Feb. 20 — To the Editor:
It was his voice. That soft, smooth, reassuring, Midwestern-Californian thing he had going on. Some called it his drawl. It was the sound of ice cream. He could pour and stir emotion simultaneously. His was a sound homemade. The vanilla sandy coast meets the soft rocky chips was his recipe for success.
He could scoop, cut, and arrange harmonies so tight, they swirled seamlessly from low to high, floating flawlessly like soft serve upon a dish. He had a kind of friendly, sentimental, sometimes sad, and sometimes cheery flavor to his music. Whatever the mood of his songs, or the subject matter he sang about, he came across as believable. No artificial ingredients.
He was one of the founding members of the Eagles brand, which has been churning out hits longer than Ben has known Jerry. I have been listening to those hits for longer than Ben has known Jerry, and I am sad. I’m sad that the sound of ice cream cannot keep churning out at least one more time. I’ll miss you Glenn Frey. Peace to your soul.
Kathy Brown