All alone at the end of the evening

September 1977. The Eagles were on top of the world, with their multi-platinum #1 album “Hotel California,” a string of Top Five singles, and sold-out concert venues wherever they appeared. But the group’s bassist/singer didn’t really want to be there anymore and, as it turned out, the rest of the group didn’t seem to want him around anymore either.

The Eagles in 1977: Joe Walsh, Randy Meisner, Don Henley, Glenn Frey, Don Felder

“I was always kind of shy,” said Randy Meisner, a founding member of The Eagles back in 1971, “so I didn’t like being in the spotlight. It made me uncomfortable.” That hadn’t been a problem when he was merely playing bass and adding harmonies to group vocals, but then “Take It to the Limit,” his song from the band’s 1975 LP “One Of These Nights,” became a Top Five hit and a highly anticipated part of their concert setlist, often as an encore.

Gifted with a high tenor voice, Meisner sometimes found himself dreading singing the song because it required him to hit several very high notes, and he wasn’t always confident of his ability to hit them cleanly. One night in June 1977, backstage in Knoxville, the band had already played three encores, but the crowd was screaming for more, and Glenn Frey thought they should do Meisner’s song as the final selection. Meisner refused.

Frey tried to reassure him: “It’ll be okay, you can sing it. Let’s go back out and do it.” Meisner was adamant. “No man, I’m not gonna sing the fucking song.”

Frey was livid. “You pussy!” he screamed, inches from his face. Meisner took a swing at him, and although security personnel quickly broke up the fight, the damage was done.

As Don Henley put it, “He was a hypersensitive guy, and at that point, there was always something wrong for him. ‘We’re touring too much. I’ve got to go home to my wife. I can’t take this life on the road.’ When he was feeling good and everything was right with the world, he was a great guy and fun to hang out with, and of course, he was a fine singer. But he would descend into this dark place. It got to be too much.”

The tour continued for another dozen dates, but then, as Meisner remembered, “When the tour ended, I left the band. Those last days on the road were the worst.  Nobody was talking to me, or would hang out after the shows, or do anything with me.  I was made an outcast of the band I’d helped start.”

Meisner, who died last week of chronic obstructive pulmonary disease at age 77, said he was glad to have been a part of The Eagles’ story, but he had grown tired and frustrated that “our tight little family had turned into a cold business.”

From many accounts, Frey and Henley, as the band’s chief songwriters and lead singers, had evolved into insufferable control freaks who insisted on calling all the shots.  Making matters worse, they were overly competitive with each other and often communicated only through intermediaries.  It’s not for nothing that the group was sometimes derisively referred to as The Egos.

“There was so much discontent over everything,” Meisner said, “from salaries to hotel accommodations to setlists.  It got real difficult.  The fact that we were all doing a lot of coke and drinking too much didn’t help.  Don would get real bossy, and others would sometimes just laugh it off, but I couldn’t.  I was there from the beginning and didn’t appreciate the star trip he was on.”

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The “beginning” Meisner referred to was in 1971, when guitarist Frey and drummer Henley were first jamming together and ended up becoming part of Linda Ronstadt’s back-up band during her initial modest success at The Troubadour and other L.A. clubs.  Frey’s R&B/rock background growing up in Detroit, and Henley’s country roots coming out of small-town Texas, provided an interesting contrast, and they were eager to form their own band.

Meisner in the early 1960s with family members

Meisner’s own beginning goes back to a farm in Nebraska, where his parents were sharecroppers, and he fell in love with music through TV (Elvis Presley on “Ed Sullivan”) and a grandfather who played the violin.  “Playing guitar and bass was the only thing I knew how to do,” said Meisner in Marc Eliot’s 1998 book “To the Limit: The Untold Story of The Eagles.”  A high-school dropout who never attended college, Meisner knew that “music was the only thing for me.  I taught myself scales, and chords, and put together a few bands and played at local dances.”

