Quarter 3, 2023

For Everyman (1973) by Jackson Browne

The best album by Jackson Browne? Now, that’s a tough one. It could be any one of four particularly inspiring records. We have his first, Jackson Browne (Saturate Before Using); the outstanding Late for the Sky; and the ever-popular Running on Empty. Either one of these albums could be said to be his best. But for my money, For Everyman takes the prize. Back in the late 20^th century, Rolling Stone magazine called Jackson “probably the most accomplished lyricist of our time”. I wholeheartedly agree, and this is no more evident than in the songs on his second studio album, For Everyman.

The album opens with his version of the Eagles’ hit Take It Easy, co-written back when with Glenn Frey. When Jackson was a teenager, his parents threw weekend-long parties that were attended by future members of the Eagles and many other bright lights on the California music scene at the time (Joni Mitchell, Warren Zevon, David Crosby, etc.). Inevitably they got to hear some of Jackson’s songs. Intensely shy, he had to be convinced that his songs and voice needed to be recorded and heard, eventually leading him to record his first album.

Sometimes Jackson will put himself and his imagination somewhere outside the U.S., that he may look back on the country objectively. Our Lady of the Well is just such a song, and a tender, pensive tune. He says so much in the most poetic way:

“But it’s a long way that I have come, across the sand to find this peace among your people in the sun,

where the families work the land as they have always done.

Oh it’s so far the other way my country’s gone.

Across my home has grown the shadow of a cruel and senseless hand,

though in some strong hearts the love and truth remain.

And it has taken me this distance and a woman’s smile to learn

that my heart remains among them, and to them I must return…”

 In Colours of the Sun, we find Jackson playing with his senses, childlike. The song opens with him lying with his face close to a stream, poetically describing the dance of light and colour before him:

“Colours of the sun, flashing on the water top, echo on the land.

Picking for a coin, many other tiny worlds singing past my hand…”

Somehow, it leads him to profoundly consider the poor forgotten souls down through history, as he is wont to do:

“Dying men draw numbers in the air; dream to conquer little bits of time.

Scuffle with the crowd to get their share, and fall behind their little bits of time…”

Then later, after dreamily tasting still more sights and sounds, he goes on to think about our contemporary fate and the rapidly waning influence and relevance of our ‘saviours’:

“Disillusioned savior search the sky, wanting to just to show someone the way.
Asking all the people passing by: “Doesn’t anybody want the way?”….”

 I Thought I Was a Child is a beautiful love song about how loving a certain woman has opened his eyes to the meaning of life, and the innocence lost thereby. Again his poeticism shines through, as in the opening couplet he compliments her on how youthful she continues to look in his eyes. Nobody does this better than Jackson…

“It’s such a clever innocence with which you do your sorcery,
as if somehow the years just bowed and let that young girl go free…”

Side One ends with the classic These Days. Written when he was just fifteen, it is hard to believe how much wisdom the lyric of this song reveals. How does a young man, still in his teens, gain such a sage perspective on life?…

“These days I’ll sit on corner stones, and count the time in quarter tones to ten, my friend.
Don’t confront me with my failures. I had not forgotten them…”

One day I was listening to this song, and I suddenly realized that the opening lines indicate that the song may simply be a teenage boy’s homage to his mother, and that he has just come to understand who she is and all that she has done for him:

“Well, I’ve been out walkin’.
I don’t do that much talkin’ these days these days.
These days I seem to think a lot
about the things that I forgot to do for you,
and all the times I had the chance to…”

Side Two opens with Redneck Friend. One can be forgiven for thinking it’s a song about a good old boy from the south, with lyrics like these:

“Honey, you shake, I’ll rattle. We’ll roll on down the line.
See if we can’t get in touch with a very close friend of mine.
But let me clue you in, it ain’t like him to argue or pretend.
Honey let me introduce you to my redneck friend…”

And then later:

“’Cause he’s the missing link, the kitchen sink, eleven on a scale of ten.
Honey, let me introduce you to my redneck friend…”

In fact, according to his brother Severin, when they were growing up this is the name that he and Jackson used to jokingly give their penises. When it was time for one of them to take a leak, for instance, they would routinely say: “I’m going for a visit with my redneck friend.” This is not the only time Jackson hid such a thing in a song’s lyrics. Rosie, a song on the Running on Empty album, is ostensibly about a female groupie, when in fact it’s a song about masturbation and the “palm sisters” (“Rosie, you’re all right, you wear my ring. When you hold me tight, Rosie, that’s my thing. When you turn out the light, I got to hand it to me. Looks like it’s me and you again tonight, Rosie”.)

