There’s gonna be a heartache tonight, I know

Music trivia question: Who was in the original lineup of The Eagles?

Answer: Glenn Frey, Don Henley, Randy Meisner, Bernie Leadon…and John David Souther?

Truth be told, singer-songwriter-guitarist JD Souther was a member of the group for only about 48 hours. Manager David Geffen lobbied for Souther to be an official member, but the rest of the band, and actually Souther himself, weren’t too keen on the idea.

“Geffen wanted me in the band,” said Souther decades later. “We actually rehearsed a set and played it for him one afternoon at The Troubadour. I remember looking down the stage thinking, ‘Man, this is an awful lot of singers and acoustic guitar players all in the same band.’ I felt, ‘I’m not necessary here.’ And I don’t really like being told what to do in any sense anyway.”

The other four had been a working unit for a spell, playing behind Linda Ronstadt at a few shows, and they were hesitant to turn their four-piece into a five-piece by adding Souther. Frey and Souther had been friends and collaborators in a duo in 1969-1970, but that hadn’t ended well. Souther would remain a co-songwriting partner with Frey and Henley over the years, including three #1 hits, but they all agreed he wouldn’t be a full-fledged Eagle.

“Truthfully, the band was exceptional just as it was,” said Souther. “I was clearly the fifth wheel. I wasn’t a band creature. My report cards from school always said, ‘Does not work well with others.’ I was much happier to stay home and write songs and be with Linda, who I was dating at the time.

“There was definitely a period of time later on when people would ask me, ‘Doesn’t it piss you off that the Eagles had these big hits with your songs?’ I would always respond, ‘Would you like to see the royalty checks?'”

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John David “JD” Souther died last week at age 78. There has been no official cause of death issued yet.

He had been preparing to go on tour this week with his friend, singer-songwriter Karla Bonoff, when he fell ill. Said Bonoff, “We had learned each other’s songs and were going to be on stage together for an amazing evening. I guess it was not meant to be…but I am incredibly grateful for the time we spent recently reconnecting, laughing and reminiscing. He was one of the best songwriters on the planet and influenced so much of my writing. Fly free, my friend.”

Bonoff and Souther in 1977

Souther has been one of those important yet shadowy figures in the California music industry, who added a great deal but never really cared much about being in the limelight. In addition to his fruitful relationship with The Eagles, Souther wrote or co-wrote hit singles for Ronstadt and James Taylor, and also reached the charts as a solo artist with the #7 hit “You’re Only Lonely” in 1979. He has added vocals and guitar parts to many dozens of tracks by artists as diverse as Warren Zevon, Crosby, Stills & Nash, Dixie Chicks, Burt Bacharach, Roy Orbison, George Strait, Brian Wilson and Trisha Yearwood.

Born in Detroit and raised in Amarillo, Texas, Souther started playing jazz drums, influenced by his parents’ love of Big Band music, but soon switched to guitar and had some regional success playing with a country band called The Cinders in the mid-’60s. When he relocated to Los Angeles in 1968 at age 22, he met Frey, who had more of a rock/R&B background, and they fed off each other’s influences, jamming and trying to write songs.

They shared a small apartment and eventually formed a duo called “Longbranch/Pennywhistle,” cutting one album on a small label. It went nowhere, but within the 10 tracks that comprise the self-titled LP (out of print for decades but remixed and re-released in 2018) you’ll find the country-rock building blocks upon which successive generations of singers and songwriters have drawn inspiration. Most notable were Frey’s ballad “Rebecca” and Souther’s intriguing songs “Mister, Mister” and “Kite Woman.”

Souther and Frey as pictured on the “Longbranch/Pennywhistle” LP in 1969

In a 2013 interview, Souther downplayed the opinion that Longbranch/Pennywhistle was a groundbreaking country-rock sound. “I keep being referred to as an architect of something,” he said, chuckling. “I assure you, at the time, we didn’t think we were designing anything. We were just trying to make a living by writing songs. The album has a certain charm to it, although it still sounds to me like an 8-track record from guys who didn’t write that well working with first-time producers.”