At a talent contest in Denver in 1964, he was invited to sit in on bass and vocals with The Soul Survivors, which turned into a bigger offer to tour with them, opening for an LA-based band called The Back Porch Majority.  “We headed for the West Coast, where we all nearly starved to death.  But we landed a contract with Loma Records, a subsidiary of Atlantic, and at their offices, I met and became friendly with Buffalo Springfield — Richie Furay and Steve Stills, mostly.”

The Soul Survivors struggled, bouncing back and forth between Colorado and California, eventually going through personnel changes and renaming themselves (aptly) The Poor.  Meisner and The Poor eked out a meager living on the fringes of the L.A. scene until 1968, when Meisner was asked to replace Jim Messina in Buffalo Springfield.  He passed the audition, but before a single gig occurred, the band dissolved, with Messina and Furay combining forces with pedal steel guitarist Rusty Young in a new band they called Poco.  Meisner, along with drummer George Grantham, were brought in to round out the group.

The country rock scene was in its formative stages, with The Byrds’ “Sweetheart of the Rodeo” and Bob Dylan’s recent records leading the way. Poco relished the idea of “using country instruments and flavorings in a rock band,” as Messina once put it, and the group’s debut performance at The Troubadour in November 1968 was widely praised and led to a contract with Epic Records. Their debut LP was entitled “Pickin’ Up the Pieces,” which referred to picking up the pieces of Buffalo Springfield and starting anew.

Debut album cover with Meisner replaced by dog

But in an incident that presaged Meisner’s difficulties with Frey and Henley in The Eagles, Meisner found himself shut out from mixing sessions for the album, as Furay and Messina insisted on handling that responsibility themselves. Poco was their baby, and no matter how talented a bass player and backup singer Meisner was, they felt he was just a hired hand. “I said I wanted to be involved,” he recalled. “I said, ‘Hey, I’m a musician, and I played on it, too.’ They said, “No, no, we never allow anyone in when we’re mixing.’ So I said, ‘If that’s the way it is, then I don’t feel like being part of the band.’ They said okay, and that was that. I was stubborn, I guess, but felt I had the right to be there.”

On the album, released in 1969, you can hear Meisner’s bass parts and high vocals on several tracks, but his name was nowhere to be found on the credits, and they even replaced him on the cover drawing with an illustration of a dog. “I’d sung lead on a couple songs, but they took my voice off,” he noted. “I didn’t talk to those guys for nearly twenty years after that,” he said.

Meisner was replaced in Poco by another bass-playing high-tenor singer named Timothy B. Schmit. Ironically, the same personnel change would happen eight years later when Meisner left The Eagles.

Meisner (far right) with Rick Nelson’s Stone Canyon Band

Dejected and disillusioned, Meisner considered packing it in and returning to Colorado, but he was approached by none other than Rick Nelson, the former teen idol from “Ozzie and Harriet” TV fame, who had attended Poco’s Troubadour show and was forming what became the Stone Canyon Band. Meisner enthusiastically signed on and became part of the touring band for the next two years, contributing significantly to a couple of Nelson’s LPs, especially 1971’s “Rudy the Fifth.”

Meanwhile, Frey and Henley had pulled their own band together, but gigs were sporadic and the bassist quit, so they recruited Meisner, who they’d seen multiple times at The Troubadour and was, at that point, the closest of any of them to a proven rock star. The final piece of the puzzle fell into place when they signed up veteran country rocker Bernie Leadon, a multi-instrumentalist who had been with Gram Parsons in The Flying Burrito Brothers.

They chose Eagles as their name because they liked the flight imagery, the mythological connotation and the fact they were from all over America (Michigan, Texas, Nebraska and Florida). Their debut LP, recorded in England under the tutelage of veteran producer Glyn Johns, included two Top Ten hits (“Take It Easy” and “Witchy Woman”) and Meisner’s first three attempts at lead vocals — “Most of Us Are Sad,” “Take the Devil” and “Tryin’,” the latter two also written by him.

