When the Eagles decided to go their separate ways in the autumn of 1980, this after a rancorous summer tour of the United States when most of the group barely spoke to each other either on or off stage, they were, by and large, the most successful rock band on the planet.
Formed in Los Angeles as a country-rock quartet in 1971, nine years later drummer/vocalist Don Henley and guitarist Glenn Frey, who as a songwriting duo were responsible for most the Eagles best known songs, were the only original members left – guitar player Bernie Leadon and bassist Randy Meisner having departed the scene at various points through a six-album journey that had seen the music move from country pop to polished mainstream rock.
The pinnacle was reached with worldwide best seller ‘Hotel California‘ (1976), a defining LP of the times that in places – album closer ‘The Last Resort’ and the elegiac title-track to name two – found distortions to the American dream in this post-Woodstock, post-Watergate era.
Having enlisted guitar whiz/mayhem maker Joe Walsh to replace Leadon in time for ‘Hotel California’, along with fellow virtuoso Don Felder, (a 1974 recruit to the initial line-up), the Eagles were soft-rock purveyors but with a sharp edge – and with Henley in particular writing literate, allegorical lyrics, by 1977 they looked an aggregation with whom fault was hard to find.
On tiring of life at the top (perhaps more pertinently life at the top of the Eagles where Henley and Frey were calling the shots), Meisner quit in early 1978 to be replaced on bass by high-harmony specialist Timothy B. Schmit who joined from journeymen country-rockers Poco. The 1979 follow-up to ‘Hotel California‘ entitled ‘The Long Run‘ effortlessly topped charts around the globe but prompted a severe critical backlash, a slew of negative reviews increasing tensions within the band that surfaced during sessions for an album even the band members seemed dissatisfied with.
After completing their 1980 tour commitments and releasing a live album before the year was out, the Eagles for the next fourteen years at least, went their separate ways.
With cessation of group activity Walsh, who had maintained a solo career during his tenure in the band, was soon back releasing albums under his own name, while in May 1982 Frey dipped his toe in the post-Eagle waters with the likeable if somewhat lightweight ‘No Fun Aloud.’ It showed he had a good ear for pop ballads and slick r & b, but on this evidence, Henley had clearly been the Eagles main wordsmith – the impression borne out when he too entered the solo arena with ‘I CAN’T STAND STILL’ (August 1982).
By and large it is hard to envisage how 35-year-old Henley could have made a more accomplished debut. The album is well produced, the artist receiving assistance here from LA album stalwarts Greg Ladanyi and guitarist Danny Kortchmar, who also contributes a song of his own and co-writes a further six with Henley. Meanwhile entry to the studio in Sherman Oaks, California, was restricted to those bearing A-list credentials, the roster of musicians including Walsh, Schimt, Kortchmar, Steve Lukather, J.D. Souther, Ben Tench, Waddy Wachtel, Leland Sklar, Russ Kunkel, Garth Hudson, Jeff Porcaro, Andrew Gold, Warren Zevon, Paddy Moloney and Bill Withers.
Yet the record is much more than a gathering of great guests and session nobility serving to make for impressive reading on the inner sleeve.
What could have been a cracking cast, so-so script affair is far from what happens – Henley writing some imaginative lyrical couplets based on subject matter contemporaries such as Zevon, Jackson Browne, and Randy Newman had yet to tackle (although to varying degrees would go on to do so). In the process the former Eagles drummer says a number of interesting things about himself, the state of American society and the world at large.
At the suggestion of Kortchmar, in order to differentiate between his role in the Eagles and standing as a fully-fledged solo artist, Henley plays drums on only five of the eleven cuts and although first rate vocal performances cannot help at times to evoke his former outfit, the music is more diverse and contemporary (of 1982) – a consequence no doubt of working with different players and time to have elapsed since he was last in a recording studio.
At first glance the title-track looks a personal statement in regard to his career after the Eagles, yet the song itself depicts anxieties in a relationship where both parties find difficulty in compromising for the greater good. First of the half dozen Henley/Kortchmar collaborations to appear, fittingly the opening sound to be heard is Henley at the drums, the swirling organ effects created by the other co-writer not out of place on a Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers track of the time.
By verse two Henley at least can see the root of their troubles:
‘So we got a little problem baby/How to put together love and work/If I could figure out that one darlin’/I could save us from a world of hurt.’
Despite the often sombre tone to the lyrics, it is a solid, well-constructed rock song and although there is nothing to truly dislike about the next along ‘You Better Hang Up‘ neither is it particularly remarkable. Breezy and upbeat, the narrator of the piece is warning a friend against the pursuit of a married woman with whom he is smitten. Composed solely by Kortchmar, the performance is likable enough with Souther and Schmit doing their customary good job with the harmonies. But having contributed fine songs to James Taylor albums in the past, it is unlikely JT would have used the piece, the writer penning two superior songs of his own to the next couple of Henley albums.
