Day 2 – Your least favorite song

Song: "Hotel California" - The Eagles, Hotel California (1976)

First, the obvious: "Jesus, man, can you change the station? I've had a rough night and I hate the fucking Eagles, man!" - The Dude, The Big Lebowski

Alright, so, why am I slaughtering one of the most sacred cows in classic rock? Because it's a godawful song. From its fake, Mexican-ish guitar intro to its overwrought lyrics, "Hotel California" never fails to make me want to violently prevent anyone from every playing it ever again. I specifically remember being forced to listen to a busker play it over and over again while waiting for a subway. Those fifteen minutes might have been the closest to Hell on Earth that I've ever been.

It all boils down to the enunciation of "hotel" in the chorus. That weird little catch Don Henley gives it, adding an agonizing "ethnic" touch to the whole debacle, makes my skin crawl. "Hotel California" is not a magical, surreal fantasy that serves as an allegory for the Californian rock scene. It's a self-important epic, wallowing and moping until it climaxes in a burst of 70s guitar masturbation. I want it purged from the classic rock canon. But, as Henley sings, I "just can't kill the beast."

(30 Days List)