Standing On A Corner In…Go F Yourself

d8def57a-880a-480a-aef5-6ee65a522193Everyone was waiting for that third shoe to drop and there it went. First Lemmy, then Bowie, then … GLENN FREY? In the immortal (scripted) words of John Travolta, “What a gyp!” How did I hate the music of Glenn Frey? Gosh, let me count the ways: “Peaceful Easy Feeling,” “Take It Easy,” “Tequila Sunrise,” “Already Gone,” “Heartache Tonight,” and the truly despicable “Lyin’ Eyes,” all stomach churning monuments of utter suckitude.

And let’s not forget Glenny’s auspicious solo career outside The Eagles. Just have a look at these winners: “The One You Love,” “Smuggler’s Blues,” “Sexy Girl,” “Partytown,” and the two-headed saxophone monstrosities “The Heat Is On” and “You Belong to the City.” HRRPP! There goes breakfast, lunch AND dinner, all over my Miami Vice jacket.

OK, “New Kid in Town” was a nice tune, but it ain’t enough to save your eternal soul, bub. Satan definitely has a special place reserved in the seventh or eighth circle of hell for the asshole who wrote “Lyin’ Eyes.” You’re still the same old girl you used to be. Goddamn, Glenn! Hate women much? Both “Lyin’ Eyes” and “Hotel California” (mostly penned by Dons Henley and Felder) are over six minutes long. Which would YOU rather listen to during a root canal? If the answer is neither, you win the prize!

In the 1970s, Glenn Frey (and the rest of the Eagles, let’s be fair) represented the smug, smarmy, stuck up, self-important face of the coke-fuelled Me Decade. They hijacked the California countrified LSD innocence of the Byrds and the Burritos and rode that sucker right to the bank. These cocksuckers actually believed they WERE desperados, the spiritual descendants of Wild Bill Hickok and Butch Cassidy. They behaved like fame was their birthright. The millions of Eagles records sold only reinforced this attitude.

One can trace nearly identical arcs between the Eagles’ ascent to chart success and the birth of the American and British underground scenes. The rise of The Sex Pistols, The Clash, Richard Hell, Patti Smith, etc. was a direct reaction to the vapid white bread blandness of The Eagles and their contemporaries. “Holidays In The Sun,” “Safe European Home,” “Blank Generation,” and “Ask The Angels” still ring true after all these years, leaving “The Long Run,” “One Of These Nights,” “Best Of My Love,” and (ewww) “Witchy Woman” in the dust like the turds they are.

Sorry, fellas.

In the 1980s, Glenn Frey got pumped up and cut his hair, transforming into the perfect yuppie Rambo Reagan-era wet dream conservative douchebag Übermensch. “Yeah, I used to be a skinny naive hippie before I had millions in the bank and discovered steroids. Revolution? What revolution?”

Here’s Glenn on his 1989 single “Livin’ Right”: “My anthem to fitness. Jack (Tempchin, co-writer) and I both started working out, eating right and generally tightening up our acts. Having tried nearly every other way to feel good, we’ve wound up back in gym class. Who’d of thunk it!”

What a dick!

After the Eagles’ breakup in 1980, Don Henley was quoted as saying they would get back together “When hell freezes over.” In 1994, the band reformed for an extremely successful tour and CD entitled … wait for it … Hell Freezes Over! But it was all about the music, maaan, not the money. And you know that’s no lie because they wrote all those awesome new songs like … um, that one and … yeah, that other one. Good thing Glenn had more classics up his sleeve, huh?

I know it’s rude to speak ill of the dead, but seriously, fuck that guy.


*The views in this article are not necessarily that of or their underwriters…but, damn that funny.

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