← DISGRACELAND
DISGRACELAND
The Eagles Pt. 1: International Drug Smuggling, Endless Cocaine, and California Excess
00:39:50
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- [00:05]
Jake Brennan
Double Elvis.
- [00:08]
Glenn Frey
What is up, good looking people? So apparently attractive people tend to like hot and spicy food. Did you know that?
- [00:14]
Jake Brennan
I did not know that, but now I do.
- [00:16]
Glenn Frey
You probably knew that because you like spicy food and you're good looking, obviously. So you know I'm all about the five Hour energy to power me through my workday. And, and check this out. Five Hour Energy has a new spicy Cinco de Mango flavor. It's sweet like me and spicy like you. Which is to say also that it's hot like you. So you're hot. So your energy shots should be hot too. And these are available only from 5hourenergy.com. Life is too short for bland. Spice it up with 5 hour energy spicy cinco de mango. 5 hour energy spicy cinco Dimango is only available online for a limited time. Head to www.fivehourenergy.com to order yours today. So last time I talked to you guys about Quince, I was boasting about how good I felt in my Mongolian cashmere crewneck sweater that I bought from quince for just $50.90. Yeah, cashmere sweater for under 60 bucks.
- [01:16]
Jake Brennan
Can you believe that?
- [01:17]
Glenn Frey
And now I'm here to tell you about the amazing travel products from Quince. My wife just had a birthday, we.
- [01:24]
Jake Brennan
Have a trip planned for next month.
- [01:25]
Glenn Frey
So I pre ordered for her this really gorgeous weekender bag that she's going to love. Don't worry, she doesn't listen to the.
- [01:33]
Jake Brennan
Podcast so she's not going to find out. But you deserve to know about this bag.
- [01:37]
Glenn Frey
It's Italian leather, comes in three great colors, black, taupe, golden, tan. And it cost me $229.90 and looks like it costs thousands more, which is the deal with Quint's products. They're all super high quality and look like a million bucks, which I love. But they also don't cost me an arm and a leg and I also love that too. So all Quint Items are priced 50 to 80% less than similar brands. That's a major discount. And Quint partners directly with top factories. And Quint cuts out the cost of the middleman and passes the savings on to us. You guys gotta check out their website. Quince.com Amazing stuff there. All kinds of stuff. Great clothes, great products all around. For your next trip, treat yourself to the luxe upgrades you deserve from quintessential. Go to quince.com disgraceland for 365 day returns plus free shipping on your order. That's Q U I n c e.com Disgraceland to get free shipping and 365 day returns.
- [02:36]
Jake Brennan
Quince.com Disgraceland Disgraceland is a production of Double Elvis Just a quick note to my beloved music nerd listeners out there. I'm quite aware of the fact that the name of the Eagles isn't the Eagles and that it is officially just Eagles. No the but you know what? I can't do it. I can't go an entire episode referring to the band I and everyone else, Jeff Lebowski included, have has forever referred to as the Eagles. It just sounds too weird to just constantly refer to them as Eagles. So even though it's wrong because it just feels right for me. Don Henley, Glenn Frey and company are forever the Eagles.
- [03:18]
Glenn Frey
Mellotron.
