By Don Felder
Don Felder was once only a bad boy from Florida, but if he joined the Eagles he soared into the stratosphere. along former bandmates Don Henley, Glenn Frey, Randy Meisner, and Felder's adolescence buddy Bernie Leadon, he bought hundreds of thousands of files (Eagles: Their maximum Hits: 1971-1975 is the bestselling album of all time), played sooner than numerous adoring lovers, and co-wrote the popular hit 'Hotel California'. His guitar-playing skill lifted the band from mere attractiveness to iconic prestige. And now Don Felder ultimately breaks the Eagles' many years of public silence to take lovers behind the curtain - the place medicinal drugs, greed and unending acrimony threatened to rip the band aside virtually day-by-day. perhaps there has been an excessive amount of expertise. probably the personalities clashed with the egos. regardless of the cause, there have been consistently those explosive arguments occurring whereas I sat silently in a nook. I by no means anticipated it to outlive. by no means as soon as did i think, 'Hey, I acquired it made. This thing's gonna final for years.' Felder was once flawed approximately that, yet he was once additionally correct: the band break up up in 1980, merely to reunite for 1994's mega-selling 'Hell Freezes Over' album and tour.But tempers endured to flare, and in 2001, after 27 contentious years as an Eagle, Felder used to be summarily fired by way of the 'board of directors': Frey and Henley. proceedings and counter-suits undefined. In 'Heaven and Hell', Felder takes us contained in the pressurised recording studios, the trashed lodge rooms and the tension-filled courtrooms, the place he, Frey, and Henley had their final war of words.
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Additional resources for Heaven And Hell: My Life In The Eagles (1974-2001)
Piranhas," she said and pointed to the yellow tile. "You do love me," she said. We slid on the magazines, and that became part of the step. The music was over, maybe for a long time. "Freddie,'' she said again. And all the time, inside the frenzy was the calm. Memory hovered about my head, becoming visible at intervals, like particles of dust in twilight—the alley behind the Bree where we bought pot, beneath the slide in the Woodard schoolyard where Dee Page 58 and I first made love, the corner of 5th and Main where the knobby prostitutes hawked, the vacant lot behind the Mesa Drive—In where we made up dialogue for the huge silent screen, all the places we grew up lost—the men in suits and vests with highpolish shoes, the bearded transvestite who collected bottles in the basket of his bicycle, the black butcher with red slabs of meat, the abandoned Sinclair station covered with names, my name, Dee's, Lonnie's, Wilson's, Eugene's—the curtains of my parents' house drawn closed, the liquor store on 49th with the neon dinosaur, the allnight diner on 4th Avenue, Lonnie's Coupe de Ville, the asphalt bedrooms, the Unemployment building, my mother, who told me the last people who lived here didn't know how to behave.
Go back to sleep," Charley said again. " I asked. He didn't say anything. " "You woke us up," I said. " I asked. Ask was too offended to reply. " Ask didn't want the story to fizzle out. Charley relaxed but Ask seemed tense, so I elbowed him under the sheet. I hooked my head around the porch railing, but all I could see was neon red, yellow, blue. " "You're too young to understand," he said. " "What you said to her," I said. Page 35 Charley didn't do anything but stare at us, then back at the cafe.
He wiped at his face, eyebrows. "Ask Wilson," he said. "Wilson is clean," I said again, louder. We cheated together on spelling, stole cigarettes from Quick Mart, made a wreath from oleander leaves for her mother's grave. Now he was clean, but she was gone. He, at least, would be sympathetic—we were both looking for girlfriends. I headed for the Unemployment building. My letters were returned. It was then she promised to come to Oregon in the summer. " I asked. I just threw it back at her upside down to make her hush.