‘Long Way Home‘ (another Henley/Kortchmar effort) is an altogether more substantial offering, this mournful ballad built on the sterling piano work of Heartbreaker Ben Tench. Coming over as a cross between ‘Hotel California‘ broken romance drama ‘Wasted Time‘ and mid-70s Eagles number one ‘The Best of My Love‘, Henley is again lamenting his conflicted emotions:
‘There’s three sides to every story/Yours and mine and the cold, hard truth/I think there’s something missing ’round here/I don’t know where it’s gone.’
Reminiscent in places of recent piano based compositions of Bruce Springsteen and Bob Seger, the latter receives a songwriting credit (along with Henley and Souther), on ‘Nobody’s Business,’ a propulsive track that rolls along in the style of Seger’s ‘Hollywood Nights.’
Like Dylan in ‘Positively 4th Street‘ a nameless person has clearly incurred his displeasure – and while putting misfortunes down to experience in the first two verses, by the bridge Henley is far less forgiving.
‘Well I guess for some revenge is sweet/Though it be once removed/I hope you feel better/I don’t know what you proved.’
Even then Henley has not finished being caustic. In November 1980 he was involved in a brush with the LAPD over a party at his home, the presence of prostitutes and drugs resulting in a fine of $2,500 and two years’ probation. In the song he refers to a ‘victimless crime‘ but whether or not the subject of his scorn is a former Eagle or one of their retinue, someone receives more derision as Henley sings:
‘Well yonder comes the Emperor, boys/He sure looks fine in blue/I hope you feel better, babe/I know you’re scared too.’
Side one closer ‘Talking to the Moon‘ again finds him in reflective mood, but annoyance has been replaced by wistful yearning for a quieter place and time, the mood conveyed by more expressive piano work from Tench.
Born in Linden, one such place, Henley refers to ‘sleepy little towns down in Texas‘ and ruminating on his journey through life thus far, he hopes they ‘never change’ in a piece written by himself and fellow native of Texas, Souther. The first song they had composed as a duo since ‘You Never Cry Like A Lover‘ on the 1974 ‘On The Border‘ Eagles album, this nicely crafted piece a yardstick for how much they had matured as songsmiths.
In many respects side two opener ‘Dirty Laundry‘ the track which has brought the album much of its renown, is one of the most important rock songs of the 1980s.
The first lyricist to critique an increasingly intrusive and vacuous media, his biting observations are supported by Kortchmar’s suitably atmospheric backing track of busy newsroom ambience – onto which Walsh and Lukather perform searing guitar solos.
‘We got the bubble-headed bleach-blonde who comes on at five/She can tell you ’bout the plane crash with a gleam in her eye/It’s interesting when people die/Give us dirty laundry.’
To his credit even in 1982 Henley detected how in the face of growing competitiveness between TV news channels human dignity was the element fast disappearing from a story. Was it really necessary for the grieving family to appear before television cameras seems the subtext of the song – and if so for whose benefit? Did they really need to be asked how they felt and in public at that?
‘Can we film the operation?/Is the head dead yet?/You know, the boys in the newsroom got a running bet/Get the widow on the set/We need dirty laundry.‘
With each line Henley skewers the whole process of news being manipulated to enhance ratings rather than inform the viewer – sensationalism fueling morbid curiosity among an audience led to believe the slightest detail, no matter how irrelevant, had context.
‘Dirty little secrets/Dirty little lies/We got our dirty little fingers in everybody’s pie/Love to cut you down to size/We love dirty laundry.’
Often described as an ‘anti-media rant‘, the song, that reached number three on the US charts when issued as a single early in 1983, is better viewed as a sharp, deadpan assessment of a medium ripe for ridicule. Thought to have been inspired in part by gratuitous reporting in relation to the recent deaths of Natalie Wood and John Belushi (and hostile media treatment he received in the wake of his 1980 arrest), Henley was accused of being dogmatic with the ‘Kick ’em when they’re up/Kick ’em when they’re down‘ refrain, but throughout hits his targets with repeated conviction.
From casting somewhat judgmental attention on broadcast media, Henley then turns his focus on the American educational system with ‘Johnny Can’t Read‘, the second of four Henley/Kortchmar tracks on side two.
Atop of an organ sound whose origins seem from an early-60s surf song, Henley describes how ‘Johnny can dance/Johnny can love/Johnny can push/Johnny can shove/Johnny can hang out/Johnny can talk tough/Johnny can get down and Johnny can throw up‘ – alas, however, he cannot read with nobody (‘teacher‘/’mommie‘/’society‘ or ‘Johnny‘) taking responsibility for his illiteracy.
