Wednesday, November 25, 2020

Intelligent Conversation

This could be heaven or this could be hell

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McPhee joins growing list of Ravens’ positive tests before Pittsburgh game

The veteran outside linebacker won't be able to play in the Pittsburgh game, which is still scheduled for Thursday night.

Grieving the loss of the Calvert Hall and Loyola on Thanksgiving Day

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Andrews: “People are starting to count us out, and that’s fine”

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It almost feels a bit trite putting this one in here but harmonies and melodies and soulful voices and songs that you can sing have always been at the core of the passion of my #MusicalNes journey.

 

I don’t need to justify this one – The Eagles and “Hotel California” had an impact on all of us.

 

I remember hearing “New Kid In Town” and “Best of My Love” at the RollArena on North Point Road during couple skates but it was a summer drive to a Delaware Dairy Queen with my cousin Heidi and the windows down accompanied by “Life In The Fast Line” that solidified how I needed this to be among my first full-length vinyl selections.

 

It had been the No. 1 album in the country for weeks when my Pop bought it for me at Eastpoint Mall in the Summer of 1977. I remember sitting in my bedroom studying the liner notes and looking for the boogeyman in the window. I had no idea just how much sex, cocaine and alcohol was involved in the making of this highest form of Southern California country rock art.

 

The warm smell of colitas was in the air before I even knew that they were a “different” kind of flower. I have spent hours of my life watching The Eagles rock doc, which explains all of this quite impressively and (also quite frankly) with far more clarity. I have seen them gather on many warm summer nights and inside even more ice-cold hockey rinks and croon their songs all over America.

 

Their catalog is a soundtrack of American life during our lifetime.

 

We certainly miss the country-fried, silky smooth Glenn Frey. And no one sings better than Don Henley or prettier than Timothy B. Schmitt. And a big “Hi, there, how’re you?” to Joe Walsh, who entered this party and made The Eagles even better.

 

They stab it with their steely knives, but they just can’t kill the beast. Sometimes, to keep it together, you have to leave it alone. They will never forget you ‘til somebody new comes along.

 

You know all of the hits on this one but the real gift here is “The Last Resort” and its final, haunting lyric. There is no finer song or statement about our country. I finally left it all behind and sailed off to Lahaina, just like the missionaries did last October. And when you call someplace “paradise” – kiss it goodbye.

 

Very prescient, Don!

 

As usual…

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