While Frey became the de facto leader of The Eagles and developed a songwriting partnership with Henley, Souther chose instead to pursue a modest solo recording career, more content to write songs that he would record himself or pass along to others. His 1972 self-titled debut showed his country-inflected songwriting prowess (“How Long,” “The Fast One,” “Some People Call It Music”), and in my view, some of these tunes sound more convincing than some of the lesser tracks that filled out The Eagles’ debut LP that same year.

He remained on good terms with Frey and Henley, co-writing “Doolin’ Dalton,” the opening track on The Eagles’ “Desperado” cowboy concept album in 1973. He regularly hung out with the group as part of their posse; indeed, if you look at the photo on the back cover of “Desperado,” you’ll see Souther posing among the other Eagles as one of the captured “Doolin’-Dalton” gang.

A year later, Souther also helped Frey and Henley complete three tracks for their third LP, “On the Border” — “You Never Cry Like a Lover,” “James Dean” and the tune that became their first #1 hit, “The Best Of My Love.”

Ronstadt and Souther on stage in 1976

Meanwhile, Souther’s relationship with Ronstadt changed from boyfriend-girlfriend to producer-artist as he manned the boards for her third album, “Don’t Cry Now,” which included two of his songs, the languid “I Can Almost See It” and the more uptempo “The Fast One.” The former paramours went on to enjoy a close friendship and professional relationship that lasted for decades, as Ronstadt sang many of his tunes on her top-selling albums throughout the ’70s: “Faithless Love,” “Prisoner in Disguise,” “Silver Blue,” “Simple Man, Simple Dream” and “White Rhythm & Blues.” While none of these were hit singles, most were regulars in her concert set list and popular with her audiences.

For his part, Geffen remained a fan of Souther, to the point that he championed him to be one third of a new trio, The Souther-Hillman-Furay Band, teaming him up with ex-Byrd Chris Hillman and ex-Poco leader Richie Furay for two albums in the 1974-75 period. Hopes were high they would become the next Crosby, Stills and Nash, but it wasn’t to be.

Said Hillman last week, “Today I lost my friend, John David. We were close, and I count him as a great blessing in my life. He possessed a great sense of humor, and was one of the most intelligent people that ever crossed my path. His voice, and the songs he wrote, will forever be in my heart.”

Souther returned to his solo career and released the widely praised LP “Black Rose,” which featured a who’s who of LA musicians in support of some of his best work (“Faithless Love,” “Baby Come Home” and the title tune).

Legendary producer Peter Asher, who worked with Ronstadt and several other artists including Souther on the “Black Rose” album, reflected on Souther’s career in the wake of his passing. “JD was a sublimely imaginative composer and lyricist. He was musically sophisticated and poetically inspired. I see his work as a modern extension of the Great American Songbook, and I was delighted when I was invited to induct him into the Songwriters’ Hall of Fame, a well-deserved honor. In my view, ‘Faithless Love’ alone qualifies him for the distinction. It deserves an award all to itself.”

Souther (third from left) with The Eagles at a 1980 concert

Souther’s greatest commercial success came in the 1976-1981 period, when two of his Eagles co-writes — “New Kid in Town” and “Heartache Tonight” — both reached #1 on US charts. Personally, I don’t care much for either of those simplistic tracks, but in between those two monster hits came his own Top 10 single, the gorgeous, poignant “You’re Only Lonely.” Then, in 1981, he co-wrote and co-sang the heartbreaking “Her Town Too,” a #11 hit for James Taylor.

After Souther’s 1984 album “Home by Dawn” stiffed badly on the charts (the LP was “that unfortunate curiosity that’s later called a ‘critical success,’” he said in an interview in 1990, “meaning nobody bought it”), he took a break from recording, discouraged in part by the music industry’s growing reliance on MTV. “I wasn’t a huge fan of music videos because I thought they encouraged an excess of production as opposed to a real focus on the heart of the music,” he said in 2012.

Still, he continued songwriting, helping Henley write “The Heart of the Matter,” one of his big solo singles from his “The End of the Innocence” LP in 1989.

