With the black background for austere lettering spelling out the group’s name and the album title, the funereal cover art is ideal for Eagles’ The Long Run. In contrast to the panoramic technicolor of 1976’s Hotel California, this sixth LP of the mega-successful group is like a piece of film noir cinema, rife with shadowy figures less symbolic than those of the prior long-player, more often grounded in archetypes that reaffirm the truth(s) of their deceptive superficiality.
Even apart from the splendid (authorized) documentary film History of the Eagles, more than one credible account exists of the toxic mix of creative ennui and personal friction that afflicted the recording sessions. So it should come as no surprise that the real standouts on the record belong to latter-day recruits bassist/vocalist Timothy B. Schmit (taking the place of Randy Meisner as he also did in Poco) and guitarist /vocalist Joe Walsh.
Yet, with the perspective afforded by four and a half decades, the appearance of this pair of tracks early in the sequence of ten cuts solidifies the album’s pacing. The former’s “I Can’t Tell You Why” may be the sole archetypal ‘Eagles’ cut here (though the ultra-clean sheen of the production courtesy of Bill Szymczyk is nothing if not familiar). The bassist’s softly intoned lead voice hearkens to the ballads of 1974’s On The Border–“Best Of My Love” and “You Never Cry Like A Lover”–while the gentle harmonies sound designed to cushion the blow of the painful situation the author’s describing (grounded in a lack of communication that may have plagued this project?).
The latter’s contribution originally appeared on the movie soundtrack to Warriors (credited solely to the songwriter himself), and here, with grand riffing at the heart of it and group vocals that both soothe and assault, the cut still resounds like no one so much as the one-time linchpin of the James Gang gone solo (during which time Eagles members played and sang with him: see the 1976 live release You Can’t Argue With A Sick Mind).
It thus seems no coincidence these two tracks immediately follow the title tune at the outset of this forty-two-plus minutes. A punchy horn section to accompany Don Henley’s soulful singing might’ve punctuated “The Long Run” and, in that scenario, would neatly correspond to the lone sax of David Sanborn on “The Sad Cafe:” the abject sentimentality of the latter closing number is tempered by its reference to Neil Young’s lavish Buffalo Springfield production “Expecting to Fly.”
Still, that’s hindsight of forty-five years, but it does hearken to how suffocating The Long Run sounded upon its original release (and still does to some degree). Compared to the Eagles above commercial blockbuster, the 1979 material too often lacks substance (by a wide margin) and, in that regard, “Heartache Tonight” is the most egregious: nothing but a contrived audience singalong cum blues shuffle, this cut of the ten–perhaps tellingly sung by the late Glenn Frey–is the most indicative of the scarcity of inspiration the fivesome brought to the recording sessions (conducted in five different studios over eighteen months, initially conceived to create a double album).
The aforementioned Number One and Grammy Award-winner is, however, a cut above the drunken brawl in the song “The Greeks Don’t Want No Freaks.” Fortunately, lasting only 2:21, its placement as the penultimate number illustrates how it, and the more memorable numbers on The Long Run, distinguish themselves in the oddest of ways.
“The Disco Strangler” might otherwise sound terminally contrived if not for the knotty guitar figures at the composition’s heart (supplied by guitarist Don Felder). Likewise, while “King of Hollywood” and “Teenage Jail” radiate a self-consciously portentous air, both cuts not only presage the ‘greed is good’ ethos of the Eighties but also manifest more than a little relevance to our contemporary era.
Reptilian characters and ominous narratives rise above cliche even as the compositional structure, arrangements, and musicianship move them far from the country-rock hybrid of the Eagles’ debut or its follow-up Desperado. And “Those Shoes” is yet another foreboding commentary on lifestyle comparable to the discerning but bitter likes of “Life In The Fast Lane” or “New Kid in Town.”
At this juncture, the Eagles’ dual titular leaders Henley and Frey were too artistically disjointed (and bitterly so) to conjure up much chemistry comparable to their once overflowing inspiration as co-writers. Thus, throughout The Long Run, there’s a palpable sense of those two adversely affecting the rest of the band as they (presumably) all do their best to squeeze the last bit of life out of their collaboration.
That collective state of Eagles affairs renders the 1994 reunion miraculous. Named after the well-worn phrase Henley used to respond to repeated inquiries about such an occurrence in the fifteen years following The Long Run, the Hell Freezes Over campaign began on MTV, then continued into lengthy touring worldwide.
And, as lethal the criticism from various quarters as the group endured in the first phase of its career–much of it engendering direct ripostes from the band members–the public’s recollection of their music remained sufficiently hearty to support the continued road work. Hence the popularity of their Greatest Hits 1971-1975 too: released without the group’s prior knowledge or permission as they worked on the followup as mentioned above to 1975’s One Of These Nights, it has become the top-selling title of its kind since its release (the de rigeur concert package Eagles Live was the fulfillment of a contractual obligation pure and simple).
The subsequent ouster of Felder in 2001 was fraught with acrimony. Still, neither that sea change nor the truly seismic occurrence of Frey’s passing fifteen years later stemmed the momentum of the latterday Eagles career. In 2023, the reconfigured lineup introduced a farewell tour (sarcastically?) dubbed ‘The Long Goodbye,’ within which the announcement was the proviso this final road sojourn would continue as long as demand for tickets sustained additional dates.
While it may be arguable that attendees at these shows duly notice the absence of former members or the presence of newcomers in the persons of Frey’s son Deacon and guitarist/vocalist Vince Gill, that hardly matters: the singular sound that originally connected with the masses—the blueprint for which may be the Jackson Browne co-write “Take It Easy”—generally populates the setlists.
Nevertheless, with a selection from The Long Run, “Those Shoes,” offered on the opening night of the Eagles 2024 run at The Sphere in Las Vegas, it’s clear these artists themselves haven’t forgotten that album, even if it’s altogether possible (probable?) the majority of the music-loving populace might’ve.