- [03:30]
Jake Brennan
The stories about the Eagles are insane. Upon their ascent, the band narrowly avoided arrest from smuggling drugs. One member on the eve of the band's breakup skirted potentially devastating legal ramifications from the discovery of an overdosed underage sex worker in his home. During their early days, the Eagles dosed out on peyote and reimagined and reconfigured a new FM sound for the ages that would result in unimaginable success in excess private planes, games of chicken on private planes, and one member surviving a private plane crash. The Eagles as a group very narrowly survived themselves. Decades after the 70s superstardom, the band's status as one of the best selling artists of all time remains untouchable with 200 million global record sales. And the Eagles are untouchable because the Eagles made great music. Unlike that music I played for you at the top of the show. That wasn't great music. That was a preset loop from my melotron called chuckwagon chow down mk2. I played you that loop because I can't afford the rights to oh Girl by the Chi Lights. And why would I play you that specific slice of right on time cheese? Could I afford it? Because that was the number one song in America on June 1, 1972. And that was the day the Eagles released their self titled debut album. An album that would begin the band's ascent to iconic status and attempt to restore America's innocence with peaceful, easy feelings. On this part one of a special two part episode. International drug smuggling, a dead sex worker, a plane crash, and innocence lost. At what cost? Courtesy of the the Eagles I'm Jake Brennan and this is Disgrace. The dead don't laugh. They don't cry either. They don't dance, they don't smile. They don't succeed, fail, fuck or fight they don't do much of anything. They're dead, gone, over. In 1980, the Eagles were dead. But they were far from gone. They were everywhere. Despite the fact that by the beginning of the decade, the individual members of one of the biggest selling bands of the 1970s, Don Henley, Glenn Frey, Don Felder, Joe Walsh and Timothy B. Schmid, had disbanded. But you wouldn't know it from listening to FM radio in the early 80s. And that's because in 1980, as fortunate an event as any Eagle could have imagined happened. The classic rock radio format was invented. It made ubiquitous on FM radio dials around the country. For this format, radio station execs needed reliable programming, that is music that post dated rock and roll's early oldies era of Elvis Presley and Little Richard and predated rock's current new wave video era of Talking Heads and Devo. So classic rock radio programmers turned to the peaceful, easy sounds of Southern California's Eagles. Born in the 70s and dead in the water in the 80s. The band's proven hits, Hotel California, One of these Nights already Gone Lion Eyes and Take it to the Limit, among what seemed to be an endless parade of other chart toppers from the Eagles decade, defining studio albums proved easy fodder for unimaginative radio programmers and thus filled the airwaves after nearly a solid decade of stadium sellouts, number one singles, top selling albums and enough cocaine, sex and tension to make even the hardest wildest single 70s rock n rollers Cry uncle. The Eagles. Glenn Frey called his co leader in the band, Don Henley, on the telephone. It was over. Glenn was out. No mas. Henley didn't argue. What could he say? Things would get better, easier. They wouldn't. Don Henley was too practical to not know that writing hit songs was tough sledding under the best of circumstances. Never mind under constant burnout from the grind of the road, under the distrustful eyes of creatively jealous band members, romantically jealous lovers, or under the gaze of over demanding insensitive record label suits whose entire financial quarters could turn on the release of a long awaited Eagles album. All of whom were a gack to the gills, lovers and band members included, unable to see their way through any challenge with clarity hazed by paranoia and exhaustion, two constants that were as omnipresent as the band's irrepressible hooks and inimitable harmonies. No, Glenn was right. Henley knew it. The Eagles were dead. But even so, classic rock radio kept the band's still heart beating strong. Unlike the heart of the 16 year old sex worker In Don Henley's bathroom. At the moment, her heart was another story. The paramedics moved with the quickness. The young girl had stopped breathing. Voices from the end of the corridor confirmed it. Fear pressed itself hard against the the Texas singer's chest. His Mulholland drive home was quickly transformed from idyllic west coast party scene to crime scene. And there was nothing he or his high powered representatives could do about it. If the girl was dead, there would likely be no coming back from it. What happened next isn't entirely clear. The only person who's ever told the story is Don Henley himself. And he hasn't said much. Henley claimed he he called the paramedics out of a sense of decency. Henley claimed he didn't know she was 16. Henley claimed he didn't have sex with her. Henley admitted he'd solicited the girl from a trusted madam as a gift for his hard working road crew. A going away gift to make tonight's going away party go off with a Little extra oomph. November 21, 1980. The Eagles were over. Don Henley's road crew were out on their asses. Unlike the 33 year old rock star who could fall