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Hearing
the Voice of an Eagle Linda Ronstadt. Jackson Browne. J.D. Souther. Tom Roland. There’s four names you often mention in the same breath, right? According to The Eagles’ publicist Larry Solters, we’re the only four people who have ever been on stage with the band in his 19 year association with The Eagles. And it’s a story you won’t believe. I’ve had the weekend to think about it, and I don’t quite believe it myself. Last Wednesday, when The Eagles performed the first of two shows at Starwood Amphitheater, the concert drew a very good review in The Tennessean. It was, in fact, on of the 10 best shows I’ve seen—and I’ve probably seen close to 1,000. But there was a moment during the final notes of One of These Nights when I detected a discrepancy between the words coming from Don Henley’s mouth and the image of him singing on the video screen. It raised a question in my mind whether that section might be taped and a record executive I saw during intermission had the same question. So, the review included: “Henley, it must be noted, seemingly taped the high parts for his vocal vamp at the close of One of These Nights, but who cares? It’s still amazing he hit some of those suckers on the original 2o years ago, and he delivered all the others flawlessly, even though he spent most of the evening slamming the sticks.” Eagles manager Irving Azoff called Thursday when he saw the review, assured me the vocals were live, and we ran a story on Friday quoting Azoff. That wasn’t enough. Azoff and The Eagles’ publicist Lisa Vega made sure I had tickets and backstage passes for the Friday show where Solters asked to have The Tennessean state definitively that the vocals were live. Solters didn’t want to risk another discrepancy, so he decided I should stand next to Henley while he performed the song. Sure enough, they wheeled me out to stand next to Henley’s drum set during One of These Nights—me laughing all the way at the absurdity: trying to stay out of a cameraman’s path, watching Don Felder play a solo from the back side, and seeing that whole mass of 17,000 people out front. When Henley reached the section in question, he mouthed “Watch this!” as he launched into this part. To be honest, I couldn’t hear everything he sang. Feeder’s guitar drowned out much of his performance from my vantagepoint. But I can now say for certain that Henley is live. As The Eagles broke for intermission, Henley gave me a questioning state to which I responded, “I missed a bar; could you do it again?” Perhaps it was inappropriate; but then again, there is no protocol for such a surreal event. The band came out with a lot more passion after intermission, and Henley was not letting go. In the opening of his venomous, media-bashing Dirty Laundry, he placed his hand over his mouth, as if restraining himself from making some sort of nasty comment. And he changed one line of the song—“Well, I could’ve been an actor…”—to “I could’ve been a writer…” I don’t save much of the music memorabilia I get, but I’m definitely keeping my backstage pass from that night. It’s not every day that you write a good review, inadvertently tick off the drummer and join the band on stage.
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