Eagles

Hotel California

May Satan have mercy on their souls

Review Score:

(2/10)
The Eagles were, once upon a time, a fairly acceptable, not too offensive country-rock band. They pedalled their palatable melodies to a reasonably appreciative audience, and all was well. Then they went and took a load of gak, turned into ego fuelled drug monsters, and produced appalling corporate soft-rock. Yes kids! They made Hotel California.

In a sane world they would have sold seven copies; been dropped by their label; taken up residence in cardboard box in a one horse town and spent the rest of their lives selling their blood, semen and wedding tackle in the hope of just one more line. In this world, however, the Eagles went from commercial strength to commercial strength, even as the relationships within the band fell apart; the record industry discovered that you could sell music to people who didn't like music, spawning everyone from Limp Bizkit to Shania Twain; cocaine and its derivatives became the soul salvation of choice for those rich enough, or desperate enough, to pay for it; and, in the end, we all lived unhappily ever after.

This is the worst album ever made, and THIS is what drugs will do to you.

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