The four original Eagles in 1972: Leadon, Henley, Meisner, Frey

Songwriter J.D. Souther, a close friend of The Eagles in the early days and pretty much ever since, summarized the founding members’ contributions. “When they came together, they were Glenn’s band. He brought that R&B sensibility and was also a natural country singer. We used to call Don the “secret weapon,” sitting back there behind all those drums with that insanely beautiful voice. Bernie was probably the most talented musician of all of them. He could play anything — guitar, banjo, mandolin, pedal steel.

As for Meisner, Souther said, “Randy was a very important part as well. It would never have been the same band without him. His singing on the high end was unlike any other sound, and he helped define a style of songwriter-rooted bass playing. He always managed to make a nice melody under what the others were doing.”

While The Eagles’ first effort met with commercial success, their follow-up, the “cowboy outlaw” concept project called “Desperado,” did not, at least not until years later. Meisner’s contributions included “Certain Kind of Fool” and the marvelous ballad co-written with Henley, “Saturday Night.”

The band beefed up its sound and its rock-band credentials by adding guitarist Don Felder in 1974 for their third LP, “On the Border,” where Meisner’s only track was the lackluster “Is It True?” (although he sang lead on “Midnight Flyer”). The group may have been eager to be recognized as a rock band, but their first #1 single turned out to be “The Best of My Love,” a countryish original that sounded more like the material on their first album.

The evolution from country to rock continued with “One Of These Nights,” which served to frustrate Leadon’s preference for country. Despite the new album (and single) hitting #1 and establishing The Eagles as an arena-filling entity, Leadon had had enough. In the final transition from country outfit to rock band, The Eagles hired gunslinging guitar hero Joe Walsh to replace Leadon.

Meisner benefitted financially from the royalties afforded by “Take It to the Limit”‘s chart success, but as The Eagles became internationally famous, he found himself partying too much and no longer enjoying his role in the juggernaut. He wrote “Try and Love Again,” viewed by many critics as the sleeper gem on the multi-platinum “Hotel California” LP, but he was unhappy with the changing dynamics in the band’s inner workings.

Said manager Irving Azoff in Eliot’s book, “In truth, Randy had become a major pain in the ass, and I think he knew it. He was probably looking for a way to leave, and that night in Knoxville, he found it.”

After his departure from The Eagles, Meisner went on to release a half-hearted solo album (“Randy Meisner”) in 1978 that included only one original song. By 1980, he had six new tunes written for his next LP, “One More Song,” including a duet with Kim Carnes (“Deep Inside My Heart”) and his only Top 20 hit, “Hearts on Fire.” He toured with several different band lineups during the 1980s, one that included Rick Roberts of Firefall.

The seven Eagles inducted in 1998: Leadon, Walsh, Henley, Schmit, Felder, Frey, Meisner

Meisner said he was disappointed not to be asked to participate in The Eagles 1994 “Hell Freezes Over” LP and tour, but he was pleased to be invited when the band was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 1998. That evening, all seven Eagles — Frey, Henley, Meisner, Leadon, Felder, Walsh and Schmit — performed together for their one and only time, doing “Take It Easy” and “Hotel California.” Said Meisner about it: “I’d just like to say I’m honored to be here tonight. It’s just great playing with the guys again.”

Meisner developed health issues in the 2000s that brought on an early retirement from performing and recording. Last week, the end came. Felder, who had also left The Eagles under acrimonious circumstances, had this to say about his former bandmate: “Randy was one of the nicest, sweetest, most talented, and funniest guys I’ve ever known. It breaks my heart to hear of his passing. His voice stirred millions of souls, especially every time he sang ‘Take It To The Limit.’ The crowd would explode with cheers and applause. We had some wild and wicked fun memories together, brother. God bless you, Randy, for bringing so many people joy and happiness.”

I, for one, hope he can finally Rest In Peace.

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The Spotify playlist I’ve assembled includes performances and/or songs Meisner contributed to Poco and Rick Nelson’s Stone Canyon Band; songs he wrote and/or on which he sang lead vocals with The Eagles, and a handful of songs from his solo albums.

