The Eagles - Desperado (1973)

What was it like to be an outlaw on the American frontier, traveling across the dusty prairie on the run from the law, riding into a town with guns a-blazin' to rob the First National Bank, or just causing havoc in the local saloon after too much to drink? The Eagles, who picked up on the similarities between the rock and roll lifestyle of the 1970s and the Western outlaw mystique of the 1870s, didn't concern themselves with an historically accurate portrayal of the Old West so much as they demonstrated how much America had not changed since the frontier closed. Desperado, their partially fictionalized song cycle about the life of Bill Doolin - the King of the Oklahoma Outlaws - and his association with the Dalton Gang, was really a metaphor for their own times. America in 1973 was still very much a nation of transient souls always on the road.  Associations lasted only as long as the trip to the next motel on the interstate, and a breakdown of respect for the law and an increasing cynicism toward higher ideals ensued. The greatest outlaw of all, though, was the rock and roll musician who lived by his own rules and code.

The songs of the Eagles' second album tell a straightforward story of how Bill Doolin joins with the Dalton Gang and wastes his youth on a life of crime but also on carousing and illicit romances. After sticking primarily to a country style on their debut LP, the band stretches out on Desperado to incorporate other pop forms, keeping a country and western vibe intact on the bluegrass-tinged "Twenty-One" - written by guitarist Bernie Leadon and voicing Bill Doolin's self-importance - and "Tequila Sunrise," a ballad about loss of innocence, but also offering up brutally hard rock in "Out Of Control" - with instruments played out of tune and time at the end to simulate a barroom fight - and a delicate waltz in "Saturday Night," an acknowledgment of frittered youth and loneliness.  

Throughout Desperado, the music is tighter and more sour than the sort of country-based "soft-rock" hits the Eagles are famous for, with even the lighter numbers exhibiting a sense of disillusionment.  Leadon and Glenn Frey almost make their guitars sneer, and Randy Meisner's bass keep the music moving along steadily.  The vocals - recalling the precise harmonies of Crosby, Stills and Nash but maintaining a hint of bite to them - are Desperado's strongest asset, of course, adding a touch of malice to the seamless music.  The concept of this record is more concise than the sprawling ideas that would fuel Hotel California three years later, with the story of Bill Doolin told without a single wasted moment. Songs blend with one another, with a few crossfades (and a strategically placed extended gap between "Doolin-Dalton," which opens and sets up Desperado, and the rest of the album), and producer Glyn Johns wisely avoids too much of a gloss on the overall sound.

The centerpiece of  Desperado, of course, is the Ray Charles-style soul balladeering of drummer Don Henley in the title track, which became the group's "Yesterday."  Henley, who wrote the song with Frey, muses on the futility of aimless life on the road, urging Doolin - and, not so coincidentally, a restless, Nixon-fatigued America in 1973 - to settle down and "let somebody love you before it's too late."  Listening to "Desperado," you get the feeling that both the fates of Doolin and America have already been sealed.  That - not the authenticity of outlaw lore - is the whole point.        

(Note: Desperado is the only Eagles album to feature a photo of the band on the front cover.  From left, the original Eagles - Don Henley, Glenn Frey, Randy Meisner, and Bernie Leadon.)