Oklahoma, I'm happy to report, is not in a recession.

Take it from me, your reliable local music critic. You want economic indicators? You could go talk to bankers and actuaries and pencil-pushers of every shape, but if you want real physical evidence of the average Oklahoman's financial health, consider this: at up to $90 a ticket, this weekend's Don Henley concert sold out in less than an hour.

It's at the Brady Theater, so that's just less than 3,000 folks with C-notes to burn.

More than that, too, because the very Saturday afternoon the tickets sold out my phone began ringing. People I didn't know or haven't spoken with in a long time were calling: "Hey, do you have any way of scoring me some Don Henley tickets?" Many of them were willing to fork over absurd amounts of cash for a pair of seats. They were ravenous, drooling, bloodthirsty, desperate to thrill or pacify spouses. (And, no, for the record, I can't get anyone any tickets.)

Why the fuss over a tuneful artist full of so much lyrical anger? Why the frenzy over an aging '70s stud who looks like Martin Sheen?

Because Henley is the only Eagle who can still fly.

The most successful solo member of one of the most successful '70s bands -- the Eagles' greatest hits package and the "Hotel California" remain among the Top 10 bestsellers of all time -- Henley has released only four albums under his own name. When the various Eagles went solo, none of them sounded like the Eagles. But none of them sounded as interesting (back then) as the grumpy guy from Gilmer, Texas. He couldn't sing as well as Detroit R&B guy Glenn Frey, and he couldn't wield an ax like boorish lunatic Joe Walsh, but Henley had something we always discount until they grab us by the throat: songs.

From the organ-ic groove of his first solo hit, "Dirty Laundry," Henley began churning out lean, tight tunes full of earthy gusto he wouldn't have gotten from his fellow birds. His hits and his album tracks have shown a talented albeit split personality. On one side, he's a rugged American male who doesn't get love at all, but my how he tries! On the other, he's a frustrated folk singer railing against perceived gestapos closing in around him and bemoaning "this brave new world, gone bad again."

Henley waited out his '90s record  contract to return to Warner Bros., where he hoped to have more creative freedom. His 2000 release, "Inside Job," was his first album in 11 years. He'd kept himself busy, what with Eagles reunions and all (don't forget, up-front tickets for that '95 Eagles tour were going for official prices of $500). It's not clear what artistic freedoms he was waiting on; "Inside Job" sounds as if it were canned in 1987, complete with synthesizer solos and outmoded ... er, excuse me, traditional songcraft. Politically, it finds him as cranky as ever, sticking to his environmentalist causes ("Goodbye to a River"). Emotionally, the album shows a maturing man finally getting a handle on love thanks to his marriage.

This is the album he's still supporting on this high-dollar tour. Let's face it, Frey and Walsh together couldn't command this ticket price. And while the eager outlays of cash for this show indicates some measure of economic health, keep in mind that Henley's fans are mostly educated, older (white) baby boomers.