Like the resounding impact Bernie Taupin has on Elton John, Becker brought out the finest in Fagen. They etched best when drawing together, and Becker kept things a touch off-kilter, leaving cracks and backdoors for the weirdos, grifters, and sad sacks to sneak in, smoke a bowl, and feel less alone in this big, cruel world. More so than Fagen, who frankly I don’t think likes humanity all that much, Becker saw our wounded, shuffling ranks and opened his arms, inviting us to laugh at our foibles and failings while divine guitars danced around our heads.
I've read that one paragraph five times now. Essence captured.