In the ’90s, he stuck his toe in the waters of acting, appearing in the 1990 film “Postcards From the Edge” and as a recurring character in the third season of the award-winning TV drama “thirtysomething.” Other acting roles included a stint as a grizzled country music fixture in the 2012 TV drama “Nashville.”

Souther released three more albums since 2000, and although they were largely ignored, all of them include tracks worthy of your attention. The Spotify playlist below includes several fine tunes from 2008’s “If the World Was You” and 2015’s “Tenderness,” which both lean toward jazzier arrangements, and 2011’s “Natural History,” on which he records his own renditions of his Eagles hits and other earlier successes.

The timeless nature of Souther’s songs is best exemplified by his 1972 song “How Long,” which appeared on his debut LP. When The Eagles reunited and assembled their ambitious double LP “Long Road Out of Eden” in 2007, “How Long” was not only included but featured as one of the two singles they released from it. It arguably came closest to recapturing the group’s classic blend of country and rock, reached #23 on the country chart and won a Grammy for Best Country Performance by a Duo or Group.

Don Henley and J. D. Souther
Souther acknowledging Henley’s appreciation in 2024

This past January, when The Eagles performed in Los Angeles, Souther came on stage for several numbers including “How Long.” Henley introduced him as “an important part of the tight-knit community of songwriters and singers we turned to when we would get stuck on a song or we’d try to start some new material.”

R.I.P. to you, J.D. Your legacy is intact.

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This playlist includes what I consider JD Souther’s best material, presented in chronological order of the release of the albums they came from (his own as well as those by other artists).

Baby, it’s time to close that door

If you’re an ardent fan of blues music, you’re well aware of John Mayall. If you like the blues but don’t know much about its best practitioners, it’s important for you to know more about the pivotal role Mayall played in keeping the genre alive and popular through the many decades of his long career.

Mayall, who died this week at the ripe old age of 90, did nearly as much for the proliferation of blues music as did the early pioneers who first wrote and played the blues back in the ’20s, ’30s and ’40s in the rural American South.

He had a well-earned reputation as a mentor and talent spotter of some of the more iconic names in British rock. Between 1965 and 2019, nearly a hundred different musicians have recorded with Mayall on more than 70 albums he released as a solo artist or under the name of his erstwhile band brand, The Bluesbreakers. Alumni include guitarist luminaries like Eric Clapton, Mick Taylor, Peter Green, Harvey Mandel, Rick Vito and Coco Montoya; drummers Mick Fleetwood, Aynsley Dunbar and Jon Hiseman; bassists John McVie, Jack Bruce, Larry Taylor and Andy Fraser; and sax greats Ernie Watts and James Holloway.

My introduction to Mayall came in 1969 when a friend turned me on to “John Mayall’s Bluesbreakers With Eric Clapton,” a 1966 album of extraordinary blues tracks brimming with instrumental and vocal prowess from Clapton and Mayall. At 14, I had already become a huge fan of Clapton through his incendiary work with Cream, but here was where I marveled at the talent he showed in his formative years as both a soloist and accompanist to Mayall on original songs (“Little Girl,” “Double Crossing Time,” “Have You Heard”) and classic covers (“All Your Love,” “Hideaway,” “Ramblin On My Mind”).

Mayall was a Brit from the Manchester area who was inspired by the Chicago and Mississippi blues records his father collected in the 1950s, rapidly becoming obsessed with the structure, emotion and appeal of blues music. Mayall developed a distinctive songwriting style that was both heavily indebted to an American art form and somehow still uniquely British. Mayall played piano, harmonica and guitar, and sang the blues with uncanny authenticity, sparking widespread interest in the blues among British musicians and listeners. They in turn triggered a ’60s blues revival in the US, as listeners who had been unfamiliar with the likes of homegrown blues talents like Freddie King, Otis Rush and Robert Johnson were snatching up albums by British blues-rock bands like the early Rolling Stones, The Animals and The Yardbirds.

