Those days are gone forever
You should just let ‘em go
Mojo Nixon was right.
I have always hated The Eagles.
I get it. I’m kind of two minds about it. While I certainly am too old to go to concerts anymore, it’s not necessarily a bad thing.
“...and I’m getting older, too.”
I do not like his politics, especially that song “This the end of the innocence,” nothing more than a diatribe against Reagan, but these points are valid.
Sorry Don, but that polite and respectful America is long gone.
Would it be too late to tell Don to kiss may a$$? Maybe. Maybe not.
The wife and I have been to quite a few concerts by old rockers in the last four years. We’re always amused at the numerous concertgoers who seem to be more interested in their smartphones than watching the performers. And people standing all the time are unbelievably irritating. Sit in your damn seat says Driftless the old curmudgeon.
I guess this is the end of his innocence?
“Don Henley’s gonna tell me how to vote. I don’t @#!@ing think so, ok? I got two words for Don Henley, Joe @#!@iing Walsh, ok!? Thanks for calling, Don! How long’s your pony tail now? Ok!” - Dennis Leary
He appeared to be completely oblivious to the fact that he and the eternal copyright system that made him rich was wholly to blame.
Henley has always been a bit of a grumpypants. Dude, you’re getting paid how much to stand up there and croon for 90 minutes?
Henley’s always been a PITA, but he’s right.
When you pay $500 for a ticket, you can do anything you want to.
Don was the John Lennon or grouchy know it all in The Eagles. The other lead singer named (?) was the easy going approachable Paul McCartney character. The yin always needs the yang to achieve balance.
I loathe that lib POS but I’ll give him his due for one song.
I quote it often
“The Garden Of Allah”
It was pretty big year for fashion
A lousy year for rock and roll
The people gave their blessing to crimes of passion
It was a dark, dark night of the collective soul
And I was somewhere out on riverside by the el royale hotel
When a stranger appeared in a cloud of smoke
I thought I knew him all too well
He said now that I have your attention
I got something I wanna say
You may not wanna hear it, I’m gonna tell it to you anyway
You know I’ve always like you boy
Cause you were not afraid of me
Things are gonna get mighty rough here in gomorrah-by-the-sea
Ya said it’s just like home
It’s so damn hot I can’t stand it
My fine seersucker suit is all soaking wet
And the hills are burning
And the wind is raging
And the clock strikes midnight in the garden of Allah
In the garden of Allah
Nice car
Ah, I love those bavarians
So meticulous
Y’know I remember when things were a lot more fun around here
When good was good and evil was evil
Before things got so fuzzy
I was once a golden boy like you
And I was summoned to the halls of power in the heavenly courts
And I dined with the deities who looked upon me with favor,
For my talents, my creativity
And we sat beneath the palms
In the warm afternoons and drank the wine
With fitzgerald and huxley
And they pawned the biting phrase from the tongues hot with blood
And drained their pins of bitter ink
Vainly reaching for the bottle full of empty edens
Branded especially for the ones who had come with great expectations
To the perfumed halls of Allah, for their time in the sun
And we were stokin’ the fires and oilin’ up the machinery
Until the gods found out we had ideas of our own
And war was coming and the earth was shaking
And there was no more ruin in the garden of Allah
Today I made an appearance downtown
I am an expert witness because I say I am
And I said gentlemen, and I use that world loosely
I will testify for you, I’m a gun for hire,I’m a saint, I’m a liar
Because there are no facts, there is no truth
Just data to be manipulated
I can get you any result you like
What’s it worth to you?
Because there is no wrong, there is no right
And I sleep very well at night
No shame, no solution, no remorse, no retribution
Just people selling t-shirts
Just opportunity to participate in the pathetic little circus
And winning, winning, winning
It was pretty big year for predators
The marketplace was on a roll
And the land of opportunity
Spawned a whole new breed of men without souls
This year notoriety got all confused with fame
And the devil is downhearted babe, cause
There’s nothing left for him to claim
He said it’s just like home
It’s so low-down I can’t stand it
I guess my work around here has all been done
And the fruit is rotten, the serpent’s eyes shine
As he wraps around the vine,
In the garden of Allah
In the garden of Allah
In the garden of Allah
I can’t totally disagree with him. I like to attend house concerts or other small venues, and nothing ticks me off more than for someone to get up and wander around or talk/laugh loudly, or constantly text, while the musician(s) are performing. That’s rude not only to the musician(s) but to the audience. While I would prefer to watch an Eagles concert, sitting in my seat without distractions, I think that in larger venues, this offensive behavior is more to be expected. (Disclosure: I like the Eagles’ music, I always have — but sometimes it’s tough to ignore performers’ politics and concentrate on the music.)