Once more it is new territory for a lyricist of his stature to explore and even if there are ‘In the Ghetto‘ connotations to the lines, ‘Couple years later Johnny’s on the run/Johnny got confused and bought himself a gun/Well he went and did something that he shouldn’t oughta done/F.B.I on his trail/Use a gun go to jail’ the jaunty melody keeps it in the realms of wry social comment rather than urban tragedy.
Johnny is referenced again (‘Johnny’s in some cornfield/The early warning blows‘) in ‘Them and Us‘ but this time it is the entire planet rather than wayward individual who faces a bleak, uncertain future – the implications of nuclear conflict given satirical consideration in a tough rocking track.
With Kortchmar shooting out some fiery guitar lines, Henley ponders Armageddon albeit from a dark humour perspective:
‘In forty five minutes/It’ll all be done/We’ll all be good and crispy/But we’ll still be number one/And if things go from bad to worse/We can still kill them if they kill us first.‘
After three tracks when he has said a considerable amount on the failings of the press, pupils and politicians, Henley opts for a dramatic change of pace with the brief instrumental interlude of ‘La Eile‘ – its Gaelic flavour emphasised in Paddy Moloney (tin whistle) and Derek Bell (harp) of The Chieftains being the only musicians to feature on the track.
Serving as a prelude to ‘Lilah‘ for which the services of Moloney (uilleann pipes) are retained, Celtic overtones are once again apparent – Henley proving himself as adept with romance as he has been with realism in this tender, poetic love song:
‘After I’m gone there are some things that I will know I will miss/The taste of your mouth/The smell of the perfume on your wrist.’
Adding ‘Too-rah, loo-rah, loo-rah Lilah/Now, while all the streets are silent/Take my hand and come away‘ fuels the sense of Irish melancholy, its gentle lilt gradually giving way to the album closer, a reggae-infused run through of ‘The Unclouded Day‘ a gospel song previously covered by the Staple Singers, Willie Nelson and Johnny Cash among others. If nothing else it proved Henley, ably supported by Bill Withers at the chorus, had the vocal chops to customize any material no matter what its roots.
For the most part ‘I Can’t Stand Still‘ (which peaked at 24 on the US album charts), earned positive reviews, even if some critics found it hard to separate the art from the artist. ‘How can Don Henley sound so great on his own yet so jive with the Eagles‘ asked Rolling Stone in their review, while Robert Palmer in the New York Times opined, ‘the album has admirable coherence and as far as this listener is concerned, it’s better than anything Mr. Henley did with the Eagles.‘
Long serving Eagles antagonist, noted New York rock scribe Robert Christgau weighed in with, ‘If there were anything to actually like about the guy, his complaints and revelations might even be moving’ which as a back-handed compliment was up there with the reviewer who in his assessment of ‘The Long Run‘ said he liked the record but not the band. Even so, in his renowned A-D rating system, Christgau awarded ‘I Can’t Stand Still‘ a mark of B+ the highest he would bestow on any Henley album.
By the time of his next release the excellent ‘Building The Perfect Beast‘ (1984), fellow ex-Eagles Frey, Felder, Walsh and Schmidt had each put out albums but none bore comparison to what Henley was achieving, his standing as an eminent lyricist confirmed again on the equally engrossing ‘The End of the Innocence‘ (1989).
When the Eagles regrouped in 1994 Frey acknowledged the high standard of Henley’s (then) three album solo catalogue of which ‘I Can’t Stand Still‘ had been a notable first step. Amid the reconciliation he also praised the lyrical prowess of his songwriting partner with whom he had just begun to compose again.
‘Without Don’s lyrics,’ remarked Frey, ‘we’d have been Air Supply.‘
DON HENLEY – I CAN’T STAND STILL (Released August 13 1982):
I Can’t Stand Still/You Better Hang Up/Long Way Home/Nobody’s Business/Talking to the Moon/Dirty Laundry/Johnny Can’t Read/Them and Us/La Eile/Lilah/The Unclouded Day;
Hello – hope you enjoyed another exclusive production from SAMTIMONIOUS.com
In order to create the best experience for when you drop by to read a page or two, those with the power to ordain such things (me, actually), have decided to remove all external advertising from the site – in other words articles will no longer be subject to intrusive pop-up ads. BUT – and ain’t there always one – should you wish to make a donation toward the on-costs of the most entertaining and original blog-site around, please press on the – ‘DONATE’ – button below. It will be greatly appreciated.
Stay safe everyone and thanks for dropping by – best wishes Neil
SAMTIMONIOUS.com – films, football and fabulous music at The Dominion of Opinion
NEIL SAMBROOK is the author of ‘MONTY’S DOUBLE‘ – an acclaimed thriller available as an Amazon Kindle book.