Your golden sun will shine for me

In 1949, a gifted singer from Queens who was working under the stage name Joe Bari was invited to perform as a warm-up act for comedian Bob Hope. Before the curtain went up, Hope asked the young man his real name. “Anthony Dominick Benedetto,” he replied, to which Hope responded, “Then let’s call you Tony Bennett. And may I offer you some advice? Always take the stage with a smile.”

Five, six, even seven decades later, this man was still smiling whenever he performed or recorded the timeless songs he cherished from the Great American Songbook, and it helped him attract a new generation of fans who seemed to embrace him as enthusiastically as the audiences in the ’50s and ’60s had.

Bennett, perhaps the last of the original group of song stylists from that bygone era of popular music, died last week at age 96. His expressive voice came wafting out of the speakers of my father’s hifi in the early ’60s right next to Frank Sinatra and Nat King Cole, and, at the age of seven or eight, I came to appreciate the songs he sang and, particularly, the way he sang them — with rare gusto and extraordinary control.

Because this blog focuses on rock music of the ’50s through the ’80s, you might think Bennett isn’t the sort of artist to whom I would pay tribute. Bennett (like Sinatra) didn’t care for rock music when it arrived and didn’t mince words about it. But he was a devotee of swing and Big Band, two exhilarating genres that helped give birth to rock and roll, and I’ve never been one to shy away from paying respect to rock’s early influences.

In an appreciation published in The New York Times, Jon Pareles succinctly captured Bennett’s approach: “He wasn’t an old-fashioned crooner; his sense of swing was just as strong. He understood that pure virtuosity can keep listeners at a distance. He soon revealed a grain in his voice that made it earthy and approachable, downplaying his precision. Very often, there was a jovial savvy in his phrasing; he’d punch out a note ahead of the beat, as if he couldn’t wait to sing it.”

That’s what has appealed to me and, apparently, to dozens of other popular singers as well, who lined up for the chance to sing duets with Bennett on a half-dozen albums he recorded between 2001 and 2021. Ray Charles, Paul McCartney, B.B. King, Bonnie Raitt, Billy Joel, k.d. lang, Barbra Streisand and others added their vocals to tracks on Bennett’s releases of that period. Improbably, his 2006 LP “Duets: An American Classic,” released to commemorate his 80th birthday, reached the Top Five on the US album chart and won a Grammy for Best Traditional Pop Vocal Album. It featured 20 collaborations with not only modern-day crooners like Diana Krall and Michael Bublé but bonafide rock/R&B singers such as Bono, Elton John, Stevie Wonder and Sting.

He topped that effort with “Duets II” in 2011, which reached #1 and included pairings with an even broader range of singers, from Queen Latifah to Willie Nelson, from Amy Winehouse to John Mayer. Perhaps Bennett’s most impressive achievement came at age 88 with 2014’s “Cheek to Cheek,” another chart-topper, this time exclusively with Lady Gaga. He became the oldest artist to score a #1 album.

How did this happen? In the 1970s, it appeared Bennett’s career was on an inexorable downslide, viewed by many as unhip and passé. His misguided attempts at singing Beatles songs and other contemporary fare did poorly on the charts and were ridiculed by critics. Even though critics praised his partnership with noted jazz pianist Bill Evans on some challenging material in the mid-’70s, both LPs failed to chart at all. By 1980, struggling with divorce and cocaine addiction, Bennett’s professional and personal life were in crisis.

Enter son Danny Bennett. He too had taken a stab at a career in music, but he quickly concluded that his head for business and finance would not only serve him better but would also make him a savvy manager to help right his father’s foundering ship. The younger Bennett got his father’s expenses and IRS debts under control, moved him back to New York City, and began booking him in colleges and small theaters to get him away from the dreaded “Vegas” image. He also aided in forging a reunion between Bennett and his longtime pianist and musical director Ralph Sharon, and got his father re-signed to Columbia Records in 1986.

