Joe Walsh writes pocket symphonies like this one disguised as drunken buffoonery.  Ever thought about how much thought must’ve gone into writing and recording “Life’s Been Good”?  And yet we don’t take it that seriously.  That’s his genius.

This song crept up on me after first hearing it during the opening credits of The 40-Year-Old Virgin.  It reminds me also of the closing credits of another movie, one of my faves from childhood, The Warriors, where Joe sings about life “In the City.”  I guess there’s something about his music that makes it suitable for opening or closing movies, or credits in general.  I can’t put my finger on it.  Or maybe opening or closing a bottle of tequila, I don’t know.

For awhile, I was playing this song every time I got in my car.  It’s so short that sometimes i’d play it twice before the trip was over.  My kids still hate me for it (the older one prefers “Life’s Been Good,” but for that song, all we have to do is turn on the radio).

Here’s my take on the song’s message: the other day, as I was driving, I saw my arms on the steering wheel, the wheel itself, and the whole panorama of sights.  If I looked to my right, I saw my wife, and if I looked in the mirror or turned around, I’d see my kids.  My vision was normal, but the feeling behind it was one of detachment, like I was watching a screen.  The arms I saw on the steering wheel were not mine, or rather, they were mine but they weren’t me.  My arms belonged to the external world.  I felt involved in the commonplace distinction between the external, infinite universe and the internal, equally complex world of my mind.  What was new was the feeling that my body belonged to the former rather than to the latter.  It felt like being in a spacesuit.

So, my point is that this song has to do with that feeling, I guess.

More than that, though, the song’s unbridled exuberance gets me pumped.  The “pocket symphony” thing shows up in the little touches: the trumpet parts, the slicing guitar solo, the talk box harmonies.

Key lyrics: Hey, don’t you know it’s a waste of your day / Caught up in endless solutions /That have no meaning, just another hunch /Based upon jumping conclusions… and so on.

Album info: There Goes the Neighborhood (1981)