Singer songwriter Jackson Browne is touring USA and Canada March through May with 3 dates in Atlantic Canada April 2011

Browne is touring North America in a solo acoustic set. I’ve got tickets for the Moncton show in the intimate Centre at Casino New Brunswick April 11th.

I didn’t think I’d go until reading Bob Lefsetz review of Browne’s performance in LA. It reminded me how great Browne could be at getting inside your head with his songs about the human condition.

Browne was part of the folk-country-rock music scene from Southern California in the late 60s and early 70s that inspired groups like The Eagles.

The first big Eagles’ hit Takin it Easy was written by Browne and Glen Frey of The Eagles.

Jackson Browne is a long time social activist and tickets in support of the Guacamole Fund are available at almost all venues.

Jackson Brown Running on Empty by Bob Lefsetz

[yframe url=’http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4LmFq4waQeI’]
The song I can’t stop playing is “Running On Empty”. Even though it’s a fan favorite, it never really resonated with me, maybe because of the line “I don’t know about anyone but me”. It seemed to undercut the whole song, Jackson Browne was a beacon, he seemed to know so much, now he doesn’t?

But when Jackson played this the other night it energized me in a new way, had me on the edge of my seat singing along. Stripped down, absent the rock hysteria, it was a story straight from the heart, a tale told by a buddy in a bar.

“Looking out at the road rushing under my wheels
Looking back at the years gone by like so many summer fields”

That’s what’s so weird, it’s behind you. When you’re in your twenties you look around and say you’ll come back. But you almost never do. Now when I go someplace I take a long hard look around.

Because most likely this is it. You take your junior year abroad, backpacking across Europe, believing you’re a world traveler, then you end up rooted to your house and family in the suburbs wondering where the time went.

I didn’t take my junior year abroad, I wasn’t about to sacrifice a ski season. And in an era before iPods and even Walkmen, I wasn’t eager to leave my music behind. But by time “Running On Empty” came out I was in law school. Almost a complete waste of time, but I had my first significant relationship and learned what the insiders know so I don’t feel inadequate, but you don’t need to know all that, you’re better off living. Getting on the bus or in your car watching the road rushing under your wheels…if you survive, if you don’t find yourself thirty five, broke, with no economic options.

So we don’t take those risks, the artists take them for us.

Which is why Jackson sings:

“I don’t know how to tell you all just how crazy this life feels”

Because if you weren’t there, you don’t really get it.

Like the show.

You can listen to the record ad infinitum, but it’s a different experience from going to the venue, from seeing the live performance. You get in your car or board the train, you walk to the hall, they rip your ticket and you’re inside. Waiting. That’s what so much of rock and roll is about, it builds excitement. And in the old days it took them that long to get it together.

And then there’s that rush when the act hits the stage.

And the great sustain. It’s like making love. Ninety minutes of exquisite pleasure. Hell, it’s in the dark!

And you go home and play the record, trying to relive the memories.

And sometimes they put out live albums. But usually they’re reworked, remixed, they lose some authenticity in the process.

But if you’re really lucky you get a bootleg. It doesn’t even have to be the show you were at, because the energy, the intimacy remains the same.

After Jackson’s performance of “Running On Empty” Friday night I combed my library for every version of the song I could find.

Of course I had the original studio take. And the one with David Lindley, from their album together, but neither had that sound, of the acoustic with the effect, that made this rockin’ number come alive in such an intimate setting.

And I’m playing all the MP3s and then…

There are people talking in the background. There’s clapping.

And that guitar sound.

The whoop of recognition when Jackson sings the opening line.

And it’s an audience recording, not something people are supposed to pay for. You can tell that Jackson’s on a stage ten or fifteen feet away, you hear the people the person doing the recording is sitting next to. Whispering along.

That’s what seeing Jackson Browne acoustic is like, a religious experience. And you don’t shout in the synagogue, you don’t shriek in church.

And then:

“Everyone I know
Everywhere I go
People need some reason to believe”

And then Jackson stops singing. Oh, he’s still playing, but just like Friday night, the audience is taking over, they need no direction, no encouragement, the line is in their blood, they can’t help but sing it out loud.

I DON’T KNOW ABOUT ANYONE BUT ME!

The assembled multitude is whispering. And with everybody in attendance doing this, all the believers in the chapel, it becomes a religious experience.

I can’t stop playing the MP3. Over and over again.

What do they say? The record business is in trouble but music is doing just great?

I downloaded this show from Atlantic City’s Music Box two and a half years ago. It was recorded six months before that. But it sounds just like yesterday. Friday night to be exact. Because freeze a live moment in music and it lasts forever. Yes, the imperfections are the hooks. I’d say you feel like you were there, but it’s more about intertwining the music with your memories. It’s like finally having pictures to your soundtrack.

But really it’s the reverse. Music is the soundtrack to your mental movies. A track may have been recorded once, but it can live inside you forever.

“I’d love to stick around but I’m running behind
You know I don’t even know what I’m hoping to find
Running into the sun but I’m running behind”

I’m running really fast. And if I told you I knew where I was going, I’d be lying. I tried to play that game. It didn’t work. I don’t want the future planned out, I want each and every day to be a surprise.

Which leads to a lot of blind alleys and dead ends.

But I just turn around and double back, and explore a new route, wiser for the experience.

You can buy insurance. Go to graduate school. Start a profession. Or you can walk the tightrope without a net, which is scary, knowing there’s no protection, nothing to save you, but it’s much more thrilling.

And that’s what life is supposed to be. A thrill.

And that’s exactly how I feel listening to this live rendition of “Running On Empty”.

Thrilled. By Bob Lefsetz