'Big Balls and a Heart Full of Love'
A lot has been and will be written about my first songwriting partner and best friend in Los Angeles. His charisma, musical genius, discipline and relentless hustle were absolutely genuine. Glenn Frey believed in himself, his partners and the power of good music. I've never known anyone like him. He made my life more fun, more trouble and harder work than it had ever been before. I love him. Here is a story you haven't heard.
When Glenn and I were partners in a duo called Longbranch/Pennywhistle in 1969 and 1970, we played free gigs in the park, open-mic gigs at folk clubs, political rallies, an afternoon show at a Catholic girls high school (don't ask) and pass-the-hat gigs at even smaller folk clubs. In other words, we played everywhere for free. But we played our music. Our music.
Souther and Frey's 1969 album as Longbranch/Pennywhistle.Courtesy Photo
The very first taste of what we used to call the "million-dollar future" was an arena show at the University of California, San Diego, opening for Cheech & Chong and Buffy Sainte-Marie. I have no idea how we got on that peculiar bill, but such were the times. Strange things were happening. Legendary producer-manager Lou Adler, who managed Cheech & Chong, flew us all down to San Diego in his Lear jet. It took 25 minutes. This was a trip that took two-and-a-half hours in my ailing Sunbeam Alpine, a beaten red roadster with no heater, to play for free at The Candy Company, where our pal Jack Tempchin ran an open-mic night. Not tonight!
On this auspicious occasion, we would be playing to thousands of people for the first time yet made the unusual decision to avail ourselves of a psychotropic substance about an hour prior to stage time (again … just don't ask). While the hallucinogen was beginning to round the edges in the locker room before the show, I started a new song with which to open our set. Glenn started strumming along, harmonizing the choruses, adding a great guitar figure, and just as we had the thing only slightly more under control than ourselves, Lou stuck his head in and said, "Guys, you're on." Really? We just stood there, guitars strapped on, each with a foot on a bench in our ragged Levi's and boots, staring numbly and wondering if we had gone too far. Then we both burst out laughing, and Glenn said. "OK, John David. Let's go for it!"
Frey and Henley during a phone interview in 1975.Barry Schultz /Sunshine via ZUMA Press
So two best friends who lived in a run-down box in Echo Park stepped out into the big time for the first time. Before the largest audience either of us had seen, I stomped my right foot, Glenn flipped his hair, and we opened our set, high as the sky, with a song that hadn't existed an hour before. You need a real partner with big balls and a heart full of love to try that. We nailed it.
That's Glenn Frey. --
JD Souther
Producer Szymczyk (far right) with (from left) the Eagles’ Bernie Leadon, Frey, Henley, Randy Meisner and Don Felder in 1974.Henry Diltz
'Glenn Had This All Laid Out'
Back in 1973, the Eagles were interviewing producers to do their
On the Border album. I was somewhat hesitant when both Joe Walsh and Irving Azoff said to me, "You've got to talk to the Eagles." I didn't want to make country records; I wanted to make rock albums. They said, "Well, they want to rock!"
The Eagles onstage in 1974.Gijsbert Hanekroot/Redferns
Don Henley and Glenn Frey had a few specific questions for me when we met. Henley asked how many mics would I put on his drums. Their earlier producer, Glyn Johns, would only put like two or three, where I would put up to eight or nine -- so of course Henley was happy with that answer. Glenn wanted to know how long he could take on his guitar solos. I said, "As long as it takes." "Already Gone" was the very first track that I ever worked on with the band -- day one, track one. We ended up spending a good eight hours on all his lead parts. In the liner notes for
The Very Best of the Eagles, Glenn paid me one of the greatest compliments I have ever received. He told Cameron Crowe that he "was much more comfortable in the studio with Bill, and he was more than willing to let everyone stretch a bit. 'Already Gone' -- that's me being happier; that's me being free."
When I came in to do
On the Border, the Eagles were just starting to scratch the surface of what they could be. At some point, people thought Henley was the R&B guy and Glenn was the country guy. They got that backward. Even though Henley really appreciated R&B, he wasn't anywhere near as immersed in it as Glenn and I were. When they later made solo records, Henley made
Cass County, whereas Glenn would do R&B. He and I were both from Michigan originally, and we were both complete R&B junkies, into all those great soul singers, from Otis Redding and Sam & Dave to all the Willie Mitchell records, things like that. He came out of that soul thing, but at the same time, he was in a country-rock band. It was the combination of those two things that was so distinctive in Glenn's voice.
Frey in 2013.James Glader
One of Glenn's nicknames was Roach, and my nickname was Coach. I would take a bunch of great, obscure R&B singles and put them on a cassette, and I'd say, "You've got to listen to these" -- things that I knew that he hadn't heard. And he'd turn right around and send one to me. So we had these Coach-to-Roach and Roach-to-Coach cassettes going back and forth. That was our little club.
Glenn was the MC of the Eagles' shows, that's for sure. He was The Guy. I think Henley said it best in his statement: "He was the spark plug, the man with the plan." And that was true. I mean, Glenn had this all basically laid out, and to some degree, all of us were like, 'OK, we're along for the ride -- let's go.' " --
Bill Szymczyk