JAS Labor Day 2010 II

“Isn’t that Bill Stirling?” Leigh asked. A tallish, slim, slightly stooped elegant man with a robust sweep of snow white hair flowing out from underneath his de rigueur pork pie hat limped by, leaning on a thin blue straight-topped hand-carved cane. The slanting evening sun, about to fall behind the ridge over Melton Ranch, sparkled on his aviator framed sunglasses.

Boldly, she stopped him as he walked past our enclave along the center walkway. Yes, indeed, it was Bill, the former mayor of Aspen, and estate agent for our mother Ida while she rented her home, and for us when we sold it. We bantered a bit, and then he said, “Well, these are our guys; I need to get back to my crew before they start.”

Our guys were the pair of Glenn Frey and Joe Walsh, half of the Eagles (or the Eaglets, as some in the local press had dubbed them.) The Eagles, of course, were one of the biggest groups from that climax rock era, the 70’s. Once Frey and Don Henley found their songwriting chops, and especially after adding former James Ganger Walsh to their group, they held sway over the straight-ahead country-folk-rock and roll fusion then going on, their only equals being Fleetwood Mac.

They were to follow 2/3rds of the Dixie Chicks (singer Natalie Maines was missing), featuring the multi-instrumental Erwin sisters Martie Maguire and Emily Robison (violin, viola, mandolin, guitar, dobro, banjo, slide guitar.) These “Court Yard Hounds” have carried on their long history of bluegrass and traditional country music with much the same line-up as the Chicks. When they strayed to their softer, more popular songs, the crowd lit up, but the spark went out of the sky; their original down-home sound does seem more comfortable to them, despite their perfectly made-up eyes and hair.

Joe Walsh would never consider a face make-over, but he does seem to have enhanced his lanky blond locks. There’s a run on Aspen Mountain called “Walsh’s”. While not referring to Joe, it does bear a striking resemblance to his face. All gnarly, with ragged, ungroomed bumps piled in no particular order, the run always seems used, abused, rutted and ornery. Walsh’s makes no accommodation to those seeking a more pleasant, mellow journey down the slope. Those looking for such a ride should seek out “Frey’s” (which might actually be on Snowmass somewhere, I don’t know.)

Glenn Frey got the nostalgia going with “Take it Easy”, and “Peaceful Easy Feeling”, to mellow us into the early Eagles as they marched from country to harder rock. From their middle era, he pulled out my absolute favorite Eagles song, “Lyin’s Eyes”, a six minute long encapsulation of the quintessential California Girl as she strived for success on her terms, grabbing for gold, while desperately trying to hold onto a past she just can’t release. I used to love singing this song back in the mid-70s, when Cheryl and I lived in Venice, CA, and kept a small Hobie Cat sailboat in the Marina. We’d go out (not ever very far) into Santa Monica Bay, sailing along the shore, looking for the turquoise highlight of the Pizza joint that marked our neighborhood (“the Center of the Universe”.) One day, we made the mistake of going out at the start of a weak Santa Ana. The usually reliable on-shore afternoon breezes did not materialize, and we became becalmed. While waiting for either a wind, or a Good Samaritan with a motor on his boat to pull us in, we started singing harmony (my children will be cringing as they contemplate my attempts at that.) This song was number one on my personal hit list at the time, always being either on the radio or on the record player. So we belted it out, and it remains one of our seminal memories together. When Glenn started up on that crisping, cooling high mountain valley evening, where I’ve been coming since before I ever saw Venice, I couldn’t hold back either singing along, or tearing up with the maudlin syrup flowing out of his still in-tune tenor. I momentarily wished Cheryl were there to share, but then remembered, she never really did understand why I like that song so much; I don’t know either, but its tune and harmonies still transport me.

Always professional, polished, and tuned to a mass audience, the Eagles were the epitome of hard-working, talented, driven musicians who plied their trade in the wild and wooly field of Rock, where outrageous behaviour was also part of the act.

Joe Walsh described and satirised that era in “Life’s Been Good” (“My Maserati does 185, I lost my license, now I can’t drive”) which he obligingly played, along with “Life in the Fast Land” and “Heartache Tonight.” The latter, which on 1979’s final Eagles’ album The Long Run seemed like just filler, was now the centerpiece of Walsh’s continuing guitar hero mastery. Like other 60s/70’s survivors who clouded their talent with a perverse, pervasive self destruction (think David Crosby, Keith Richards), the guy can play better now then he could back then. While some other guitar technicians cover their licks with excessive head banging and body thrumming, Joe plays it all out in his face. His mouth is one of those upside-down affairs, incapable of smiling beyond a straight line, but marvelous in its intensity, the edges curving down as he struggles to reach the high notes at the short end of the neck. He followed that riff with “In The City” from the same album, showing that although Henley/Frey may have been the top song-writing duo of that era, and Don Henley the most stellar singer of that group, he was the most serious rocker of them all.

“These guys give a whole new meaning to ‘60s Rock’.” I shouted at my sister after he left us begging for more. She just smiled, understanding that while the pun didn’t QUITE work, it was the heart of the matter, to see folks our age still pounding it out.