Warm Smell of Colitas

Opium Magazine—2007

2006-07 marks the 30th anniversary of the release of the album Hotel California and its devastatingly popular same-titled single. Many people have pointed out that if you divide 1976 by 30 you get 65.866 and that this is almost a spooky number. Don Henley, however, has always firmly stated that Satan was only employed in an executive role on the album. It’s time we took a deeper look at the song that has enlivened so many of our wedding receptions, 21st birthday parties and keg-side vom-a-longs.

On a dark desert highway, cool wind in my hair.

What can we tell about the main character of this song? He’s a traveller, it’s night, he has hair. He’s traveling by open-top convertible, motorcycle or bicycle. A strong start.

Warm smell of Colitas rising up through the air.

“Colitas” is a brand of Mexican aftershave. He likes the open road, but he likes to feel fresh. “Colitas” should not be confused with “colitis” which is an inflammation of the colon, characterized by lower-bowel spasms and upper abdominal cramps. It is sometimes called “colonotis.” How can something smell “warm”, you ask? If you’d ever met someone with colitis, you’d know.

Up ahead in the distance, I saw a shimmering light.

Is it “up ahead” or “in the distance”? This line is both a disruptive poetic device designed to upset the listener, and a cautionary reminder that it is difficult to accurately judge distances at night.

My head grew heavy and my sight grew dim, I had to stop for the night.

Our traveller is tired and needs lodgings. Note how he indirectly describes the hotel. He could have written:

… I saw a lovely hotel,
… I had to stop for a spell,

but this would have been less artful. The writer assumes that we must be aware of the title of the song and are therefore able to deduce that we are stopping at a hotel, as opposed to a gas-stop, diner, or soft-core dance establishment.

There she stood in the doorway;
I heard the mission bell.
And I was thinking to myself,
“This could be Heaven or this could be Hell.”

We’ve all had this thought while checking into roadside accommodation. If in doubt, ask to see one of the rooms. A second character is introduced. Who is she, this mystery-girl? He doesn’t know, but she rings a bell.

Then she lit up a candle and she showed me the way,
There were voices down the corridor,
I thought I heard them say...

Welcome to the Hotel California.
Such a lovely place, such a lovely face.

‘Such a lovely place, such a lovely face’ is obviously lifted directly from the hotel’s advertising material. It is perfectly relevant to include this kind of ‘contextual’ information in a lyric.

They livin' it up at the Hotel California.
What a nice surprise, bring your Alibis.

“They livin it up” is West Coast for “They are living it up.” “Alibis” (pronounced Ah-li-bees) is another brand of Mexican aftershave. The hotel obviously skimps on free toiletries.

Her mind is Tiffany-twisted,
She got the Mercedes Benz
She got a lot of pretty, pretty boys
She calls friends.

The narrator swings our attention dramatically back to the woman: “Look at you, mysterious hotel worker of the desert. The shimmering shadow-world of the hospitality industry may have provided you with all the baubles and trappings, but has it made you truly happy?” he seems to say.

How they dance in the courtyard,
Sweet summer sweat.
Some dance to remember,
Some dance to forget.

This is so true.

So I called up the Captain,
“Please bring me my wine.”
He said, “We haven't had that spirit here
since nineteen sixty nine.”

“Captain” may be a light-hearted term for the night-manager. It’s unusual, isn’t it, that in this great wine-producing region he would confuse wine for a spirit?

And still those voices are calling from far away,
Wake you up in the middle of the night,
Just to hear them say...

Our guest has requested a wake-up call. But why? This mystery adds to the tension, it makes us think, “Whatever will happen next? Let’s see.”

Chorus.

Mirrors on the ceiling,
The pink champagne on ice;
and she said, ‘We are all just prisoners here,
of our own device.”

Once again we’re reminded what a glamorous yet ephemeral existence this woman leads. Once you’ve climbed the dazzling heights of the hotel-service industry you find that the work which has brought you fame and fortune has also made you a prisoner – of your own device. A well placed mirror can make a small room look considerably larger.

And in the master's chambers,
they gathered for the feast.
They stab it with their steely knives,
but they just can't kill the beast.

We’ve all had catering disasters. Sometimes it’s better just to splash out and have your beast professionally killed. Your master will thank you for it.

Last thing I remember,
I was running for the door.
I had to find the passage back
to the place I was before.

Self explanatory: poorly prepared meat, colitis, a hasty exit. Note the subtle poetics hinting indirectly to his condition: “passage back” – “back passage.”

“Relax”said the night-man, ”
We are programmed to receive.
You can check-out any time you like,
but you can never leave!”

The night-manager comes to the rescue. He’s quick to reaffirm his establishment’s reputation for quality service by pointing out that they’re always open to feedback from guests. He also takes the time to re-affirm the hotel’s marketing message: “When you stay at Hotel California, you become a part of us.”

It is obvious that there is no occult symbolism in this song. In a year when Disco Duck by Rick Dees was released, it seems clear to me that Satan’s creative energies were focused elsewhere. Instead, I think what makes this song so universally adored is the way that it speaks to common human predicaments: the problem of maintaining good career/life balance and the cost of success; acceptable food and beverage standards; the difficulties involved in finding friendly lodgings, on a dark night, on a strange highway, as the desert sun falls below the horizon.