What a buncha wild-ass freaks—Jesse the Devil (also playing out solo as Boots Electric when he leaves his Eagles back in the nest) and his unpredictable roster of gunslingers making rock into “rawk” or “rok” or “RAOWK!!!” with songs sprouting from the hairiest extremities of Link Wray, Motorhead and the New York Dolls. The high desert delivers music that’s poisonous and usually too hot to touch, and so Eagles is one of those bands that just sounds like they should be a band—as opposed to all those groups that make you shrink and cringe and wonder why please why—and preferably be a band in a bar like Alex’s, where anything that isn’t black is red, or maybe that’s just the Johnnie Walker. Tonight destiny gets fulfilled, or at least gets lit up... More >>>