back on what would be a tsunami of royalties from his band's hits, his roadies faced a much less certain financial future. A party with some girls and some blow was the least Mr. Henley could do for them. Or so went the thinking. The girl was naked. And there was another girl too, even younger, 15. And the drugs were everywhere. Coke, lewds, grass. Relax. The night man was calm, unlike the rock star. But then again, the night man was always calm. A near dead girl on a little dope wasn't going to rattle him. He'd seen worse. But Don Henley was tense. How could he not be? Henley claimed he took the heat in the moment when the girl turned up naked, convulsing and near dead. He didn't panic. The fear pulsed. Though his head was heavy, his sight dim, he managed to hold tight and grasp control of the moment. Henley claimed he didn't dart about his house to flush the drugs. He focused on helping the girl. He called the paramedics and the paramedics called the cops and the cops called the department sexually exploited child unit. And Don Henley, co founder of the Eagles, called his lawyer for he was under arrest. The fear was now enough to make his chest explode. The fear was always there in some way or another, going as far back as his days in Linden, Texas as a boy. Sure, his upbringing had him high on the sounds of T Bone Walker and Hank Williams. But down in the dust was that lingering fear of where his future would take him. Or more specifically, if his future would take him anywhere at all. His father owned an auto parts store and he saved pennies, then nickels and then dimes and eventually enough quarters at when coupled with whatever savings teenage Don Henley himself scrapped together from gigging around northern Texas. In his high school bands amounted to enough to cover the tuition at North Texas State University. But college didn't hold. His English lit classes interested him. However, college presented a new kind of fear. Fear of becoming something you weren't. A jag, just another guy. Don Henley was not just another guy. There was greatness in him. He knew this. Henley was more than just college. Or at least he sensed that the world held more for him than the boredom and straightness of academia. He buttonholed another Texan, Kenny Rogers. Rogers had success with his group, the First Edition. Kenny Rogers recognized something in Don Henley. Call it game recognizing game, call it just dropping in to see what condition the kid's condition was in. Call it whatever you want. For Don Henley, his group Shiloh was the play they called. Kenny Rogers as producer was the coach. And Los Angeles, California was the field of opportunity. Go west, go west, go west, young man and see what the sun has set in motion. Manifest Destiny Los Angeles. Sunny Southern California. It was a rock and roll gold rush in 1960. The Beach Boys had established the California sound in the mid-60s, but it had evolved from sunny and surfy to electric folk psychedelia. In each evolution struck another motherload of pop hits. Now nestled in the dust and blacktop ribbons of Laurel Canyon, just north of Hollywood, was one of the most fertile artistic communities in the world. Cross pollinating musical ideas and band members. The Birds, the Mamas and the Papas, Buffalo Springfield. All culminating in the Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young supergroup of the late 60s with their honeyed vocal harmonies, thick acoustic bliss and massive success. On any given night in the city, music legends in the Laurel Canyon scenesters would crowd Doug Weston's Troubadour on Santa Monica, where Buffalo Springfield had debuted in 66 and where in 1970 Elton John and made his thunderous US debut, the Troubadour in 1970 was something else. It was where careers were made, where low key folksters made it with bronze dime spot California girls on the make, and where rock and roll dreams came to life in Hollywood Technicolor. It was where greatness actually seemed possible to a starry eyed musician from a one stop town in Nowhere, Texas. It was where Don Henley met JD and where he met Jackson and most importantly, where he met Glenn.
- [14:35]
Don Henley
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- [15:08]
Sarah Kavanaugh
She was a decorated veteran, a marine who saved her comrades. A hero.
- [15:13]
Jackson Browne
She was stoic, modest, tough. Someone who inspired people. Everyone thought they knew her until they didn't. I remember sitting on her couch and asking her, is this real? Is this real? Is this real? Is this real?
- [15:31]
Jake Brennan
I just couldn't wrap my head around what kind of person would do that to another person that was getting treatment, that was, you know, dying.
- [15:41]
Sarah Kavanaugh
This is a story all about trust and about a woman named Sarah Kavanaugh.
- [15:48]
Glenn Frey
I've always been told I'm a really good listener, right? And I maximized that while I was lying.
- [15:55]
Sarah Kavanaugh
Listen to Deep Cover the Truth About Sarah. Wherever you get your podcasts.
- [16:03]
Jake Brennan
This is.
- [16:04]
David Geffen
A mini meditation guided by Bombus. Repeat after me. I'm comfy. Comfy. I'm cozy. Cozy. I have zero blisters on my toes. Blisters. And that's because I wear Bombus the softest Socks, underwear and T shirts that give back. One purchased equals one donated. Now go to bombas.com cozy and use code cozy for 20% off your first purchase. That's B O M b-a-.com cozy and use code Cozy at checkout.
