With almost a half-century hindsight, Jackson Browne’s Running On Empty (released 12/6/77) doesn’t seem so far out of left field as it did upon its initial release. In fact, with such extended retrospect, the album quite clearly appears to be the inauguration of a period of experimentation involving commercialism and politics–including Hold Out, Lives in the Balance, and World In Motion–all of which ultimately led Browne full circle, via 1993’s I’m Alive, back in touch with the muse with which he was having so much trouble connecting in 1977.
Notwithstanding the critical and sales success of this successor to The Pretender (or the advent of streaming and the resurgence of vinyl in the interim), it’s most noteworthy that this is the only other title of Browne’s he’s chosen to digitally remaster and release on his own Inside Recordings imprint—that is, not surprisingly, besides his third album Late For The Sky, the arguable apex of his entire career.
That aside, there is no other album quite like Running On Empty in Jackson Browne’s discography. But then, there may be no other album comparable in contemporary rock: it is an absolutely unflinching portrait of an artist all too aware he’s lost his creative compass. In a sense, this LP resides at the opposite end of the artistic spectrum from the aforementioned masterwork of 1974.
Through previously-unreleased material, recorded on-stage and backstage, in hotel rooms and on the tour bus, Jackson demonstrates his skills as a bandleader as well as those of songwriter and performer. With the intuitive participation of his backing group on cuts like “Shaky Town,” he illuminates the dichotomy between those precious few hours on stage in front of an audience and the dreary, laborious, and altogether mundane aspects in the life of touring musicians (and their crew too).
The album concept involves the channeling of inspiration through sheer force of the will. Indicative of Browne’s somewhat barren reservoir of imagination, only two major original songs appear here, inclusions all the more significant because the title song and “You Love The Thunder ” are also the only two compositions solely his own.
They are both on par with the pinnacles of his past, but the collaborations compare favorably as well. The sparse “Nothing But Time” accentuates the isolation that often muffles the camaraderie within an entourage-it was actually recorded on the tour bus en route to another stop on the road–while an account of the all-too inevitable outcome of a failed liaison echoes most resonantly in “Rosie.”
The quintessential folk-rocker refuses to indulge in the hoary cliches of road songs, self-pitying or otherwise. Instead, this arrangement of Danny O’Keefe’s “The Road” conjures a doleful tone as Craig Doerge’s electric piano pirouettes around David Lindley’s violin. It’s a far cry from the thrust drummer Russ Kunkel applies to “Running On Empty,” where he and bassist Leland Sklar help generate a celebratory air.
That uplifting atmosphere, further elevated by guitarist Danny Kortchmar’s insistent rhythm playing, is fully in keeping with the detail of the lyrics Jackson Browne sings so defiantly. The sound of “You Love The Thunder” lies in between the dulcet tones of background singers Doug Haywood and Rosemary Butler accentuate the role-playing in the words: while the lyrics are ostensibly aimed at a third party, they are just as applicable to its author.
Meanwhile, Lindley’s caustic lap steel on “The Load-Out” cuts to the quick, rendering all the more direct and honest Browne’s forthright petition for a bond with his listeners. Setting the stage for the dramatic conclusion, the singer borders on the desperate but remains altogether affectionate in his entreaties to the audience to forestall their separation; the tongue-in-cheek falsetto from the master multi-instrumentalist at the end of the concluding “Stay” is thus the coup de grace.
Prior to that, Browne contemporizes Rev. Gary Davis’ ode to the toxic substance of “Cocaine,” where finely-picked acoustic instruments punctuate the frontman’s somewhat wan delivery. The jocular but forced repartee Browne shares with the other performers following the performance only renders more solitary the emotional self-portrait of “Love Needs A Heart.”
On the 2019 remaster, some retrospective history from the artist on the novel execution of the album might’ve been welcome in the enclosed booklet alongside the lyrics and photos (the specific locations of the respective tracks are readily available online). Such content would conceivably illuminate the realism of the touring scenario as fully as the recordings themselves benefit from the remastering of Gavin Lurssen and Reuben Cohen.
Those minor caveats aside, the extended perspective of four decades- plus clarifies how and why this archetypal singer/songwriter found himself compelled to make Running On Empty. Following his careerist and topical efforts beyond the Eighties, The Naked Ride Home, Time The Conqueror, and Standing in the Breach, not to mention 2021’s Downhill From Everywhere, constitute a creative resurgence similar to Bob Dylan’s artistic renewal since 1997.
Like the Nobel Laureate, the various skills Jackson Browne demonstrated so many years ago are those very same he continues to wield today with such understated yet resolute panache.
One Response
One of your very best, Doug–for one of the very best rock albums, at that. Good on ya. 🙂