The Eagles have been a long-standing favorite band of mine, and last year, we lost a true rock n’ roll revolutionary with Glenn Frey’s passing.
When the time came last Saturday at the Classic East festival, his son, Deacon, stepped in and swept me away.
Let me get right down to it: I wanna sleep with you in the desert night.
At a time when I feel music has become spoiled by superficial nonsense, you appeared like a white knight, flanked by your experienced elders, to save the day.
You knew the size of your father’s shoes when you agreed to sing with the band, and you honored him on stage- filling those shoes as if they were made for you too.
You embody the older rock stars I’ve grown to love, but you have something they do not. Years ahead of you. You are young.
I do not mean that you are “tender-footed” because it is actually quite the contrary.
You perform with an air of experience that you have to earn.
There is no faking it.
I felt a connection to you…a connection that is unattainable when I dream about musicians past. You are present. You are my Rick Springfield. My Mellencamp. You are my true rock heartthrob.
Watching you strum your guitar while crooning some of my favorite lyrics was a religious experience. I often feel I was born in the wrong decade; you made me feel at home… incredibly present in the moment.
I get this feeling I may know you, as a lover and a friend- at least I’d like to.
Gabrielle Levy, 25