- [16:39]
Jake Brennan
Glenn Frey was in Mexico. 20 years old, confidence radiating off of his young, toned, tan body. Quickly he loaded the contraband tightly packed bags of cheap Acapulco gold marijuana onto his pickup. American made, born in Detroit, just like him. The pickup was solid, reliable, capable of making the 100 plus mile trip from south of the border to Los Angeles without breaking down and getting flagged by the customs man. The desert highway was dark. The wind cool blowing through Glenn's long dark hair. Light in the distance, shimmering, beckoning. The kalita in the ashtray burned sweetly. Innocence shadowed his big round almond colored eyes. He could feel it in his chest. Excitement. Anticipation. Los Angeles, California. There was nowhere in the world like it. At least not in Glenn Frey's young world, which at the time Consisted of just Detroit, Michigan, San Francisco and some drug dealer's den on the border. LA came as advertised, girls that were somehow more beautiful than the weather. Music on every stage. Opportunity, it seemed, on every corner. Hell, David Crosby was right there. Man on Sunset, just walking down the street in his flat brimmed hat like everyone else. Detroit, Glenn's hometown, was a different trip entirely. Music didn't surround you in the Motor City so much as it punched you in the face. It was ubiquitous, but the barrier for entry was steeper. Barry Gordy wasn't banging down Glenn Frey's door anytime soon to sign him to Detroit's Motown Records. But another Michigan native was more welcoming. Bob Seeger. Beginning in the early 1960s, as incredible as it might sound today, it was hard to find another musician anywhere, never mind in Detroit, who better embodied the rock and roll spirit than Bob Seger. He and his bands, first the Bob Seger System, then Bob Seger and the Last Herd, and later the Silver Bull Bullet Band, were live forces of nature putting in work night after night on the Midwest circuit. With a mix of traditional blue eyed r B& mid-60s frat rock energy in a way that would help solidify what true classic rock would become. Bob Seeger brought it night after night. And as he experienced local rocker with a steady lineup of shows and a record contract to boot, he brought a young, ambitious, irrepressible local kid named Glenn Fry under his wing. In a half assed sort of mentor, protege kind of way. Glenn made the most of his opportunity. Music was his ticket out from where or what, he didn't really know. Just out. Out of teen gangland, out of Detroit, out of going nowhere fast. A chance at becoming somebody, something. Something more, something great. He made the most of his first opportunity when asked to sit in on backing vocals for Bob Seeger. Second major label single, 1969's Rambling Gambling man and Glenn Frey came in hot on the first chorus. You can hear the ambition in his voice as he shadows Seger. It's a pronouncement of someone new hitting the scene. Someone not like some other guys. Someone not content with the shadows of the stage. Someone destined for greatness. Rambling Gambling man hit number 62 on the pop charts and gave young Glenn Frey a taste. Music was a way it was possible. He loaded up his pickup and split for the coast. No job, no band, no plan, just confidence in himself. He'd figure it out. That's what the Acapulco Gold was all about. He'd break it off in smaller Bags for the heads down on Sunset and walk away with some walking around money to get him started. Enough to drink down at the famous Troubadour on a weeknight and see what kind of trouble he could get himself into. Glenn quickly connected with the Troubadour's local Lothario, J.D. souther, an Amarillo stickman who knew his way around not only the local scene, but around a country chord progression as well. JD met Glenn through one of Glen's exes. Quickly the two men developed a bond around music. Glenn brought a street smart R b toughness to JD's natural country roots. They took up under the name Long Branch Pennywhistle as a duo and settled into a cheap apartment in Echo park to woodshed some original songs. In the one room apartment downstairs, another local songwriter was putting on a masterclass in songwriting. Every morning Glen could hear him through the floorboards up at 9am, straight to a pit stop at the stove where the songwriter would set a teakettle alight. Then he'd work out the first verse, the chord progression on the keyboard with the vocal melody, over and over again. The kettle would blow off steam, the songwriter would break, pour his cup, let it steep, back to the bench. Time for the chorus, the chord progression on keyboard with the vocal melody on top, just like the first verse, over and over again. Then he'd retrieve his T, settle sip on to the second verse, same as the first, over and over. He'd break for a sip here and there to grease his vocal cords and then straight back at it from the second verse to the second chorus to the middle, middle, late the final verse in the outro. When all was said and done, it would be lunch and the song would be not only worked out, but fused by muscle memory. Glenn Frey knew the dude downstairs was onto something. And the dude downstairs was Jackson Brown, blessed with the good looks of everybody's favorite little brother. Jackson Brown was at an early age already an experience, not to mention naturally gifted singer songwriter. He'd grown up in la, but by the time he'd crossed paths with Glenn Frey, he'd already been around the block, having completed a songwriter's pilgrimage to New York City's Greenwich Village where he'd witnessed firsthand the culture defining rattle of the Velvet Underground, wound up backing their singer Nico on stage and personally fallen in and out of bed with her in the process. Nico's iconic, world weary signature ballad these days, Jackson Brown Rose heard that when he was 16. After New York, Jackson Brown wound up back in Los Angeles at the turn of the decade with a head full of inspiration and just enough experience to turn that inspiration into a coveted record contract. None of it surprised the blue collar Glenn Frey, who could hear Jackson Brown's discipline emanate through his kitchen floor every morning. This was how the greats did it, through hard work. It wasn't just fast cars, grass and bronzed babes. It was putting in work. It was hustle. And in Los Angeles in 1970, when it came to the folk scene anyway, no one had more hustle or was more of a hustler than David Geffen. We'll be right back after this Word, word, word.
