Caught up in the Action
Sat Apr 7, 2007
I’ve been cursed.
I cannot exorcise Glenn Frey’s “The Heat Is On.” I found it on youtube, this video from a more innocent era where it was modish to wear white sneakers with jeans and a sports coat, and played it for Clancy, who loved it.
Now, as I’ve been composing a paper all day on the uses of some new literary theory, it haunts me. I’m always interested in people’s opinion of The Eagles and their ejecta (“heat,” remember). Not by accident did the Dude hate them, and I think Christgau’s a bit too bilious to get it—though undoubtedly well intentioned.
My theory’s (not my literary theory, which is actually more of a technical issue in narrative analysis than anything else) that sometime in the early seventies it was the David Geffens—not the Robert Johnsons—who went to the crossroads (think any L.A. locale from Gaucho). The Eagles, Guns and Roses, Nirvana, etc.