Music
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Getting Off
Attorney Tyler Flood says he wins 80 percent of his clients' DWI trials, even if they were 100 percent drunk as a skunk.
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City of Coffee
Is Houston about to become America's coffee capital?
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Houston's Choice for Mayor
Black Guy, Rich White Guy, Lesbian or Hispanic Republican
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Looking for a Bull Market
Killen's Steakhouse in suburban Pearland is probably best during boom times.
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Burgers and Hash
Lola, a modern diner in the Heights is dishing up some top-notch Texas short-order cooking.
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BBQ Buffet
Korea Garden Grille offers a stellar selection of barbecue items in unlimited quantities — and new and interesting ways to eat them.
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Getting Off
Attorney Tyler Flood says he wins 80 percent of his clients' DWI trials, even if they were 100 percent drunk as a skunk.
-
Looking for a Bull Market
Killen's Steakhouse in suburban Pearland is probably best during boom times.
-
Burgers and Hash
Lola, a modern diner in the Heights is dishing up some top-notch Texas short-order cooking.
-
Down the Rabbit Hole
Lose yourself discovering Michael Bise's work at Moody Gallery.
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National Features >
City PagesYou don't need to read Sarah Palin's book to hear the ravings of a mad woman. By Matt SnydersMiami New TimesThe rise and fall of a chubby sex-cult leader. By Natalie O'NeillRiverfront TimesTom was a hot-tempered cross-dresser with a garage full of guns--and then he became Rachel. By Nicholas Phillips
Eagles, The Long Road Out of Eden
Published on November 20, 2007 at 2:37pm
Eagles Don Henley, Glenn Frey, Joe Walsh and Timothy B. Schmit may all love music, but they don't make it collectively unless there's a mammoth payday involved. Maybe that's why their seventh studio LP, released through a profit-maximizing deal with Wal-Mart, seems more inspired by commerce than art. The exceptions to this rule come from Henley, the act's most ornery member. Although the Iraq-themed title track feels secondhand — betcha he researched it by watching CNN in his den — the wannabe epic gets a boost from Henley's pissiness, as does the decidedly bitchy "Frail Grasp of the Big Picture." (Vomit-inducing white-funk catastrophe "Fast Company" is all about anger, too — mine.) In contrast, Walsh's two offerings seem like toss-offs, and Schmit's efforts constitute ultra-bland filler. And Frey? The tunes he croons, including "How Long" and "No More Cloudy Days," mainly stick to the heavily diluted, extremely tedious country-rock formula that's made these guys as rich as pashas. They're less songs than cashier's checks, which they'll be taking to the bank very soon.
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