Like Bruce Springsteen and Elvis Costello, Jackson Browne tells the truth about life and love without pulling any punches, unafraid to deal with the less-than-ideal aspects of romantic love. In The Times You’ve Come, even as he expresses his love for the lady in question, he cannot help telling it like it is:

“In the time we’ve known that we each are a part of one another,
we’ve lost as much as we have won.
And as our lives have grown, we have found that it only brings us pain
to hang on to the things that we have done…”

And then later:

“Now we’re lying here, so safe in the ruins of our pleasures.
Laughter marks the place where we have fallen.
And our lives are near, so it wouldn’t occur to us to wonder:
Is this the past or the future that is calling?…”

Ready or Not is about a guy preparing for the birth of his first child, and his thoughts on his lady’s pregnancy. Even when the subject is light and a little comical, Jackson’s poetic talents are still front and center.

“Someone’s going to have to explain it to me. I’m not sure what it means.
My baby’s feeling funny in the morning. She’s having trouble getting into her jeans.
Her waist-line seems to be expanding, although she never feels like eating a thing.
I guess we’ll reach some understanding when we see what the future will bring…”

Then he reflects back on how they met, and he cleverly includes a phrase from the first verse, but with a different meaning:

“I met her in a crowded barroom. One of those typical Hollywood scenes.
I was doing my very best Bogart, but I was having trouble getting into her jeans…”

And later he talks about the early days of their relationship, and again his lyrics betray the work of a gifted poet:

“I told her I had always lived alone, and I probably always would;
that all I wanted was my freedom, and she told me that she understood.
But I let her do some of my laundry, and she slipped a few meals in between.
The next thing I remember, she was all moved in, and I was buying her a washing machine…”

The album ends with two songs that run together, almost organically: Sing My Songs to Me and the title track For Everyman. When the sad day comes that Jackson Browne passes away, I may actually feel the loss before I hear about it. There is not a soul alive with whom I identify more, as so many of his lyrics show that his sensitivities and his overall perspective on life and love align with mine. As I have been heard to say before, if I had my druthers, I’d have these two songs played at my funeral, with the lyrics printed for all those present to read along. Nothing could tell them who I was, and how I was, better than these two songs.

The lyrics are so perfect, with so many high points, that I am unable to break them up into pieces. I hereby reproduce the set in its entirety. First, Sing My Songs to Me:

“Sing my songs to me. Sing them to me softly.
Sing me sunlight and shadows, orange groves and meadows.
Let your voice ring back my memories. Sing my songs to me.

Bring my dreams to me. Bring them from the darkness.
Let the minutes and hours show my mind strange new flowers.
But I’d like to know where they go when the morning comes. Bring my dreams to me.

Because it seems to me that there may never be
a better chance to see who I am, come timelessly dancing. Bring my dreams to me.”

Who else but a brilliant poet like Jackson Browne could refer to dying and death as “come timelessly dancing”?

Next, For Everyman:

“Everybody I talk to is ready to leave with the light of the morning.
They’ve seen the end coming down long enough to believe that they’ve heard their last warning.
Standing alone, each has his own ticket in his hand.
And as the evening descends, I sit thinking ’bout everyman.

Seems like I’ve always been looking for some other place to get it together.
Where, with a few of my friends, I could give up the race and maybe find something better.
But all my fine dreams, well thought-out schemes to gain the motherland
have all eventually come down to waiting for everyman.

Waiting here for everyman. Make it on your own if you think you can.
If you see somewhere to go, I understand.
Waiting here for everyman.
Don’t ask me if he’ll show. Baby, I don’t know

Make it on your own if you think you can.
Somewhere later on, you’ll have to take a stand. Then you’re gonna need a hand.

Everybody’s just waiting to hear from the one who can give them the answers.
And lead them back to that place in the warmth of the sun where sweet childhood still dances.
Who’ll come along and hold out that strong but gentle father’s hand?
Long ago, I heard someone say something ’bout everyman.

Waiting here for everyman. Make it on your own, make it if you think you can.
If you see somewhere to go, I understand.
I’m not tryin’ to tell you that I’ve seen the plan. Turn and walk away if you think I am.
But don’t think too badly of one who’s left holding sand.
He’s just another dreamer, dreamin’ ’bout everyman.”

(Members click here for archived Quarterly Record Reviews from past quarters)