By Rolling Stone. A savage attack on rich Hollywood party scenesters β except the kids are wearing Steely Dan T-shirts, which just makes Steely Dan despise them more.
But it sounds especially grim here. The gentle wistfulness of the tune runs in perfect opposition to its sinister lyrics, chronicling the goings-on at a shadowy den of vice, likely a brothel.
Fagen and Becker rarely paired understatement with pitch-black darkness as effectively as they did here. The upbeat track is packed with A-list personnel β including stellar backing vocals from Michael McDonald and a killer guitar solo from Mark Knopfler β who make it sound like one hell of a drugged-out party. Fagen and Becker take a stab at one of the most classic American stories: that of immigrants lured to the United States only to learn that the promises of this country are more of a rug pull.
Where others might try to pull relentless hope or righteous fury from such a narrative, Steely Dan remain aloof as ever, gazing upon this magisterial con with cynical awe.
Steely Dan rarely swaggered, but they did just that on the title track of their third album. But who cares if it makes sense when the band sounds so alive? Fagen even sets up the chorus with a swooning little vocal line before finishing it off with a nasty snarl.