- [23:21]
JD Souther
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- [24:10]
Linda Ronstadt
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- [25:11]
Jackson Browne
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- [26:12]
Jake Brennan
David Geffen believed in Jackson Brown before anyone else believed in Jackson Brown Because David Geffen believed in himself, or perhaps because David Geffen had what traders of any commodity covet mostinside knowledge. How he got that knowledge was anyone's guess. When he was coming up in the mailroom at the William Morris Agency, he simply took it, steaming open letters to agency executives to gain inside information on what opportunities were available for him to pounce upon. But when it came to Jackson Brown, David Geffen didn't need anyone to tell him about Jackson's talent. Not his clients Crosby, Stills or Nash or Laura Nero. Geffen just knew it was obvious Jackson Browne was going to write hits and become a star. He wasn't like the other artists in Geffen's circle. Jackson had it all talent, drive and good looks. How no one else in the music industry besides David Geffen saw all that only reinforced Geffen's belief in himself. That he alone had a special understanding of talent and thus successful. Ahmed Ertekin, founder of Atlantic Records, believed in David Geffen, even if he didn't believe in Jackson Brown. When Geffen went to Ertigan for a record contract for Jackson Brown, who Geffen was now managing, Ertegan, told Geffen that if he believed so strongly in his artist that he then should start his own record label and Atlantic would distribute the records David Geffen took to the challenge. And with his managing partner Elliot Roberts, Geffen founded the artist friendly Asylum Records. And that's artist friendly as in the artists or the inmates were running the asylum. It was the spirit of the early seventies when musical artistry trumped everything in the folk inspired pop scene. In 1971, in the record business, to be for the artist was to be at the vanguard of hypnis. It was who David Geffen was. It was why Asylum was perfect for a song focused artist like Jackson Browne and Jackson Brown had friends, talented friends, friends who hung out nightly at the Troubadour. Don Henley made the scene. Immediately upon arriving in la. The Troubadour's doors swung open and so too did the doors to his own slice of heaven on earth. On his first night inside the club, he saw Neil Young and Linda Ronstadt just hanging out. And they were both already firmly established as stars. Don Henley couldn't believe his newfound lot in life. His band Shiloh booked a gig, but it was clear quickly that Shiloh was going nowhere. Henley fell in with Glenn Frey, who had already firmly made the scene. Glenn and Henley sat in with J.D. souther in the front room at the Troubadour and traded songs with Jackson Brown, Don Henley, Texas boy that he was, vibed on the laid back country stylings that came naturally to all involved, even for Glenn Frey, the boy from Detroit. Glenn's hard R B influence tempered the dusty honky tonk swinging from Henley's Styx and snare together amalgamated with JD Souther's direct country take on Jackson Brown's breezy Southern California songwriting. Something special started to happen and Linda Ronstadt took note. Recruiting Glenn Frey and Don Henley to become part of her live band, she recruited J.D. southit for Something Else. Her bedroom in Anaheim. In 1971, Glenn and Henley backed Linda Ronstadt alongside two other musicians, Poco's Randy Meisner on bass and the Flying Burrito Brothers Bernie Leddon on guitar and banjo. The four backing musicians felt it, and Linda Ronstadt did too. Especially when they sang in harmony. Voices rushing up from far away, snapping you to attention enough to wake you up no matter the time of day. Dantana's 1972 Santa Monica Boulevard if the troubadour was the place to be, Dantana's was the place next to the place to be. An old school red and white checkered Italian restaurant that served as a pre and post hang for Troubadour regulars. Not to mention an old school Hollywood power player clubhouse where attendees got up to all manner of no good on a Regular basis. David Geffen sat in a corner booth surrounded by Southern California folk rock royalty Jackson Brown, Joni Mitchell among them. A pregame of sorts before a party later that night at the Laurel Canyon home of Geffen's business partner, Elliot Roberts, where the guest list would include Hollywood's young elite, Jack Nicholson, Peter Fonda