Seen and heard strictly through the hindsight of a half-century, Eagles’ sophomore album Desperado qualifies as the iconic band’s great ‘lost’ album, despite the fact it is their most finely-wrought effort this side of the iconic Hotel California.
After the smash hit that was the Eagles’ eponymous debut, this second LP was a commercial disappointment, despite (or perhaps because of) the middling performance as a single of “Tequila Sunrise.” More to the point, though, is its artful but sometimes over-obvious interweaving of Old West themes with modern rock and roll band metaphors: to some extent even now, likening guitars to guns seems a pretentious stretch.
As with the banjo-dominated instrumental version of “Doolin-Dalton,” though, there’s a purpose to the choices of arrangement. It’s a match for an often cynical perspective that implicitly broaches the group’s jaundiced view of their own success. Such a self-serving attitude only heightened the rancor these ultra-prosperous musicians endured from certain quarters an intensity that’s seemingly grown over the years in proportion to the increasing solidity of The Eagles’ popularity.
The country/bluegrass influence was a prominent instrumental theme of Desperado, though, much more effective in those terms than the stylistic contrivance of the debut record. “Twenty-One” is the embodiment of the jaunty high-spirits that accompany youth, just as the largely acoustic, harmony-laden, “Doolin-Dalton,” defines melancholy. It may be the most affecting cut on the record and also works effectively as a short instrumental interlude at the home stretch.
Meanwhile, the harder rock sound Detroit native Glenn Frey championed found its corollary in the cacophony of “Out Of Control,” where Don Henley slams away at his drum kit with unabashed glee. Composing seven of the eleven numbers together not only solidified these two men’s writing partnership (and their eventual stewardship of the group), but the pair’s creative synergy inspired their bandmates.
Bassist Randy Meisner (an original member of country-rock pioneers Poco) chipped in with the titular leaders on “Certain Kind of Fool” and “Saturday Night,” while multi-instrumentalist Bernie Leadon contributed to the latter as well as the number of the aforementioned roots plus “Bitter Creek.” Eagles’ grouped voices have never sounded eerier than on this last number and its dark atmosphere correlates with the former ode to romanticism, its deliberately tentative tone a vivid contrast with the abandoned likes of David Blue’s “Outlaw Man.”
That track is certainly equal to, and perhaps even superior to the title number, the reprise of which with orchestra–paired with the aforementioned paean to the co-leaders of a renegade outfit born in the 19th century–is the better of the two versions on the thirty-five-minute record. Still, the dual placement of both numbers, in combination with the linkage thereof, goes a long way toward clarifying the complementary ideas at the heart of the project, not to mention its nuanced execution.
The cover art mirrors the fundamental intent behind Desperado too, and not just in the portrait of the group on the front. The photo on the back depicts not just the quartet, but kindred spirits Jackson Browne, an early champion of the thematic approach, and J.D. Souther, like the former a songwriting contributor on multiple compositions here. Other members of the group’s entourage, including Johns, also appear in full cowboy regalia.
The slightly tongue-in-cheek air of those images is just enough to deflate the pomposity that, with the retrospect of fifty years’ time, might otherwise arise from and undermine the impact of the lofty sentiments pervading Desperado.
