This is going to be an oddly disjointed post. Sorry. Just thinking on my fingers, not actually certain what I'm reaching for, fairly certain I don't actually have a point. (Usually the music blogging is a Zombie/Bastard/Beer Snob/Questionable Content thingy.)
I wrote a post about Lemmy. At the time I struck out in my own individual musical direction, primarily 80's proto-thrash and prog-metal, Motorhead and Hawkwind were in my wheelhouse. Stuck with him for a long damn time. I suspect sections of heaven are burning, littered with angels thoroughly exhausted from right rogerings.
I didn't blog about Bowie largely because I had paid less attention to him for some time, but there is no doubt his early 70's output was amazing (and as others have said, who in hell expected Iggy to be the one living...). I picked him up in college - not going to claim that Eau Claire, WI was necessarily hip, but proximity to the Twin Cities was an improvement upon La Crosse (sells out Kenny Rogers four La Crosse Center Grand Opening shows in 3 hours this is one of 17 reasons why I have NO fucking nostalgia for home) WI. See you later, Thin White Ziggy.
Now, Glenn Frey. This is different, though. I dislike the Eagles, and although his solo output was certainly alright, it wasn't mesmerizing. Hell, I don't necessarily hate the Eagles country rock stuff, it was alright. But why do I react like that, when, to a lot of people in an range of ages, the Eagles are still huge, and I am very wary of being the sort of douchebag who hates the Eagles because other douchebags hate the Eagles. To me, the famous scene in The Big Lebowski got it close, just exasperation, fed up with them. Rephrase that as "Not the Eagles again, man". In the Twin Cities they remain a monstrous draw, due in large part to two classic rock stations, one that has the Eagles on heavy rotation, the other, KQ92, (home of the Grand Dragon and the White Sheet Bunch Morning Crew) promising and over-delivering the Eagles every five minutes on the minute.
When I was 12, La Crosse got a 'classic rock' station. Up to that time, there was country, old country, a talk radio station that had ChickenMan and a daily comment by the station's owner, and top forty. Yes, top 40 music in 1980 would have made an excellent soundtrack to steering an asteroid into the planet. And 1981. 1982. '83 to 2015 inclusive, you're getting me off track. 'Classic Rock' was different, and guitar-based (kind of a constant for me, I like's me some shredding). I loved it, it was different, at 12 years old "Bang On A Drum" by Todd Rundgren was turn it up time. And they played the Eagles. "Hotel California". "Life In The Fast Lane". Rinse. Repeat. Loved it.
And I've now heard it. Every tune. Repeatedly. The "New Kid In Town" is now an elderly man sitting on the bench yelling at kids to get off the park.
Let's be clear.
The Eagles made good music. Professionally written. Professionally produced. F follows C♭ after the appropriate pause. At some point, the Eagles lost art and were making a calculated product. Nothing wrong with that. Billy Corgan clearly had pretensions to out-Rostokovich Rostokovich, but still did his damnedest to sell a gazillion records. (And fucking "Cherub Rock" kills, fuck anyone who disagrees.)
Hell, I don't know. Rest in peace, Mr. Frey. You did stuff to take pride in, and that's not nothing. I just heard you riding your own coattails for faaaaarrr too long, and I'm not too concerned at missing the Eagles on one of their final tour reunions.