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Eagles at the Rose Bowl

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Robert Hilburn’s post-mortem of a dynamic, playful and thoroughly satisfying rock ‘n’ roll show was so far off base that he must be operating in a parallel universe (“Final Flight for the Eagles?,” Jan. 23).

Even Mother Nature must be an Eagles fan--the clouds parted during a series of heavy storms and the rain we were willing to endure never materialized.

Here’s what really happened. The intrepid crowd of 60,000 boomers had a major blast! We sang, clapped, danced, whistled and howled our approval. We begged for encore after encore. When we got hoarse, we held lighted matches aloft, with Don Henley responding in kind at one point. Speaking of Henley, didn’t Hilburn hear him say he had a cold? The man is still a mere mortal, yet he gave it all to the crowd, refusing to hold back. He sang his heart out for three hours. We understood the few rough patches. Apparently Hilburn did not.

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The rest of the band more than excelled. Glenn Frey sang with a power and joy that was absent last spring (yes, I was there too). Don Felder energetically hammed it up with Joe Walsh, prancing across the stage in lock-step as they traded licks. Heck, I even saw the usually reserved Timothy B. Schmit bouncing around, grinning and blasting that bass. One of the finest moments was seeing the five musicians, who allegedly can’t get along for five minutes, packed in like sardines guitar to guitar, doing a line dance.

The Rose Bowl was technically imperfect but, considering the venue, sound was surprisingly tight. The mood was ebullient and that Southern California crowd got a Saturday-night concert that will not be soon forgotten.

Thanks, guys, it was a ball! Let’s do it again soon!

JOAN TROSSMAN BIEN

Moorpark


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