Certain artists and songs are indelibly etched and embedded into my fiber. Much like the olfactory sense often being the most powerful, music has pretty much the same effect on me.
Back in the summer of '72 I was forced, almost at gunpoint, by my father to get a "real" summer job. It seemed that earning really good money as a lead singer in a reasonably popular band wasn't "real" enough employment, at least not by his Depression era standards.
Work meant you went in at a predetermined time, got a weekly check and taxes were deducted. This was a foreign concept to me. It remains one to this day.
Doctor My Beard
The only job I could find was a 56 hour a week gig (bringing home a whopping $96.00 a week) at a pizzeria/restaurant on steroids -- the sucker consumed an entire city block. Ironically, it was located on the main drag that you drove if headed to the beach (that would be "Rock, Rock, Rockaway Beach"). Yes, kids were up and down the Boulevard hitching rides. The Ramones weren't messing with ya on that one.
About the only salvation this job offered was a jukebox. It had an evil side that used to play Sammy Davis Jr. crooning "The Candy Man" if parents brought their rug rats out for a bite. To retaliate I pumped a lot of quarters into that machine. The one song that got the most airplay for my money was a tune by a new artist, this dude with California surfer straight hair. He used to piss me off back then. The chicks wanted every guy to be like him, cute and sensitive. His name was Jackson Browne and the song was "Doctor My Eyes".
When he hit the stage in Fort Meyers some 36 years later sporting the same surfer straight hair, he had added a gray moustache and matching beard that threw me for a loop. He actually looked like he was getting older. But looks can be deceiving. Nobody bothered to tell his vocal chords that he's added a few years. He sounded almost exactly like that first Asylum album.
When the Audience Writes the Set List
I've been seeing him play live since the mid-70s when he did a live radio broadcast on his birthday (October 9th) from the Ultrasonic recording Studios on Long Island.
I've got a ton of Jackson stories, all unique to my concert experiences and chance meetings in hotel lobbies. One thing I can tell you about Jackson Browne that you can take to the bank: the man is true to form and hasn't varied off course since my first exposure to his live performances.
The Fort Myers gig turned into virtually an all request show. The stage was set almost identical to the cover of Solo Acoustic I -- a guitar rack carrying roughly a dozen amplified acoustic guitars, a chair, microphone and monitor set stage right center, and an electric keyboard, chair, mic and monitor set stage left center.
He opened with "Barricades of Heaven" and with the exception of two new, currently unreleased numbers, it was a night tailored for JB devotees.
Back in the '70s, at the live birthday broadcast, he played a rough version of "Walking Slow" sans lyrics, as he hadn't gotten around to writing them yet. I have the cassette in my junior college of musical knowledge as proof.
The More Things Change ...
The 2008 version of Jackson has the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame inductee (Class of 2004) taking requests from the audience and forewarning the crowd that he might not remember all the lyrics. On two separate occasions he didn't. Gotta love an artist of his stature with a sense of humor, one who realizes that it's only rock 'n' roll. When Jackson zoned, the crowd filled in. It was a kick to see everyone playing together nicely.
From "These Days" to "Redneck Friend" and from "For A Dancer" to "Fountain Of Sorrows" to the closer, "I Am A Patriot" Jackson treated the audience to 25 nuggets and a few laughs.
The man is truly one of a kind.
The more things change ...
