How Travis Tritt Made Hell Freeze Over and Sparked an Eagles Reunion - American Songwriter

Introduction:

Longtime fans of the Eagles know that seeing the band onstage today is akin to a miracle. After they split in 1980, Don Henley said they’d play again “when hell froze over.” However, a little over a decade after the band went on their indefinite hiatus, country singer Travis Tritt became the catalyst that got he band back together.

Tritt was one of 13 artists selected to appear on Common Thread: The Songs of the Eagles. The 1993 tribute album did more than pay homage to one of the biggest rock bands in the world. Sales of the album also helped fund Henley’s nonprofit organization, the Walden Woods Project. Tritt recorded a version of the band’s debut single, “Take It Easy,” but had some special requests when it came time to record the video.

How Travis Tritt Helped Reunite the Eagles

Travis Tritt discussed how he got all of the members of the Eagles in one room during an interview. “I don’t take any credit for bringing the Eagles back together,” he began. “The way that all came down, they wanted to produce a record out of Nashville with all these different country artists. It was called Common Thread: The Songs of the Eagles,” he recalled.

“This was back in the ’90s, and they wanted to have all these different country music artists singing Eagles songs. And, I was one of the last people who was invited to be a part of it. I remember when they called me and asked me about doing it,” Tritt explained. He was immediately on board with the project. However, other artists had already spoken for most of the songs he wanted to record. Finally, his attorney suggested he do “Take It Easy.”

Later, Tritt got a phone call from longtime Eagles manager Irving Azoff informing him that “Take It Easy” would be the first single from the album. Azoff then informed him that they planned to shoot a music video for the song and asked for Tritt’s input on the video’s concept.

The Remark That Led to Hell Freezing Over

“I’m on this phone call, and I’m shocked and honored by this offer. But, at the same time, I have no idea what to do for a video. All I know is, if you’re going to have a video, it has to be something pretty darn special. So, off the top of my head, without even thinking about it, I said, ‘Hell, I don’t know. Let’s get the Eagles back together,” Tritt recalled. His suggestion was met with silence. At the time, he didn’t know about the turmoil and infighting that tore the band apart.

“A few days later, I got a call from Irving’s office. He said, ‘Look, I’m going to leave this up to you. If you can get Don Henley and Glenn Frey both to agree to this project–but you’re going to have to call them and you’re going to have to ask them.’ So, I got on the phone,” Tritt said. First, he called Frey. Surprisingly, Frey agreed to do the video if Henley would agree to it. So, Tritt called Henley.

“I didn’t tell that we had already talked to Glenn Frey. He said pretty much the same thing. So, we got those guys to agree.”

The Impact of Travis Tritt’s ”Take It Easy” on the Eagles

Travis Tritt and the Eagles recorded the video for “Take It Easy” in December 1993. Roughly five months later, in April 1994, the Long Run-era Eagles performed together for two nights at the Warner Bros. Studios in Burbank, California. The performances served as recording sessions for their 1994 live album Hell Freezes Over. It was the beginning of a new journey for the band.

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THE LAST TIME HE STEPPED INTO THE LIGHT — Merle Haggard’s Quiet Goodbye. On February 6, 2016, Merle Haggard walked onto the stage the way he always had—without announcement, without drama, without asking anyone to look his way. There were no grand gestures, no attempt to command the room. He simply stood there, guitar settled against him like an old companion, shoulders calm, movements unforced. This was a man who had long ago earned his place and no longer needed to explain it. His voice was no longer polished. Time had roughened it, thinned it, left small fractures along the edges. Yet those imperfections carried something deeper than precision ever could. He wasn’t singing anymore—he was speaking. Each line arrived like a lived truth, delivered slowly, deliberately, without embellishment. Merle never rushed the songs. He let them breathe. He paused where the words needed space, allowing silence to finish thoughts the lyrics began. Sometimes he lingered, sometimes he moved on gently, as if turning pages in a story he knew by heart. There was no search for applause. No effort to create a “moment.” The music simply existed—honest, unguarded, complete. His eyes rarely lifted, often resting on the floor or drifting briefly toward his band—shared glances between men bound by decades of sound, miles, and memory. Nothing felt staged. Nothing felt unresolved. There was no farewell that night. No announcement. No final bow. But in the steady restraint of his voice—in the way he sang as if nothing were left unsaid—it felt unmistakably like the closing of a final chapter. Not an ending filled with noise, but one shaped by acceptance. A story told fully, and laid gently to rest.