Danny Bennett lobbied hard on his dad’s behalf, getting him booked on late night TV shows like David Letterman and Conan O’Brien, which appealed to younger audiences. These appearances led, famously, to a starring spot on the “MTV Unplugged” series in 1994, and the accompanying album actually won Album of the Year, one of the most prestigious Grammy awards. Bennett recalled years later, “It began to dawn on me that young people had never heard the songs of Cole Porter, Gershwin, Johnny Mercer —they were like, ‘Who wrote that?’ To them, it was different, and they loved that. If you’re different, you stand out.”

Younger artists like Linda Ronstadt and Carly Simon had sparked a revival of the Great American Songbook with tenderly rendered albums in the ’80s, but Bennett was the real deal. Just as important was his relentlessly joyous stage presence. He always, always, seemed to be having such a great time, and audiences respected his cool nonchalance and refusal to give in to newer styles and fads. He was “OG” before that was a thing.

Artists who have had storied careers inevitably have what is considered their “signature song,” one tune for which they’re best known and identified, and they sometimes come along unexpectedly. For Bennett, this happened in late 1961, when his pianist Ralph Sharon suggested he try an appealing song he’d come across. It was by an unknown songwriting team from San Francisco who had relocated to New York with big dreams but grew homesick for their West Coast home town. Bennett recorded “I Left My Heart in San Francisco” in one take, and it was placed on the B-side of a single that was mostly ignored…but disc jockeys took notice and began playing the B-side instead. As luck would have it, Bennett sang the song on the debut show of “The Tonight Show Starring Johnny Carson” in 1962, and it became a best-selling hit and the Record of the Year Grammy winner.

Sinatra, who had been Bennett’s role model in his early days, had this to say in 1965: “For my money, Tony Bennett is the best singer in the business. He excites me when I watch him. He moves me. He’s the singer who gets across what the composer has in mind, and probably a little more.”

Country singer Tim McGraw, who sang a Hank Williams song with Bennett on the “Duets” LP, said, “I know the words to ‘Cold, Cold Heart’ by heart, but I was shaking so bad standing three feet from him that I had to hold on to the lyric sheet to try to steady myself. He was such a gentleman and such a presence. It was the thrill of a lifetime for me.”

There’s no better evidence of what an icon Bennett became in his 70s and 80s than the fact that actor Alec Baldwin did a spot-on parody of Bennett’s nonstop optimism in several appearances on “Saturday Night Live,” once with Bennett standing right there next to him.

A side of Bennett not as well known was his belief in and quiet participation in the civil rights movement of the 1960s. He had been a witness to the way black entertainers like Duke Ellington and Nat King Cole were treated in many places at that time, “and it enraged me,” he said. “I’d never been politically inclined, but these things went beyond politics. Nate and Duke were geniuses, brilliant human beings who gave the world some of the most beautiful music we’ve ever heard, and yet they were treated like second-class citizens.”

Bennett was also a talented painter, whose work fetched impressive sums and kept him busy crerating when he wasn’t on tour or in the recording studio. What did he paint? “My friend Bill Evans told me, ‘Just think truth and beauty. Forget about everything else.’ I took that advice to heart in song and in art, and it has served me well. I’ve seen both go out of style but they always come back in vogue again.”

Lady Gaga recalled how Bennett offered her some invaluable advice of his own. In 2014, she admitted to Parade Magazine that she had felt like giving up on music because some people in her inner circle had become “irrational” with regard to money and what they expected from her. “I was so sad. I couldn’t sleep. I felt dead. But then I spent a lot of time with Tony, and he wanted nothing but my friendship and my voice,” she said. “Tony said to me, ‘I’ve never once in my career not wanted to do this. Not once.’ It stung at first, and it made me defensive. But his words renewed my purpose. I told Tony many times since that day that he saved my life.”

R.I.P., Tony. We’ve all shed a tear at your passing, but the whole world smiles with you.

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The Spotify playlist below includes 15 songs from Bennett’s early years of success, but I thought it instructive to focus more heavily on the many duets he cut in the later, even more impressive chapter of his life.