Anyone who reads this blog knows I travel a lot. Nine countries so far this year, five of them via hitchhiking. It came up the other day – how people often get rooted to a place, how they come to feel trapped in a place, even though – or partly because – they love it. Fine line between rooted and trapped. I don’t have the answer. But since the conversation turned to music, I’ll ramble through a musical tangent.
First and most obviously, we thought of the Eagles song, “Hotel California,” with the title as a thinly veiled metaphor for California itself. When you’re out in the desert looking for relief, it’s a place of glamour and glitz that pulls you in. Lovely women and sweet summer sweat, pretty boys and pink champagne. You think it will satisfy all your desires. When you finally realize that the place “can’t kill the beast” of desire, that it’s a surreal dream with a dark underbelly, it’s too late. You are a prisoner of your own lifestyle, unable to escape.
For a great outlaw country expression of trying to escape that Golden State metropolis, see “L.A. freeway” by Guy Clark, who hung around Austin a lot when I lived and worked in the music clubs there during the Stevie Ray Vaughan era. Jerry Jeff Walker (who would also pop into our Austin music clubs back then) recorded the Guy Clark song HERE on his self-titled album before Clark released it himself.
And now back to the Eagles song. Here’s the last verse.
Last thing I remember, I was
Running for the door
I had to find the passage back
To the place I was before
“Relax,” said the night man
“We are programmed to receive
You can check out any time you like
But you can never leave”
Let me arbitrarily use that to segue to this fantastic live version of “Can’t Find My Way Home,” with Eric Clapton and Steve Winwood joining back up on stage, along with some next-generation stars like Derek Trucks, many years after they released the song on the Blind Faith album. At the 10-second mark, when Clapton taps the button with his foot, those of us who have been around a while go on alert for the signature sound of Clapton’s guitar (which comes at the 20-second mark) 😊
So if like Clapton and Winwood you can’t find your way home, if you just can’t shake that “warm smell of colitas” that has befuddled Eagles listeners for decades, just sit back and watch the best ever pop culture appropriation of “Hotel California” in this scene from “The Big Lebowkski”.
Works Cited
Hotel California, The Eagles
L.A. Freeway, Guy Clark
Voodoo Chile, Stevie Ray Vaughan
L.A. Freeway, Jerry Jeff Walker
Can’t Find My Way Home, Eric Clapton and Steve Winwood
Hotel California soundtrack scene in The Big Lebowski (dir. Coen Brothers)
Product Links (click image for link)
But my heart cried out for you, California,
Oh, California, I’m coming Home,
Oh, make me feel good rock n. roll band,
I’m your biggest fan,
California, I’m coming home.
Joni Mitchell, California, from the Blue Album.
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Exquisite! I am trying to escape LA right now and it feels like I won’t ever get out of here.
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Oh man, you need to Guy Clark song!
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Yes, it is most apropos!
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Reblogged this on Forced In and commented:
Musical accompaniment to an attempted escape from LA.
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Can’t Find My Way Back Home… I love that song and can relate. I admire you for traveling and seeing the world. After living in different places between the ages of 16-24…I wanted roots and one place. Not stuck but happy.
Great music!
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Good to hear, Max. To each his own drummer. For me, life is a process of discovery and discovery means movement. I’ve stayed put for years at a time, but the thought that I would stay put forever somewhere, for me, would mean the process of discovery is over. (Of course, this is just one point of view. I don’t recommend it for everyone. I don’t even recommend it for myself, it’s just who I am 🙂 )
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I totally get it! We have to do and to be what is true to us. I guess my childhood of moving around and parents divorcing really shaped me this way.
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I would love to have a place that I can just call home and live permanently in that place with occasional travel
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That sounds good too!
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Dream on!
It sounds more like being trapped in a time warp of the seventieth. Some of us have made it out or have never lived through that period of complete escapism (those growing up in the eastern block), have accepted there is no way to avoid the harsh winds of reality, no matter how pictures the pretence.
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I left the San Francisco Bay Area decades ago, but my heart remains in San Francisco. That’s OK.
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