REO Speedwagon to stop touring after 2024

About the Song

Among the iconic rock anthems of the late 70s, REO Speedwagon’s “Time for Me to Fly” soars with a message of liberation and self-discovery. This 1978 hit, from their album You Can Tune a Piano, But You Can’t Tuna Fish, resonates with anyone who has ever yearned to break free from constraints and chase their dreams.

“Time for Me to Fly” opens with a powerful guitar riff, setting the stage for a song that is both introspective and empowering. Kevin Cronin’s vocals, conveying a mix of frustration and determination, paint a picture of someone who has reached a turning point. The lyrics speak of swallowing pride, living a lie, and a desperate need for relief. It’s a relatable sentiment, the yearning to break free from a situation that no longer serves you.

As the chorus explodes with the line, “It’s time for me to fly, gotta spread my wings and learn to fly”, the song takes on a triumphant tone. The soaring melody and driving rhythm become a sonic representation of breaking free from limitations and taking charge of one’s destiny. The lyrics become a rallying cry for anyone who has ever felt trapped, urging them to take a leap of faith and pursue their aspirations.

“Time for Me to Fly” is not just about physical freedom; it’s also about emotional liberation. It delves into the complexities of personal growth, the courage it takes to break free from unhealthy patterns, and the exhilarating feeling of finally taking control of your life. The song celebrates the power of self-belief and the potential that lies within each of us to reach new heights.

Beyond the emotional resonance, “Time for Me to Fly” is a prime example of REO Speedwagon’s signature sound. The tight harmonies, Gary Richrath’s soaring guitar solos, and Cronin’s soulful vocals come together to create a powerful and enduring rock anthem. The song’s energy is infectious, leaving the listener feeling inspired and motivated to pursue their own dreams.

“Time for Me to Fly” remains a cornerstone of classic rock radio and continues to resonate with audiences of all ages. It’s a timeless reminder that it’s never too late to spread your wings and take flight, to break free from the things that hold you back and soar towards a brighter future.REO Speedwagon Reacts to Unexpected 'Bohemian Rhapsody' Movie Shoutout

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Lyrics: Time for Me to Fly

I’ve been around for you
I’ve been up and down for you
But I just can’t get any relief
I’ve swallowed my pride for you
I’ve lived and lied for you
But you still make me feel like a thief
You got me stealin’ your love away
‘Cause you never give it
Peeling the years away
And we can’t relive it
I make you laugh
And you make me cry
I believe it’s time for me to flyYou said we’d work it out
You said that you had no doubt
That deep down we were really in love
Oh, but I’m tired of holding on
To a feeling I know is gone
I do believe that I’ve had enoughI’ve had enough of the falseness
Of a worn out relation
Enough of the jealousy
And the intoleration
I make you laugh
And you make me cry
I believe it’s time for me to fly[Refrain:]
Time for me to fly
Oh, I’ve got to set myself free
Time for me to fly
And that’s just how it’s got to be
I know it hurts to say goodbye
But it’s time for me to flyOh, don’t you know it’s…
[Refrain]It’s time for me to fly
[Repeat to end]

You Missed

Toby Keith’s tour bus crossed every highway in America, but only one road brought him home. That heavily traveled rig rolled through countless Nashville nights and blazing Texas dawns. It carried him straight into Madison Square Garden, rolled right up to high-risk USO stages across Iraq and Afghanistan, and hauled his crew into pockets of the world most performers would never dream of visiting. It crossed the rugged Rockies, the mighty Mississippi, and every single state line an old road map could draw, its bright headlights slicing through four decades of classic American asphalt. Yet the highway that truly mattered was never illuminated by blinding stadium spotlights. It was that familiar, quiet stretch of Oklahoma pavement that constantly pulled his soul back home—rolling past golden wheat fields, past the weathered oil rigs where his father once put in a hard day’s labor, and past cozy small-town diners where nobody bothered him for a signature because everyone already knew his face and called him by name. Toby Keith stood like an absolute giant under the arena lights. But staring out through that windshield, somewhere in the lonely hours between city limits, he was simply a hardworking man counting down the miles until he could finally sit on his own porch, hold his family close, and enjoy a peaceful morning beneath that massive Oklahoma sky. When the final note faded into the past on February 5, 2024, that legendary bus made one final, solemn journey—hauling him straight back into the comforting embrace of the earth that raised him. Some artists spend a lifetime chasing after the blinding glare of fame. Toby Keith outran it entirely, and then he just drove on home. But there was one quiet, hidden detail about that final road home that almost every fan completely overlooked.

Behind the scenes, Patsy Cline sacrificed her own privacy, peace of mind, and financial security to break down doors in a deeply entrenched, male-dominated Nashville industry. Executives frequently tried to underpay female acts or treat them as secondary openers. Patsy refused to be pushed around, aggressively demanding fair pay scales and proper billing, which forced booking agents and record labels to treat women as major-tour headliners rather than novelty acts. Nashville in the late 1950s and early 1960s was heavily policed by conservative executives who dictated how women should dress, behave, and sound. Patsy’s refusal to act like a submissive, quiet pop-styled songstress meant she faced constant career resistance. She absorbed that professional backlash so that future artists could express raw emotion and individual identity without being blacklisted. Instead of viewing other rising women as threats in a scarce market, Patsy actively protected and mentored newcomers like Loretta Lynn. She opened her home, shared hard-earned industry survival advice, and stood up for Loretta when Nashville old-timers tried to marginalize the newcomer’s rough-hewn coal-miner background. Pushing herself back onto the road and into rigorous recording schedules long before fully healing from her 1961 car accident, she carried the physical toll of touring so she could maintain financial stability for her family and keep her market presence alive—paving a resilient path that proved female headliners could sustain long-term careers.