and Dennis Hopper, among more rock royals, Michelle Phillips, Cass Elliott, Neil Young and John Sebastian. But back at Dan Tanna's, gathered for their pre party feast, David Geffen stabbed at his broiled swordfish with his steely knife and called for more wine. Jackson Brown was unusually uncool in Geffen's ear, constantly about putting his friend Glenn Frey under contract with him in Asylum Records. Geffen was aware of Frey, whose reputation as a singer, songwriter and potential frontman was beginning to make the rounds due to his stint on the road and then in the studio with Linda Ronstadt. Fry's reputation was growing quickly, so much so that Columbia Records Clive Davis was circling and ready to sign him right out from under Geffen. But innocent as Glenn Frey was, he understood what most artists often fail to understand, and what David Geffen sure as shit, never failed to understand. And that is that artists, at least the ones who can create and perform at a high level, are the rarest of commodities. Like professional athletes. There are only so many people in the world who can do what they do. And for record label owners and music managers, those artists, those rare few, are all they got. Their business is entirely dependent on them, on the artist. The rub is that artists are naturally insecure. They operate from a position of fear and too often lose sight of the power they actually possess when it comes to business and therefore allow themselves to be taken by the businessmen. Glenn Frey was not naturally insecure, quite the opposite. He was brimming with confidence even at a young age. Jackson Brown saw it. Everyone on the scene saw it. And it would be David Geffen's great loss if he too didn't see it soon. But David Geffen wasn't used to losing, and he was clearly no dummy. He got the message. And despite Clive Davis aggressive stab at Glenn Frey, Geffen was able to preempt Columbia Records. David Geffen went on a shopping spree, long in the process of signing Linda Ronstadt away from her existing record contract. He moved quickly to secure the rights to her backing band, and that meant purchasing the existing small time record contract for Long Branch Pennywhistle, Glenn Frey's band with JD Souther, as well as the small time record contract for Shiloh Don Henley's band. David Geffen's Asylum Records now not only owned Jackson Browne, but Linda Ronstadt, Glenn Frey and Don Henley, as well as other solo artists Tom Waits, Joni Mitchell and of course, JD Souther. Glenn Frey corralled the players behind that magic on stage in Anaheim with Linda Don Henley on drums, Bernie Leddon on banjo and guitar and Randy Meisner on bass. Together with JD Souther and Jackson Browne, informally contributing bits of songs, they set about to become, like so many before them, America's next great rock and roll band. To become just that. There was only one name possible for the band. Only one name that contained the requisite combination of inspiration and aspiration. Only one name capable of representing the greatness Glenn Frey and Don Henley sought. Only one name. American Enough the eagles the late 1960s America torn apart. Vietnam fast approaching. 50,000 soldiers dead. Martin Luther King Jr. Dead. Robert F. Kennedy, dead. Riots in the streets. Detroit, D.C. watts, the early 70s. More dead in Vietnam crossing the 50,000 milestone like nothing. Cambodia, Agent Orange, Watergate and then finally arrest. A crack in the chaos. California sunshine sneaking through something approaching hope. A new decade, a chance at no more war, no more death. A fucking break. A peaceful easy feeling. By the time the Eagles self titled debut record was released on Geffen Records in 1972, America couldn't have been more ready for the breezy, countrified Southern California sound of the Eagles. A decade of discord. And this. This sounded like harmony. Glenn Frey, Don Henley, Bernie Letton and Randy Meisner's self titled debut album was a smash. Just like David Geffen, Jackson Brown and anyone with ears who heard and saw the Eagles come together knew would be the case. Everyone except their chosen producer, the renowned Glen Johns. He couldn't hear it, so the record almost never happened. To Johns, the Eagles were confused. One part country, one part rock, one part acoustic, one part electric. Sonically, Glenn Johns believed the band didn't know who they were or what they wanted to be until they opened their mouths and started singing together and those beautiful vocal harmonies came out. They were somehow gritty and