Dirty Laundry

We enjoyed reading Ross Raihala’s review of Don Henley’s performance at the Grandstand earlier this week, although we ourselves can’t imagine a worse way to spend an afternoon than a Don Henley show at the State Fair. Honestly, this is why we’ve always admired the great music writers for the Cities’ two major papers — Raihala and the Star Tribune’s Chris Reimenschneider — because they’re out there ‘taking one for the team.’

One Pioneer Press reader didn’t appreciate Raihala’s lukewarm response to the former Eagle and apparent American legend:

Ross Raihala Don Henley review

Ever since Jeff Bridges spoke for the countless millions who have quietly suffered in the cabs of the world (not to mention the waiting rooms and shopping malls) in The Big Lebowski, the Eagles have become a cultural flash-point. The Eagles are one of the easiest bands in the world to hate, and you wouldn’t believe how often we hear “I hate the fucking Eagles, man!” in our record shop.

We received similar messages of righteous outrage after making light of the Big Lebowski scene after Henley’s bandmate, Glenn Frey, passed away last year. Legends to a certain generation perhaps, the Eagles are to many the absolute apex of elite indulgence, arrogance and bombast. Henley, in particular, ought to have gone to prison after an underage prostitute overdosed in his home.

Raihala’s review of the show makes no mention of the wellspring of loathing for Henley’s coke-fueled and vapid music, but only his well-documented wooden stage presence. And of course of Henley’s HISTORY of record-setting price gouging. It’s not like he sang this song…


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