Rather than limiting himself to traditional blues themes like unfaithful women or bad luck, Mayall distinguished himself by writing about the world around him. On “Nature’s Disappearing,” from 1970, he tackled pollution; on “Plan Your Revolution,” another track from that year, he sang about constructive political and social change. More recently, on “World Gone Crazy,” he explored the relationship between religious conflict and war. “Blues musicians ought to be singing songs about their own lives,” he said in 2014. “A lot of borrowing goes on in the blues, but it’s not just a matter of copying other people. You’ve got to think about representing your own life in the music. Blues has always been about that raw honesty with which it expresses our experiences in life, something which all comes together not only in the lyrics but the music as well.”

Though Mayall never approached the fame of some of his illustrious alumni — he was still performing in his late 80s, pounding out his version of Chicago blues — he wasn’t shy about expressing his disappointment about being eclipsed by his former mates. “I’ve never had a hit record, I never won a Grammy Award, and Rolling Stone has never done a piece about me,” he said in 2010. “I’m basically still an underground performer to most of the public. But I guess it’s just a part of my history. It really sums up the period of my life when I was in London. There was such a swift turnover of musicians at the time. All of them were just young guys who were just trying to find their feet, and I was able to help them along.”

Following Clapton’s departure in 1966, Peter Green became the focus for the next Bluesbreakers LP, “A Hard Road,” but he too left to form Fleetwood Mac, and Mick Taylor assumed guitar duties for “Crusade.” But by 1968, Mayall found himself drawn to America, specifically Los Angeles, where he bought a house in Laurel Canyon and ended up living in the area for the rest of his life. He cast aside the Bluebreakers moniker for a spell, instead releasing solo efforts like “Blues From Laurel Canyon” and the popular live LP “The Turning Point,” which went gold and put Mayall in the Top 40 of the US albums chart with its compelling harmonica workout, “Room to Move.”

Mayall continued to experiment, recording his next album, 1970’s “USA Union,” with a new drummer-less band that included ex-Mothers Of Invention violinist Don “Sugarcane” Harris, which became his highest-charting album in America, reaching number 22 in the Billboard 200. For his follow-up, a sprawling 1971 double LP called “Back to the Roots,” he surprised fans by reuniting with Clapton and Taylor; it was the first in a series of line-up changes during his career in America, which gave Mayall an air of unpredictability. “My record label – Polydor at the time – asked me for new albums every few months, it seemed,” he explained in his autobiography. “To achieve this, I needed to keep the music fresh, and that meant rebuilding my line-up from time to time.”

Over the next four decades, Mayall continued to explore his love for the blues in a variety of different contexts. After taking a funkier direction in the late 1970s, he reverted back to blues rock in the 1980s, then revived the Bluesbreakers with the vital 1988 LP “Chicago Line.” In the ’90s, he even reunited with old friends like blues virtuoso John Lee Hooker on the album “Padlock on the Blues,” released just a year before Hooker’s death.

Fleetwood, one of many British musicians who owe a musical debt to Mayall, recalled his early encounters with him. “When you went around to John Mayall’s house, it was a shrine to the blues,” Fleetwood said. “He’d sit you down, almost like a school teacher, and he’d bring out this vinyl.” In the wake of Mayall’s death this week, Fleetwood added, “He created a platform, a stage, for musicians — me being one of them — that mustn’t be forgotten. John’s legacy is that he has been true to his schooling as a blues player. He has never compromised that, and he has never pretended to be anything other than that. He has stuck to his guns, and he has placed his love of the blues above anything else.”

It seems unfair that Mayall isn’t in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, and almost cruel that his long-overdue induction in the Musical Influences category isn’t coming until three months after his death when he’ll be so honored in October.

It was a difficult task, but I cobbled together a playlist of some of Mayall’s finest moments under the Bluesbreakers tent and on his own. He has so much great material in his catalog that I could’ve easily doubled the length of this list and not suffered any in quality.

R.I.P., Mr. Mayall. Do yourself a favor, dear readers, and dive into the sturdy blues recordings of this unquestioned titan of British blues.

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