angelic at the same time. Dusty like the desert floor, sublime like the desert sky. The Eagles were their own trip. After recording their debut, they shipped off to the desert to capture photographs for the COVID of their album. Before making the 140 mile trip to Joshua Tree, they loaded up on tequila shots at the Troubadour, closed the joint, then piled into a late model American sedan with room for the band plus their photographers, a cooler of beer, more tequila and a pouch of peyote squirreled away in the glove compartment and sped off to capture sunrise in the desert. Before it passed, the peyote kicked in hard on his back, Glenn Fry stared at the desert sky. The blinding sun turned the blue sky to silver glass, a mirror on the ceiling cutting through an actual eagle. Glenn would never forget this. It was so on the nose. But one of those things that actually happened. He would later tell the story over and over again, but now, in the moment, it freaked him the out. It's all over. This was the moment, one of those points in your life where you can find, feel the punctuation happen, where you know life will never be the same, or you feel your past life compartmentalized into a mental archive right there in real time. You're on the precipice of something. There is only one direction forward, away from the past, but you can feel yourself being pulled back as you run for the door. That passage back is the wrong way. Or so you think. Innocence can never be recaimed. What remains is only experience, your shot at something big, at something grand, at something great. Life in the fast lane wouldn't truly present itself for a few years to come, but it began here in the desert and then on the road and on the airwaves. Peaceful, easy feeling, witchy woman in the brilliant leadoff track Take It Easy, co written with Jackson Brown, the songs Hank Williams Williams inspired lyrical simplicity, magical harmonies and perfect mix of banjo and driving rock rhythm resulted in a masterful work of pop Americana magic. Take It Easy does what the greatest pop songs throughout history have done, gives the masses what they don't even know they want. As with many turning points in history, music provided an alternative a relief from the status quo and relief from the turbulent 60s. Just like the Beatles I want to hold you'd hand did in the aftermath of the Kennedy assassination and just like Nirvana did with Smells Like Teen Spirit in the wake of the overtly commercial 1980s, the Eagles had arrived with three bonafide smash hits off their debut album, and nothing for any member of the band would ever be the same. I'm Jake Brennan and this is Episode of Disgraceland Is to be Continued. Foreign Disgraceland was created by yours truly.
- [39:05]
Glenn Frey
And is produced in partnership with Double Elvis.
- [39:08]
Jake Brennan
Credits for this episode can be found on the show notes page@gracelandpod.com subscribe follow.
- [39:14]
Glenn Frey
Like Rate and review the Disgraceland Podcast.
- [39:16]
Jake Brennan
Wherever you get your podcast, because the.
- [39:18]
Glenn Frey
Disgraceland Podcast is now available everywhere.
- [39:22]
Jake Brennan
Yes, if you love Disgraceland, tell someone, tell everyone.
- [39:25]
Glenn Frey
Shout us out on Social Spread the.
- [39:27]
Jake Brennan
Word and follow us to find out how you can cop some free merch for spreading that word.
- [39:31]
Glenn Frey
Follow us on Instagram, TikTok, Twitter and.
- [39:33]
Jake Brennan
Facebook Disgracelandpod and on YouTube@YouTube.com Disgracelandpod Rock a roll. He's a bad, bad man.
- [39:47]
JD Souther
You know, there are a lot of passions. Some days it's sports, Other days it's cooking or music, or just diving into a great documentary. The thing is, whatever you're into, it's on Prime. Amazon prime isn't just about fast delivery though. Getting stuff the same day is pretty great. But it turns out it's so much more prime, video, Amazon, music, the whole range of services. It's like a hub for all kinds of curiosity. Prime helps people stay connected to what matters and and keeps the journey of exploration going. Whether it's watching something inspiring, listening to a new artist, or getting gear delivered fast to chase a new hobby, prime makes it easier to dive in. So yeah, whatever you're into, it's on Prime. From streaming to shopping, it's on Prime. Visit Amazon.comprime to get more out of whatever sparks interest. Amazon.comprime I'm not exactly a tech genius.
- [40:45]
Bob Seger
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