I chose Hotel California as the title for my second chapter in Slave To The Farm, because I learned to play the song at The Farm. There was an old beaten-up Yamaha guitar, and a book of songs with the tabs to show you how to play the cords. Music saved my sanity inside those walls. I could sing out the lyrics, strum the cords, and escape the crushing feelings of being trapped. I thought the song was about being in jail. I use to joke that I was staying at the Hotel California, and I could never leave.
The girls loved to hear me sing. Everyone would join in at the chorus, and…boom…we’d be out on a dark desert highway.
It makes me smile to dust off those photogenic memories and look at them. Short grainy video clips saved in my brain. The Farm was certainly a source of many, and I can’t help myself, if the clip doesn’t have a sound track, I add one.