You’re not going to find that track on a Crosby, Stills & Nash record or Beach Boys record. Wasted Time Critics, fans, and the band themselves are in general agreement that 1976’s Hotel California represents the peak of The Eagles’ illustrious career. We did a big Philly-type production with strings - definitely not country-rock. He could stand out there all alone and just wail. I sent for some sheet music so I could learn some of those songs, and I started creating my own musical ideas with that Philly influence. As Frey wrote in the liner notes to The Very Best Of The Eagles, “I loved all the records coming out of Philadelphia at that time.
Perhaps the most left-field departure of them all was “Wasted Time,” a song where co-writers Glenn Frey and Don Henley dared to display their blue-eyed soul. The album found room for the sinewy mid-tempo groove of the title track, the crunching rock of “Victim Of Love” and “Life In The Fast Lane,” and the epic sweep of “The Last Resort.” You wasted my time Lyrics by Saint Drew from the customalbum6974883 album - including song video, artist biography, translations and more: You told me. But the addition of Joe Walsh on guitar allowed the band to spread its wings, so to speak, on Hotel California. Early hits like “Take It Easy,” “Tequila Sunrise” and “The Best Of My Love” certainly fit the bill. Wasted Time Lyrics Verse 1 Well, baby, there you stand With your little head down in your hand Oh, my God, you can't believe It's happening again Your baby's gone, and you're all alone And it. But now youve gone and left me oh what will I do Oh why did you leave me for somebody new Oh I wasted my tears when I cried over you.
The world belonged to the young.Up to that point in their career, it would have been fair to lump the band within the genre of country-tinged soft rock. “There’s a Star-MAN waiting in the sky”, the same octave leap as Judy Garland’s “Some-WHERE over the rainbow”, the top note in both songs a voice- and heart-breaker. BBC’s Top of the Pops was where I first heard him, hugging his blue guitar, sharing the microphone with another handsome singer, two male heads tense with music, arms around each other, shouting their song through each other’s spittle. YOU ONLY WANT ME WHEN YOURE WASTED 3am youre blowin up my phone slurring your words asking if Im alone u wanna come over and. The orange hair, the sparkling costume, the boyish physique, the girlish smile – a bizarre imaginative companion for a Cheshire schoolboy. I remember a bust of Beethoven on my piano which wobbled next to my underused metronome, but on the purple bedroom walls were affixed posters of my heroes and none more prominent than Bowie.
But upstairs was my record player and the music I really loved. A passage scrambled? Oh well, that’ll do for today. D ownstairs was the piano, where I practised (as little as I could get away with in those early teenage years) my Chopin, my Mozart, my Liszt.
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