R.I.P.: The Eagles (Glenn Frey)

I don’t have real strong feelings about the band one way or the other. I remember I bought the debut when I was on vacation in Oregon (can’t remember why — maybe I liked the cover) and proclaimed to everybody who would listen it had strong popular potential. When it took off, I felt an early surge of “Yah, maybe I got some instincts.”

I thought the group’s insistence that they be hailed as brilliant and badass and the wave of the future or whatever they wanted showed the worst kind of conceit mixed with lack of self-awareness (how could you be tomorrow if Creedence Clearwater Revival had done everything you accomplished or even implied with 10X the fervor and insight?) But I thought hating them was stupid — like sneering at cheeseburgers.

All that said, they did put a spell on me with “One of These Nights,” the mood-setter of my summer after college. One of the coolest introductions to a hit single — made you wait and anticipate while it twirled with a perfect whisper of anxiety. Vocal itself a bit of a letdown after that. Not as big a letdown as “Lyin’ Eyes,” though. The not-real-strong-feelings began right after that.

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