restaurant at 15-16 Gerrard Street in London’s Chinatown. Zevon wasn't just making stuff up for the sake of a rhyme. He was documenting a very specific, slightly grimy version of London that he’d experienced.
The lyrics are filled with these sharp, cinematic cuts.
- A werewolf drinking a pina colada at Trader Vic's.
- His hair being "perfect."
- The juxtaposition of high-end tailoring (Savile Row) with the image of a monster ripping someone’s lungs out.
This is what made Zevon different from his California contemporaries like Jackson Browne or The Eagles. While those guys were writing about sunsets and "the road," Zevon was writing about the darkness hiding in plain sight. He was the guy who brought the noir sensibility of Raymond Chandler into the world of soft rock.
The Production Magic of Waddy Wachtel
Jackson Browne produced the album Excitable Boy, but Waddy Wachtel was the one who really shaped the sound of the title track’s predecessor. The guitar solo on Werewolves of London is a masterpiece of restraint. It’s nasty. It’s biting. It mimics the growl of the creature itself.
✨ Don't miss: Evil Kermit: Why We Still Can’t Stop Listening to our Inner Saboteur
Wachtel didn’t want it to sound "pretty." He wanted it to sound like it was coming from a dark alleyway.
The piano is also tuned in a very specific way. It’s bright and percussive. In the 2020s, we call this "earnip." It’s the kind of sound that cuts through background noise. Even if you're in a crowded bar, you hear that opening piano hit and you know exactly what’s coming.
Interestingly, Zevon himself grew to have a complicated relationship with the song. It was his only real "hit." For a guy who wrote deeply moving, complex ballads like "Hasten Down the Wind" or "Desperados Under the Eclipes," being known as the "Ah-hoo" guy was a bit of a double-edged sword.
But he never stopped playing it.
Why We Still Care Decades Later
So, why does a song from 1978 about a monster in London still get played at every Halloween party? Why did Kid Rock decide to sample the riff for "All Summer Long" (much to the chagrin of music purists everywhere)?
It’s because the song is a Rorschach test.
To a kid, it’s a fun song about a werewolf. To a musician, it’s a clinic in how to record a drum and bass pocket. To a literary nerd, it’s a brilliant piece of satire aimed at the shallow, "perfect hair" culture of the 70s.
🔗 Read more: Emily Piggford Movies and TV Shows: Why You Recognize That Face
It’s also incredibly fun to sing.
Zevon’s delivery is key. He’s not singing like a werewolf; he’s singing like a guy watching a werewolf from a safe distance, mildly amused by the carnage. His voice has that signature Zevon growl—a mix of classical training (he studied with Igor Stravinsky briefly as a kid) and years of hard living.
The Cultural Impact
- Lon Chaney Jr. gets a shoutout in the final verse. Zevon was obsessed with the history of Hollywood and the idea of "monsters" as tragic figures.
- The "Perfect Hair" line. This became a shorthand for a certain type of narcissistic masculinity.
- The Kid Rock Connection. While "All Summer Long" uses the riff (and the Sweet Home Alabama riff), it never quite captured the ironic detachment that made Zevon’s original work.
There’s a certain irony in the fact that Zevon, a man who dealt with his own "monsters" for much of his life, is remembered most for a song about a literal one. He was a guy who survived alcoholism, industry blacklisting, and a famously prickly personality, only to face his terminal lung cancer diagnosis in 2002 with a level of grace and humor that shocked everyone.
He told David Letterman his advice for life was simply: "Enjoy every sandwich."
How to Truly Appreciate the Song Today
If you really want to understand the genius of Warren Zevon, don't just listen to the radio edit. Go find a live version. Zevon was a ferocious performer. On stage, he would often extend the song, adding improvised lyrics about whatever city he was in, or barking like a dog until the audience joined in.
The song isn't just a Halloween novelty. It’s a piece of Los Angeles history recorded by a guy who saw the world through a cracked lens.
To get the most out of it:
- Listen to the bass line specifically. John McVie is doing incredible work here. It’s a masterclass in "less is more."
- Read the lyrics like a short story. Forget the music for a second. Read the words. It’s a tight, three-act play about urban decay and fashion.
- Check out the rest of the album, Excitable Boy. If you think Werewolves is weird, wait until you hear the title track about a kid who rubs pot roast on his chest.
Warren Zevon died in 2003, but the Werewolves are still walking through Soho. They’re still looking for Lee Ho Fook’s. And as long as there’s a piano and a guy with a slightly dark sense of humor, that howl isn't going anywhere.
Next Steps for Zevon Fans:
Listen to the live album Stand in the Fire. It captures the raw energy of his 1980 tour and features a version of Werewolves that is significantly more aggressive and punk-rock than the studio version. If you want to understand the man behind the monster, read the biography I'll Sleep When I'm Dead: The Dirty Life and Times of Warren Zevon, written by his ex-wife Crystal Zevon. It’s one of the most honest, brutal, and hilarious music biographies ever published.